1: Trouble - Fred Weasley

17. ivy

i can't stop you putting roots in my dreamland

my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now i'm covered in you

i'm covered in you

-

Imogen's lessons the next day felt especially long and laborious, and the sunlight seemed to pass in tiny drips as she waited, waited, waited for dinnertime. She couldn't concentrate on any work anyway, not when daydreaming about yesterday, or about later today was so delicious. It was especially difficult in McGonagall's lesson, where Fred sat just a few rows in front of her. McGonagall allowed no talking in her class, but Imogen was free to stare at the back of his head most of the lesson, so she did. At one point he turned around and gave her a little smile. It certainly didn't help with her hapless daydreaming.

Finally, mercifully, the end of her last lesson came. In the common room, Mo told her she was tired and wasn't going to come to dinner. Dinner was just as long and boring as the rest of the day, especially without Mo to chat to, but after twenty minutes of eating it was time to head to the suit of armour.

He was waiting for her when she found him, his hair still slightly damp from his shower, wearing a big red knitted jumper. When he wrapped an arm around her as a greeting, he smelled of peppermint and bonfire.

"Hello trouble," he said, giving her the nickname she'd given him not long ago. She grinned to hear it.

"I didn't keep you waiting, did I?"

"Only a little bit," he said, and he poked his tongue between his teeth. "It's alright though, I don't mind waiting for you."

Imogen rolled her eyes, smiling stupidly.

"So. What are we doing?"

"Well, I thought we'd pay a little visit to our best friend. Filch."

Imogen raised her eyebrows. "Ooh. Romantic."

"I do know how to treat a lady," he said earnestly, "come on."

They started walking towards Filch's office, and Imogen didn't bother asking why. She liked the surprise.

"What did you have for dinner?" she asked.

He looked at her, laughing a little. "What did I have for dinner?"

"Yeah."

He shook his head, smiling, and then told her. "It's Monday. Obviously I had the pork chops. What did you have?"

"I can't believe you'd pick pork chops over spaghetti. Those house elves know how to make a marinara."

He laughed at her again, but Imogen enjoyed making him laugh now, even when it was at her expense. "What's wrong with pork chops?"

"They're just dry."

"Well that's why you have gravy, plonker–oh, shit–"

His arm shot out to stop her before they could round the corner, and they both crept close to the wall. Peeking around it, Imogen spotted why. Filch was ambling down the corridor ahead of them. She looked to Fred, whose eyes were alight.

"What now?" she said quietly.

Fred was pulling his wand out, and pointing it at Filch. For a moment, Imogen wondered if his grand plan was just to curse the caretaker.

"Now, we just... accio keys," he said, and something began flying from Filch's hip towards Fred's hands. He caught the jingling set of keys with one hand, his face a picture of victory, and pulled Imogen by the arm back the way they came, speed-walking away from the scene of the crime.