i need an easy friend, i do with an ear to lend
but i can't see you every night for free
-
In all honesty, Imogen probably hadn't needed to study in the library this lunchtime. She'd done all her homework, and her application was practically finished, but she had a horrible feeling Adrian's ambition to ask her out hadn't disappeared after the game. Every time she saw him, she was scared he'd come and ask her; he'd probably corner her whilst she was in a big group so she couldn't say no without an uproar. She had never seen him come to the library. So that was where she went.
Today, two tables away from Imogen sat Hermione Granger, surrounded by a pile of thick tomes. She had one open, pinned underneath her elbow, as she furiously took notes. The sound of Hermione Granger's quill was often the only sound you could hear in the library, and today was no different.
Imogen eyed her dedication jealously. She'd brought down a few books on medicinal potions, but a silly romance novel about a witch and a werewolf had piqued her curiosity and she'd spent the last forty five minutes reading chapters one to six, just reaching the point where the werewolf was informing the witch on the rigorous mating practices of an alpha wolf. It was forty five minutes of her life she'd never get back.
So her lunch break was nearly over, and all Imogen had to show for it was a load of questions about how Hogwarts approves books for the library. I doubt Dumbledore read this one before allowing it on the shelves, she thought, with a snort. She flung it to the side.
Hermione seemed to have been much more productive, and with a few last scratchy flourishes of her quill she began packing away. Imogen couldn't bring herself to do the same; she was so tired and the corridors and lessons would be so loud and stuffy. The library was always slightly cooler than the rest of the building. Sometimes slipping in here during lunch felt like slipping into the sea during a heatwave, even if she did just read smutty werewolf romance. Imogen propped her head up on her arm and allowed her eyes to close briefly.
As Granger was making her way out however, the quietness of the library was briefly interrupted by squeaking feet against the floor.
"Sorry Hermione!" someone whisper-shouted, and by the time Imogen had lazily opened her eyes to see what was going on, a Weasley twin was pulling up the chair opposite her, and taking her book.
"Alright Falker?" he said, smiling, slightly out of breath. "I've been studying with you all lunch, okay?"
Imogen was too tired for this. "...Fred? or-"
"Yep!" He opened the book to the page Imogen had closed it on. Her eyes widened at it.
"Fred, that book-"
But there was a second set of footsteps coming now, accompanied by a wheezing breath.
"Shh, I've been here the whole time," he said, full of urgency as he began to pretend to read. Imogen couldn't bear to look.
Filch burst into the library, and hobbled rapidly towards their table. He stopped when he reached it, glaring at Fred. She looked up at him, attempting to appear nonchalant.
"Weasley!" he spat, almost trembling with rage.
Fred feigned intense interest in his book. "Hm? Oh, sorry Filch. Concentrating on my studies."
Filch trembled on. "I know what you did - to my office."
Fred made an exaggerated face of confusion, looking to Imogen, who took that as her cue.
"Oh- um, well Fred's been studying with me here all lunch." she said, her eyes flicking back towards the werewolf erotica in Fred's hands.
Filch looked between the two of them, his mouth hard.
"Studying what?"
"Care of magical creatures," Imogen blurted out. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the edges of Fred's mouth twitch upwards.
"Here," he held the book out to Filch, much to Imogen's horror, "see for yourself."
Filch snatched the book from him, and his beady eyes began to scan the page. His face quickly screwed up, and he gripped the book so hard that the cover began to crease.
"Disgusting... filthy!" he managed to get out, before storming from the library. They waited until he'd disappeared through the doorway to react.
Imogen covered her face with both hands and Fred burst out laughing. She couldn't help but join him. Fred had such a fun laugh; it came from some deep place, his belly, maybe, and just kept rolling on, bouncing out of him like it was the most natural noise he could ever make. And Imogen supposed it probably was.
"He took the book! He took it with him!" he wheezed out between laughs. "Brilliant, Falker. Just brilliant."
She lowered her hands from her face and tilted her head at him. "Just so we're clear. I wasn't reading that-"
But it was no use, Fred just laughed again, harder. "Sure, Falker. I believe you."
"Fred." she said, trying to glare at him.
"And here we were convinced you come to the library to study." he tutted. "Full of surprises, aren't you?"
Imogen stared at him, infuriated, and smiling. "Oh, shut up." She cleared her throat, attempting to dull the blush she was sporting. Luckily she knew that if there was one thing Fred enjoyed more than teasing her, it was talking about how he'd made Filch's life a living hell. "So, what did you do to his office?"
"Pfft, office." Fred made air quotes with his fingers. "You've seen that little cupboard. There's honestly not too much to do with it."
Imogen raised an eyebrow.
"Okay, well, a few stinkpellets may have fallen out of George's pocket." he confessed. "And then I may have accidentally cast a temporary tornado charm down the back of his desk."
He grinned, making a spiralling motion with his hand. "Y'know, to keep the smell circulating."
Imogen rolled her eyes. "Truly genius, Fred."
"Well, we thought so. He deserved it anyway. After last week."
If there was one thing Imogen could appreciate about the twins' pranks, it was the obvious joy it brought them. It was unbridled, almost childlike, and something about it made Imogen viciously envious.
Imogen glanced at the clock in the corner of the room, which only dampened her smile slightly. "Don't we have Dark Arts now? Shouldn't keep Moody waiting."
"Eh, we're probably already late." Fred said dismissively.
"We're not though, it's only five to..."
But Fred's eyes were alight with their usual mischievous glint. He brandished a spliff from inside his jumper sleeve. "Fancy skiving?"
Imogen stared at it, chewing her lip. "You're a bad influence, Fred Weasley."
He shrugged and swept upwards, turning to leave. "Suit yourself. See ya."
He began to walk away and Imogen stood a little abruptly, her chair squeaking as it shifted backwards.
"Fred!" she hissed, and he swivelled around expectantly. "Wait for me."
He grinned, having gotten exactly what he was looking for. "Come on then, Falker."
Shaking her head, she scooped up her bag and muttered an incantation that sent the books back to their places on the shelves. The two of them set off into the relatively quiet corridors; lessons were starting and the walk from the library to the grounds was quite a short one.
They flopped down underneath Fred's favourite shady tree, hoping to conceal themselves from the many overlooking windows. Imogen sat with her back up against the trunk, Fred faced her, lounging on top of his school jumper which he'd taken off to sit on. Now out of the castle, he'd undone the top button of his shirt and loosened his tie. She watched his adam's apple as he lit the spliff.
"I thought you said you didn't like stink pellets. That they were overpriced." she asked, remembering a previous conversation.
Fred nodded, as he took a few continuous, hard tokes on the spliff to get it burning, handing it straight over to her before answering.
"We don't. That's why we've designed our own."
She was so intrigued she didn't smoke before asking more. "Designed your own?"
Fred shrugged. "We needed something with the power of a dungbomb but compact, like a stink pellet. Decided to try and make it ourselves when we couldn't find anything. Turns out Georgie and I made a nice little product after a decent trial period."
He said it all very casually. His eyes flicked back to the spliff in Imogen's hand. "Don't let it go out."
Imogen brought it to her lips, still eyeing him in bewilderment. "So... you're an inventor now?"
Fred looked at her from under his eyebrows. "You don't have to sound so surprised, you know."
"No Fred, I think I'm..." she leant in closer, lowering her voice as if she were ashamed to confess, "impressed."
Fred snorted and Imogen closed her eyes, smoking some more.
"See, I always told mum that stink pellets were a sure-fire way to woo a lady. Now you've proved me right."
Imogen kept her eyes closed, smiling dopily. The gentle noise of the lake tickling the shore was nice in her ears. "Your poor mother."
When she did open her eyes again she and Fred held each other's eyes for a moment too long, causing her stomach to squirm, and she quickly thought of something else to say.
"Is that what you want to do? Invent products like that?"
She held out the joint for him, and after taking it he answered her with it hanging out of his mouth.
"Yeah. Think so. I think... me and George want our own shop eventually."
Imogen imagined the two boys flogging their weapons of mass mischief out of some colourful shop front, all charm and salesmanship.
"I think you'd be good at that." she said. It sounded all too soft once it left her mouth. The conversation lulled for a moment, and Fred was smiling to himself, not looking at Imogen.
"Come on then Falker. Only fair." With his free hand, he pulled a fistful of grass up, and threw it at her. As she batted it away, flinching, he asked her, grinning, "What do you want to do after hogwarts?"
She scowled at him, taking a minute to vigorously brush the grass off of her skirt, and then began to answer.
"Well, if I get this placement I'm applying for, then healer training. I've already done my preliminary sessions with Madame Pomfrey. Then it's... I dunno. Maybe treating long term curses. I want to help research cures, I think. For people who have been suffering a long time."
"I'd have thought you'd be going straight for minister of magic. Or world domination, or something." Fred said.
Imogen snorted. "Merlin no. Maybe in my fathers dreams."
"What, is whiz-kid healer not good enough for him?"
"Ah, you know the drill. There's not much that's good enough in his eyes."
Fred hadn't noticed her quietly gathering grass in her hand, and before he could open his mouth she bent forward and sprinkled it over his head, so it cascaded down his person. She took the opportunity to steal the spliff back too.
"Ah, sweet revenge," she lounged back against the tree, smoking victoriously. "Best served bigger."
Fred sat covered in grass for a moment, staring at her coldly. "You watch your back, Falker."
He then got up and attempted to shake the blades of grass from his hair, of which most came out. Imogen decided he looked best when his hair was tousled. He had more trouble getting the bits that had fallen down the back of his shirt out.
"This is so itchy. I told you you slytherins were evil." he huffed, as he sat back down.
Imogen was thoroughly enjoying this. "Aw, does Freddie not like the taste of his own medicine?"
He eyed her, an eyebrow raised.
"Yeah, yeah. You watch, Falker. I'll get you back."
"I look forward to it."
Perhaps a few months ago, that idea would have made her uneasy. But now that she knew Fred Weasley a bit better, she'd come to find he wasn't as unreasonable as some people thought. She handed him the spliff back, feeling nicely stoned.
"I could go to sleep here now." She said happily, the cool autumn air chilling her out almost as much as the weed.
"That'd be good. I could levitate you into the lake." Fred's voice was hoarse from a big intake of smoke.
Imogen ignored him, thinking to herself that a dip honestly didn't sound too bad. She didn't fancy having to explain soaking wet clothes to her schoolmates though. Her mind drifted back to Filch's office, now smelling assumedly horrendous.
"Filch will probably have a breakdown when he hears you're developing products."
Fred grinned. "Ah, your book should keep him occupied for a while at least."
"It was not my book!"
Fred seemed to find it even funnier every time. Imogen's staunch denial only seemed to make him laugh harder. If her face wasn't hot with embarrassment she'd have recognised that she should have just joined in on the joke; she felt she was giving far too much away, but she found she just couldn't help it.
"So, St Mungos... that means you'll be living in London?" Fred asked, once he'd stopped laughing, his grin still wide.
"Merlin, I hope so. At least until I get married." Imogen answered, looking at the floor.
"Why until you get married?"
"Well, being the Falker heiress and all that. Then I'll have to go back to fathers and push out some perfect little heirs of my own," she said grimly.
Fred was quiet for a moment, and then spoke, voice thick with sarcasm. "Oh, you poor little heiress."
Imogen looked up quite suddenly to meet his eyes, and then found she didn't know what to say.
"I'm just saying," said Fred tentatively. "There are worse problems to have than getting a massive house and a load of money when you get married."
Now she was annoyed. Who was Fred to pass judgement on her? He knew nothing about her family, nothing about her life.
"It's more complicated than that. I don't get to choose so many things. Where I live, what I do, who I marry, or who I'm friends with... it all has to align with the image." She said, trying to keep calm and not sound defensive.
Skepticism was still etched on Fred's face.
"What?" she demanded.
He obliged. "Well... you can choose. If you want. He doesn't want you to be a healer but you're doing that -"
She shook her head, looking at the ground again.
"I'm not saying it would be easy," he offered.
Imogen realised with an uneasy bubble in her stomach that he was almost right. She smiled, shielding her eyes from a ray of sun which was just poking through a cloud.
"What about your parents?"
He breathed out a cloud of smoke. "What about them?"
"Do they support your plan? For the shop?"
Fred reached over and offered her the spliff again, which was becoming quite short now. He thought about it as she smoked. "Ehh, they don't quite share the vision yet. But I think they'll come around. Our older brothers have got quite good jobs, and grades and stuff, so they just think we're mucking about really."
Imogen raised her eyebrows playfully. "What would give them that idea?"
Fred looked innocent. "Beats me."
Lounging outside, they finished the spliff and stayed for the rest of their lesson time. She felt it was an hour well spent, considering Moody had a tendency to freak her out. He was so intense, and though she learned a lot, she found she was always a little on edge in his lessons. And Fred was much more fun.
She insisted she had to go to her last lesson, which was potions. After accepting that he wasn't going to get her to skive again, Fred resigned himself to go and find his brother, and they parted ways at the crowded entrance to the great hall.
Luckily, the potions classroom was always quite dim and full of odd smells, so Imogen was sure no one would notice she'd been smoking. She sat down next to Mo at their usual table near the front of the class.
"Hey."
Mo's head was propped up on her hand. "Oh, hey. Were you not in defence against the dark arts?"
"No." Imogen was taking out her quill and potions book.
"Why?"
She shrugged. "I didn't feel well. Who said I wasn't there?"
"Montague. You missed out on a great werewolf lesson, apparently."
Snape walked from the back of the room to the front, and all conversation stopped.
"Turn to page one two seven, class. Today we will be attempting a draught of dreamless sleep. Can anyone tell me when one may be used?"
Mo put her hand half in the air, and he called on her. "After a traumatic event, professor."
"Ten points to Slytherin. Does anyone know why? Mr Jordan?"
Imogen heard Lee somewhere behind her, struggling for an answer. It didn't sound as if he'd had his hand up. "Uhhm... so they don't have any dreams?"
Snape's mouth curled up into a grimace. "I asked why it would be used, Mr Jordan, you merely reworded the name of the potion. Five points from Gryffindor."
Before long, they were following the instructions in their textbooks, attempting to recreate the draught as Snape wandered around the room. When he got to Imogen and Mo's cauldron, he merely nodded, and moved on.
"You know," Mo said quietly, once he was at the other side of the room, "Adrian was looking for you after the game."
Imogen met her eyes, which were full of suggestion. "Was he?"
Mo nodded. "You should have stayed."
Imogen was glad she hadn't. It was only then that she noticed a badge pinned to Mo's shirt.
"What is that?"
"Oh," Mo snorted. She bent down to get something from her bag. "Draco was handing them out."
She pressed an identical badge into Imogen's hand, and she turned it over. It read 'POTTER STINKS', and then turned into 'SUPPORT CEDRIC DIGGORY'. She shook her head at it.
"There really is something wrong with that boy. What, is he hand making them?"
Mo laughed. "I think the hufflepuff's made them. Draco's just handing them out. Cool, aren't they?"
Imogen met her eyes and knew she was being sarcastic. "Yeah. So cool."
She went to give the badge back to Mo, but she pushed her hand away. "You keep that. It can be your early birthday present."
Imogen made a face. "Well, I'm not wearing it."
She dropped it into her bag and the girls returned to their cauldron. Once their potion was finished, they filled a vial for grading, and then the bell was going and they were allowed to leave.
"I think we smashed that, actually," Imogen said, as they wandered through the corridor. Maybe she should go to potions stoned more often.
"Me too," Mo said. "I'm so tired."
Ahead of them, Imogen could see Molly Macklemill approaching them. For a moment, she thought she was going to march right through her and Mo, but she stopped just in front of them.
"Hi Imogen," she said, sickly sweet. "Just had potions?"
Imogen couldn't remember ever speaking to her before. She shared a glance with Mo before answering. "Yep..."
Molly nodded, her blonde hair dancing around her shoulders. "Did you have fun with Fred the other night?"
Fuck. Imogen tilted her head at her. "I thought you were with Fred the other night?"
She laughed falsely. "Well, I was! But you know Fred."
"Actually no," Mo cut in. "Some of us have better things to do than pine after Weasleys."
Molly and Mo stared each other down, and her face soured.
"I wonder why he's telling everyone he hooked up with Imogen at the party, then," Molly said, bitingly.
Mo almost laughed, turning to Imogen. "As if."
Had Fred really said that? After she'd asked him not to tell anyone? What did 'hooking up' even mean – Imogen was sure it was a muggle term that tended to mean more than a kiss.
"That obviously didn't happen, Molly," Imogen said. Her voice sounded strong but her heart was beating in her ears.
"Why would he say that then?" Molly said, her big green eyes narrowing.
"Ask him, bitch. Imogen would never get with that scruff," Mo said, and with that she took Imogen's arm and left Molly standing there gormless.
"Who does she think she is, speaking to you like that?" Mo hissed.
"I don't know," Imogen said, though she didn't share the same anger at Molly. She was a teenage girl who liked a boy, it made sense that she'd say shit like that.
Imogen's annoyance was aimed mostly at Fred. Was he really going around telling people about him and her? Maybe he was just as much of an arsehole as Imogen had thought.
"Merlin, imagine that," Mo laughed, "you and Fred Weasley. I think I'd throw you out a window."
"Yeah," Imogen laughed along. "imagine that."