Sylvia was, in the simplest of terms, sloshed. Across the tent, Fred watched as she tripped over her own feet, nearly spilling the full glass of wine she had just retrieved all over herself. She recovered with a giggle, tucking a loose piece of hair behind her ear and meeting his eyes. He shook his head at her, but smiled, resulting in another quiet giggle as she hurried over to him, placing the drink down on their table with exaggerated carefulness.
"This," She nodded once, stiffly at the wine as she sat, "is for you."
Fred cast an amused eye at the glass, quite literally filled to the brim with a burgundy that he knew would taste too dry and give him a headache. He raised an eyebrow and reached out to turn it by the stem.
"I have a suspicion you're trying to insinuate something." He teased, flicking his gaze to hers.
She tucked her chin back, frowning at him, "What's that supposed to mean?"
He smiled, letting out a little chuckle as he shook his head, "Nothing." And he leaned in, placing his hand on her cheek as he kissed her, quick but sweet, tasting four glasses of champagne on her lips.
"I think..." She tilted her head back and looked at him through hooded eyes, "you owe me a dance."
"Alright then, Miss Callis. Would you like to dance?"
Fred stood and held his hand out to her, which she took daintily, like a regency-era debutante, standing with a small sway. She hung from his neck and he held her waist like they were at a secondary school dance. Sylvia only made it two side steps before her ankle rolled over and she stumbled. She stifled a laugh as Fred caught her, catching her coy eye.
"I drank too much." She whispered, a pink glow growing up to the skin below her eyes.
He wanted to put his nose right up against hers and giggle with her like a couple of schoolchildren.
"Come on," he wrapped his arm around her, holding onto one of her hands, "let's get some air."
He guided her out of the tent without much notice, feeling her eyes on him as they stepped out into the warm summer air.
"Fred?"
He looked down at her, dropping his arm from her shoulders, but still holding her hand in his.
"Sylvie?"
She stepped up to him, biting down on her lip as her gaze shifted between his eyes and his mouth.
"Lets go up to your room." She whispered.
Fred raised an eyebrow down at her, but smiled.
"It's a little early to go to sleep, don't you think?"
She breathed heavily through her nose, trying to keep her expression serious, shaking her head. Her voice was silky and hushed with drunk fluidity.
"I want you to fuck me."
He let out a loud guffaw, looking over his shoulder to see if anyone had heard. They were far enough away from the tent that he felt they were safe. Looking back at her, he smiled, amused by her assertiveness, but shook his head.
"Not tonight."
Her eyebrows furrowed.
"You don't want to?"
"Believe me, Sylvie, I would like nothing more."
She frowned, her mouth tucking in slightly at the corner, "Is it because I'm drunk?"
He snorted, smiling down at her as he slipped his hands into his pockets.
"Yes, it is because you're drunk."
"But that's it?" She furrowed her brows, trying to look as serious as possible, her lips pouting the slightest bit, "There's no other reason?"
Fred raised an eyebrow at her, releasing one of his hands from his pocket to rest on the small of her back, "No."
Her teeth grazed against her lip again and she blinked. That slow, awful, painful, beautiful blink that made Fred's chest tighten and his stomach flutter with nerves.
"So if I wasn't drunk right now, you'd fuck me?"
He let out another snort, lifting his head to look away, trying to hide the obvious rush of blood that rose to his face as he chuckled nervously. His eyes scanned over the field in front of them before a cool hand reached over to rest on his cheek, turning him back to face her. Her voice was like silk.
"Tell me what you'd do if I wasn't drunk."
He blinked at her, shifting so he was facing her head-on now, his hands moving to rest on her hips. He stuck his tongue in his cheek and let his eyes wander between her eyes and lips, considering. Taking a deep breath in through his nose, he moved his jaw back and forth, and when he spoke, his voice was so low that it was barely audible over the sound of the party.
"I can't right now."
Her lips had parted and her breath blew up against his face, smelling of champagne and wedding cake. He took in another deep breath as she placed her hands on his chest, letting them slowly drag down over his shirt, until they rested on his abdomen. She looked at him with those predatory eyes and he exhaled a shaky breath, feeling his heart pound in his chest.
"Why not?"
Fred swallowed, but kept his eyes trained on hers, feeling her hands begin to roam again, inching up his ribs. He tried to tease her, but his voice cracked on every other word.
"Because I'm trying to be the respectable young man my mother raised me to be."
Sylvia's cheeks flushed a soft pink and her eyes squinted with a sweet adoration. Her lips parted when she smiled, a small laugh hiccuping through the first word.
"Can you at least kiss me?"
Fred dipped his head down slowly. Their noses brushed against each other and he could feel Sylvie's chest rise and press against his with each breath. Her lips were hot and sweet and slippery, and made his hand rise up to hold her cheek. As soon as he touched her, she pulled herself up with her hands on either side of his neck, opening her mouth so their tongues touched. Fred wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing her into him. Her satin dress moved like liquid between his hands and her skin. It was like her lips were frosted with sugar and he couldn't stop kissing her, harder and deeper. Her hands were sliding down his chest again, down past his stomach and curling around his belt.
A burst of laughter from inside the tent tore them apart almost immediately. Fred whipped his hands around to clasp behind his back and Sylvia dropped her own from his belt, spinning around as she smoothed down the front of her dress. George and a girl they recognized as one of Fleur's friends tumbled out of the tent, trying to muffle their childish giggles.
Sylvia's hand flew up to wipe the lipstick around her mouth just as George turned his head to them. With a devilish grin and raised eyebrows, he gave them a slow nod, touching two fingers up to his forehead and flicking them away in a salute. The girl with him smiled, blushing as she pulled on his arm.
Sylvia returned his salute with a tight-lipped smile as George and his date turned away to run off behind the house. She turned back around, raising an eyebrow up at Fred as he cleared his throat awkwardly. Her eyes blinked slowly and she reached up to wipe a smudge of pinkish lipstick from his mouth.
"What are you thinking?" She dropped her hands to her side, looking up at him like he was a puzzle.
"Hm?" He blinked, unclasping his hands from behind him and wrapping his arms around her waist to gently pull her in.
She rested her head against his shoulder, peering up at him.
"You're very deep in thought," She reached up to tap a finger against his forehead, "What are you thinking about?"
He let out a scoff and grinned down at her, entertained by the fact that she had practically forgotten what they had just been doing.
"Well. I suppose I'm thinking about you asking me what we'd do if you weren't drunk right now."
"Ohhh!" She threw her head back, patting a hand against his chest, "That. Yes."
Fred laughed again, resting his cheek on her head as she leaned back in, and he moved his arms up to hold her around her shoulders. She sighed into him and closed her eyes, wrapping her own arms around him, swaying back and forth gently to the music coming from inside the tent.
"When I'm sober, I want you to tell me what you were thinking when I asked you."
He shook his head but smiled and placed a kiss on the top of her head.
"Sure, darling."
Suddenly, her eyebrows raised and she tilted her head up slightly off his shoulder. Her hands moved to lay against his chest. A wide grin displayed a lovely set of crowded teeth and her eyes squinted happily.
"Call me that again." Her voice had raised nearly an octave, sweet and chirping.
"What? Darling?" He tucked his chin in, eyebrows scrunched in amused confusion.
She swooned, closing her eyes and letting her forehead fall onto his chest between her hands. He chuckled and dipped down to grab her by her knees and heave her over his shoulder with a grunt.
"Bed time."
Sylvia gave out a delighted shriek and dissolved into a peals of laughter as she hung upside down, her legs kicking under his grip. Fred smiled at the joyful ring of her laughter and walked towards the house.
"Oh so we are going to bed together!" She paused from her laughing to lift her head up, watching the tent grow farther away as he carried her.
"Very funny." He smiled as he entered the Burrow and walked up the stairs, all with Sylvia thrown over his shoulder, humming the tune of the song Bill and Fleur danced to the whole way up to his room.
Fred stepped into his room with a whistle and hummed along with her, turning on the lamp on his desk. Tilting down to the bed, he let her slip off his shoulder and flop down onto the puffy quilts. He pulled her shoes from her feet, tossing them aside. They continued to hum together, Sylvia hiccuping as he sat her up on the edge of the mattress and raised her hands above her head. She obliged and let him lift the slinky dress off, leaving her in just her underwear.
She sat, half-naked on his bed and hiccuped again as he stepped away to pull a t-shirt and a pair of boxers out of the chest of drawers. He returned, pausing his humming to nod at her.
"Come on, arms up."
With exaggeration, she flung her arms up and groaned as he pulled the shirt over her head, brushing back the hair that had been pushed into her face. He picked her up off the bed from under her arms and bent down to take her underwear off.
"Hey!" She snapped, but lifted her feet up to help him anyways, "No funny business!"
Fred looked up at her with tucked in lips and a raised eyebrow, helping her step into the boxers and pulling them up around her waist. He straightened up, brushed her hair back from her forehead, and sighed.
"Better?"
But she frowned and shook her head.
"What is it?"
"I have to wash my face."
"Okay?"
"I don't want to."
"So don't."
"I have makeup on, I have to!"
"Okay! Jesus, let's go then." He held her hand and guided her back out the room and down the hall, where she scrubbed her face in contempt.
She insisted on doing her whole routine, but could hardly stand straight without tipping over. So she sat on the toilet and told Fred exactly what to do, having him rub moisturizer onto her face and pat eye cream on. And he did so with a sigh, but secretly found comfort in taking care of her.
"I need lip balm." She smacked her lips, watching him as he riffled through her bag, "Lip balm."
"What's it look like."
"Lip balm."
"Thanks."
"Lip. Balm." She exaggerated the consonants, popping the p and lengthening the lm as she mumbled the words over and over to herself, watching Fred search the bathroom for it.
He finally found it sitting by the sink and held it out to her. But she shook her head.
"You do it."
He blew a puff of air out his nose and leaned down, uncapping the little tube as she looked up at him, continuing to mouth lip balm.
"Stop moving." He mumbled, holding her chin with his other hand.
She listened and puckered her lips out to him as he smeared the balm over them poorly, but she rubbed them together and smiled at him happily.
He helped her back up and led her back to his bed, pulling back the covers and watching her curl up before he tucked them back over her. He sat on the edge of the bed, sweeping her hair behind her ear and watching as she blinked up at him with her mouth open slightly.
"Thank you." She said.
Fred smirked, "You're welcome."
She shifted, cuddling further in to the pillows and quilts around her.
"Will you kiss me goodnight?"
"Hmm, I don't know about that," He teased, "I don't think I'm ready for that kind of intimacy."
But she was already pulling him down by the sides of his face, grinning as she kissed him, leaving an extra peck before he leaned back. Her lip balm was mint flavoured.
Her hands brushed over his brow and cheekbones and her eyes wandered over his face, a content smile on her lips. Her cheeks were still glowing with drunkenness and her eyelids were beginning to lower. She looked like she was about to fall asleep when she spoke, a sweet whisper beckoning Fred to lean down to hear her better.
"Fred."
"Yeah?"
"You know something awful?"
He shook his head. She wet her lips with her tongue and tucked a piece of her hair back.
"I felt bad that everyone found out about us back in school."
He blinked down at her, letting out a small breath through his nose. She spoke before he could reply.
"I thought about apologizing to you."
"Why would you want to do that?" He squeezed her arm over the covers.
Her eyes wandered around a little bit, thinking. Her lips were parted and her tongue pressed up against the back of her teeth and Fred wanted to take her in his arms and hold her as hard as he could.
"You didn't mean to, but you had this kind of power over me. And I'd do anything for you because I was so in love with you and couldn't believe you liked me. I felt so lucky."
"Sylvie."
"I felt so lucky to get you."
"Don't say that. I was the one who was lucky."
"This was different. You know what I mean."
He did know. He was the one who had really asked to keep it a secret the first time. Sylvie had only affirmed what he was insinuating. And again, when they started seeing each other seventh-year, it was like an unspoken agreement that Fred had decided on and if Sylvie wasn't on board, then it wouldn't happen. He knew that she would do anything for him and he could do anything to her, she told him so, and still there was that boundary between them because of who they were. Fred was the kid who everybody liked and Sylvia was the girl who'd show up to potions class after getting pushed into the lake.
"I felt like it was my fault that people found out." Her voice was so quiet, "Even though it was you who kissed me in front of everyone."
Fred just swallowed and squeezed at her arm again. He felt like crying then, "Everyone knew anyways."
She nodded, "I know. And I know they didn't even care." Her eyes had a clearness to them, then. She swallowed, "And the whole ... thing I did at the beginning of seventh year," she grimaced at herself, her hands flying up to rub at her eyes with embarrassment, "The posters and the writing in the bathroom. The fucking fishnets. I needed to feel bad for myself. I wanted to... I don't know. Maybe I wanted the thing with Quentin to finally happen and I thought that was the best way to do it. Or it was me trying to lose all the friends I made the year before. I don't know, honestly."
The corners of her lips were turned up in a slight smile, but her brows remained furrowed, "You must've thought I was even more of a psychopath when I told you I'd done it all."
Fred shook his head. His voice was quiet and calm, "Not really. It didn't exactly cause more concern than seeing your brother break your nose."
"You didn't go beat him up or anything after that, did you?"
"No. I talked to him though."
She nodded, "Mm."
"He--" Fred blinked up and took in a deep breath, "He told me a lot. I wasn't sure then if I believed him or not. But I want you to know I don't."
She nodded again and looked past him now, up at the ceiling, then shook her head. Her eyes were lined with tears that threatened to spill if she blinked, "Why were you so afraid of being seen with me?"
He sniffed and brushed a curl of hair from her temple, "Because I was too concerned with what everyone would think. I pretended not to be, but obviously I was."
Sylvia's eyes met his and he thought he might turn to stone.
"I'm still in love with you, Fred. It's just in a different way now."
Fred nodded, as if to say, Good, it aught to be.
He leaned down to kiss her, soft and gentle. He kept his face close to hers when he pulled away, pinching an eyelash from her cheek.
"You're supposed to blow on them and make a wish."
"I've never heard of that. Is this some muggle thing--"
"Oh shit. I forgot to take my contacts out."
She pushed herself up and rubbed her palm against her temple, pulling back the covers to swing her legs over the side of the bed. Then she stopped. Her eyes were locked on the open window across the room that faced out onto the front lawn.
"Fred."
"Hmm?"
She stood suddenly, the bare soles of her feet padding across the hardwood floor quickly as she stepped up to the window. Her hand rested on the frame, the other on the wall. Fred followed her. A freezing breeze blew in, sending a wave of goosebumps across his arms.
An icy blue glow was radiating from inside the tent and only one voice was speaking. He couldn't hear it, just a general drone of syllables.
"What's going on?" Sylvie whispered.
Fred shook his head, "I don't know--"
Screams carried from inside. At least ten twirls of black smoke swirled into view with a sharp snap, and with merely a split second of thought, Fred pulled his wand from his pocket and ran for the door.
"Fred!" Sylvie called after him.
"Stay here." He yelled over his shoulder, running down the stairs as fast as he could.
His feet weren't moving fast enough, stumbling down step after step at what felt like a glacial pace. The cacophony grew louder and his senses zeroed in on the tent, flashes of color zapping behind the white sheets like fireworks.
He stepped inside. Someone screamed. A bolt of yellow light shot in front of him and he sidestepped, knocking into another person. Almost immediately, a force hit him in the shoulder like a punch, and he fell back, tumbling onto the dance floor. His wand wasn't in his hand.
A man stood about six feet away from him, telltale black clothing and grizzled look of a Death Eater, raising his wand to thrust it back forward. He was in the midst of revealing a toothless smile when a stream of red lightning struck the side of his head, sending him flying into the side of the tent. Standing by the entrance in Fred's shirt and boxers was Sylvie, wand still raised and chest rising and falling with heavy pants from running after him. Fred scrambled to find his wand, narrowly evading a kick to the ribs as someone ran past.
Sylvia found it first, snatching it from the ground and tossing it to him wordlessly before ducking behind a table.
He didn't need to think, because he was already running over to her. And when he grabbed her hand and caught her eye, he knew she'd already understood what was about to happen. Her eyes widened and her brows pulled together in frantic confusion. It would take her ages to forgive him for this one, but they were already gone.