The Dane and the Magpie - (Fred Weasley Fanfiction)

The Age Line

Vocabulary for my 52.4% of readers that are from the US:

Shag - to take a conservative nap, I promise that's what it means.

Well (adjective) - used for emphasis, a replacement for very. example: that was well good.

Yorkshire Pudding - A delightful treat consisting of flour or cornstarch, egg, butter and some other condiments.

"Where were you yesterday, you just kind of went missing, also you smell different?" Cho asked, her face one of concern. Wren was holding back a smile while taking bites of her breakfast. She glanced at Cho, who stared her down for a minute before her eyes widened in realisation. "You weren't-"

"HAWTHORN!" A furious voice called from the entrance from the hall. Wren turned her head and saw a very angry Adrian Pucey, he had a gash on his forehead - no doubt from Fred, and was making rapid movements towards her table. "Oh god," Wren whispered, she turned back around to face Larson who looked confused and disgusted at the Slytherin boy approaching the table. Adrian grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. Wren quickly shoved him away.

"What do you want?" She said tiredly, rubbing the sore arm he'd grabbed, he was fuming.

"I want you to pay for what you did to me!" He whispered harshly. "And I want you to fix my wand." Wren rolled her eyes and sat back down.

"There'd be nothing wrong with your wand if you hadn't attacked me. Go find someone else to help you. Better yet, sprinkle some of that magic Daddy's money around and get yourself a new one." Adrian slammed his fist on the table and Wren looked back up at him, hoping the wound on his head would scar.

"Just you wait Hawthorn, the first opportunity I get, you'll find yourself in the hospital wing for weeks." Wren doubted he possessed the capability to do that, Larson snorted a laugh, "Yeah oKaY, sure thing." Wren sniggered, covering her mouth with her hand to try and hold back a fit of laughter.

"That's it-" Adrian went to grab his wand but was quickly interrupted.

"Mr Pucey, might I suggest you make your way your seat before you find yourself in a week of detention?" Adrian quickly walked away, leaving only Mrs McGonagall and the two girls, the teacher dressed in a coned hat and full black robes turned to Wren and Larson, eyebrows raised with a curious smile. "As for you two, I don't know what you've been up to in this short space of time to result in such frivolities, but might I suggest you refrain from such actions in the future?" 

Wren nodded, smiling apologetically, Larson stuck her hand out for a high five. "Sure thing Minnie!" McGonagall frowned disapprovingly and walked away. "She left me hanging, rude." Wren giggled, elbowing her friend in the ribs.

"Anyway," Cho continued, manoeuvring back into the conversation. "I believe you were justifying your suspicious absence before we were rudely interrupted." Wren bit her lip, attempting to hide a smile.

"I may have been in Fred's dorm for the night." Larson gasped. "Wren you cheeky slag! Did anything happen?" Wren grinned, taking a sip of tea.

"He asked me to be his girlfriend." Larson frowned. "I meant did you shag?"

"Wouldn't be talking about me?" Wren turned around in her seat and smiled at Fred, who in response leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I was just asking Wren if the two of you boned last night since she never came to the dorms." Fred grimaced.

"Brash as every Lar - how was your summer?" She smiled at him sarcastically, before tapping Wren on the shoulder.

"Not half as interesting as yours' by the sounds of it." Wren choked on her drink, glaring at Larson warningly, the girl smiled back sweetly. "I bet you're well riled up that you can't enter the tournament Weasley," Fred smirked, glancing over to George.

"We have a plan to get around the age line." George waved, he was sat in front of a small cauldron that was steaming. "I'd better go help him, talk to you both later." Fred jogged over to his brother and handed him a bottle of something Wren couldn't quite recognise.

"Wait, what's going on?" She looked at Larson, who was chomping down a Yorkshire pudding.

"There's an age restriction of seventeen, you can still enter cause you're the oldest in the year, no one else in our year can." Wren took a sip of her tea which was beginning to take the dangerous shift from perfect temperature to lukewarm. "I'll enter, but I've had a year less of education than everyone else who can enter." Larson shrugged.

"You're a Ravenclaw, it'll be fine." Thinking about the house she had been placed in with pride, Wren smiled.

* * *

After classes, Wren headed with Cho over to the goblet. "Wren, this is a terrible idea - people have died in this tournament." Wren patted Cho on the head. "Don't worry Chang, I might not even get chosen, and if I do end up dying, you can have my spot as the team seeker." Cho whacked her on the back of the head with her book on transfiguration. "Being a chaser is more than acceptable as long as I finish the year with two best friends instead of one." Wren grinned at her.

Walking into the room Wren had suspected that it may be busy, what she hadn't suspected was that she'd find two old men with long beards wrestling around on the floor. They were shouting and arguing, Wren recognised their voices almost immediately. "Is that Fred and George?" Hermione came walking over to them.

"I warned them their spell wouldn't work, but they didn't listen, hey what do you two think of Viktor Krum?" Wren glanced over to the boy stood in a fur coat, he was watching Hermione curiously. 

"A good quidditch player if that's what you're asking, if you mean anything else - illegal, he turned eighteen this summer." Hermione nodded sheepishly before heading out of the hall. 

"I suppose I'd better get to it." Wren grabbed the torn parchment signed with her name and walked up to the goblet, she felt a bit nervous but saw Ron give her a thumbs up so she dropped her name in. The goblet's blue fire swallowed her entry and she swallowed nervously, well, no backing out now.