1: Trouble - Fred Weasley

16. streets

baby, we tried to fight it, we all been there some days

thought I needed something else, and acted like I was okay

we just had to work it out and baby, I needed space

ain't nobody 'round here on your level, you're so far away

-

Imogen was awoken by Mo slamming the dorm door open.

"Still asleep, Imogen? Merlin, you must be hungover."

Imogen yawned, squinting at the curtains closed around her bed. "Well, I was asleep."

"I stayed with Victor last night, I'm just coming back for my stuff, he let me shower with him." Imogen could hear Mo digging around in her stuff.

"Nice." Imogen mumbled into the pillow.

Mo giggled. "It was, actually.... Oh, and what the fuck," she paused, Imogen thought maybe to pull her shoe on, "was with you leaving with Fred Weasley? I mean that was weird, Imogen."

Imogen yawned again. "I dunno. I had a good night."

"What you had was too much gin. Please, if you're that desperate for someone to hold hands with at the end of a night, just ask me."

Imogen could hear Mo spraying herself with perfume, before she spoke again. "Right come on, let's get breakfast, I'm starving."

"Oh, no, you go without me, I need a wash."

"Ugh, well hurry, don't miss it!"

Within seconds the door had slammed behind her, and Imogen relaxed properly again. Beside her, Fred popped his head out of the covers.

"Merlin, she really doesn't like me, does she?" he cracked.

Imogen flung open the curtain and slipped out, grabbing her tshirt from the floor. "You need to get dressed. Shit, the common room is going to be so busy now. We were supposed to sneak you out."

She pulled the tshirt over her head and turned around to find Fred with his eyes still closed. He looked so pretty, shirtless in her bed, she almost forgave him for sleeping in.

"We could just stay in here all day. I've never been too fussed on breakfast."

Imogen sat on the bed to pull her tights on, glad her back was to him so he couldn't see her grin. "Get up, Weasley."

She heard a shuffling behind her, but then a pair of arms wrapped around her and pulled her back onto the bed, so she was lying on his bare chest.

"Fred," she laughed. She grabbed his arm, meaning to pull it off of her, but she ended up just holding it. She ran her fingertips along his freckled forearm. He felt so good, warm against her.

"Come on," she said, after allowing herself a few moments. "We need to think."

Fred pretended to think. "Hmmmm. You might just have to keep me in your bed forever."

Don't tempt me, Imogen nearly said. Instead she pried him off of her and got up, finding his trousers on the floor. She threw them at him.

"Get up."

Finally, he relented, and got dressed. Imogen tried not to make it too obvious she was watching him, drinking in his body. She hadn't seen too much of it last night, in the dark. Now she caught glimpses of slight muscle across his pale skin, dotted with freckles and body hair. She watched as the silver chain around his neck disappeared beneath his shirt, and he turned to face her to find her staring.