𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖊 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖉𝖞 // ғ.ᴡ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Chapter 11: Whiskey leads to loose lips, who knew?

The song used in this chapter is 'Worst of you' by Maisie Peters.

Warnings: consuming alcohol.

Dinner was a blur, your mind still reeling from Fred's statement. He acted like it was a throwaway comment as if you had been speaking at all before this. you hadn't, he had come out of fucking nowhere, said you had a beautiful voice, and walked away. What? What!

Roaring flames were being created in the driveway. Logs had been placed around it in a slight circle. The boy's figures could be seen attending to the fire, throwing logs on and poking the beast when they felt it was needed. Orange and red, the occasional lick of white, swallowing logs and twigs, the fire was alive. And you loved it. inviting you with its warmth, the three of you headed out. Ginny was carrying blankets, you had your guitar and your book in your arms.

Despite being nervous, you were excited. Contrary to what people may assume, you didn't mind having criticism, living with your parents you had grown accustomed to it. It was just so, vulnerable. Self-confidence wasn't something you lacked, or it was but you were so closed off to the world, people never questioned your faith in yourself. Singing an original song was like opening the gates of your estate. Letting the people who knew you the best in, who knew the weakest parts of you. Shaking the paranoia from your head you looked around. You were on a log with Ginny, Hermione was sharing with Ron, Harry was sharing with Fred and George was alone. Reaching his arms behind himself he produced two bottles of firewhiskey and some glasses.

Cheers erupted, all clearly excited for the prospect of a drunken haze settling over you all. It had been a while. A glass was handed to each of you, followed by the whiskey being passed around. Helping yourself to a generous amount, then downing it straight away. It burned your throat, wincing as the fire settled over your chest. Then pouring yourself another healthy amount.

"Careful there y/n, you won't be able to walk! You're only small." Ron said with a guffaw.

"Knock it off Ronald." Hermione scolded. No doubt knowing why you were eager to feel the effects.

After that conversations picked up, giggles were passed around like the whiskey. Secrets spilled and stories shared. The glow of the fire was reflecting on everyone, peering around everyone looked happy, even Fred looked carefree. Fred looked good, not a hard task for him. The fire echoed in his eyes, making them seem warmer, more enticing. Gazing down, he licked his lips, go they looked so... tempting?

Shit, maybe the firewhiskey was hitting a bit too hard.

Right, now was the time. Putting down your drink and replacing it with your guitar, you looked up at your friends.

"Guys, Hermione may have convinced me into doing an utterly stupid thing," at this everyone's attention focused on you. Brilliant, that wasn't terrifying at all. "I'm going to sing a song, if that's something you would like," your friends, at this point were either beaming or in Ron and Harry's case looking at you in awe and slight shock. "It's called 'Worst of you' and I only finished it today so please be kind."

It was slightly unnerving that no one had uttered a word, although Ginny sent you a thumbs up and whispered a little "You're gonna nail it!" making you feel a little better.

Fingers shaking slightly from the alcohol thrumming through your bloodstream, you found the chords of the first verse, and just tried to slip into that headspace. The one where everything else just disappears, it's just you and your words, your music.

The first strum is nerve-wracking, but once it's over you tumble into the comforting space where you know what you're doing. Playing comes naturally to you, no one knows this song better than you do.