Rose Lily Lightbourn always knew she was adopted. She remembered the bright green light when she was only three years old, she remembered a red haired woman fall lifeless to the ground. She remembered a baby crying on the crib. She remembered a tall...
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• • •
be my mistake,
and turn out the light
• • •
Rose's head felt heavy; well, that probably was an understatement, she felt like her head was about to burst like a firework. Quietly, and groaning, she shifted her body to the right side, sighing in relief at the warmth her bed provided her. She reached down to her waist, pulling the sheet closer to her face, a familiar scent filling her nostrils. Rose turned on her left side, fully covered by the duvet, the scent grew more prominent, making her smile as she nuzzled comfortably on a soft and warm surface.
Rose's eyebrows furrowed, causing her eyes to flutter open as something in her head seemed to explode from the light entering the room. Her head began to register the room she was in; there were four poster beds and a desk. She recognised the room, it was the Gryffindor's dormitories, but it was not hers'. Rose's head jerked back, removing herself from the soft surface she was laying over. Only then did she realise it was an arm. A well-toned arm, tanned, packed with muscles and covered in freckles, moving with every breath it's owner took, making Rose's mind to go in slow motion. Her eyes traveled further up the arm, afraid of what she might find.
A freckled shoulder blended into a sunburnt neck, and red untidy hair sprouted there. Rose's heart skipped a beat, her eyes turning orange with nerves. The ginger's face was turned away from her, but she did not have to see it to know who it was, when she took a peak into his face, she knew for sure. It was non other than Fred Weasley. Rose did not know if it was because of the hangover, or because of what she might've done the night before, but she felt as if she would be painfully sick.
"Shit," she muttered under her breath, burying her head in her hands. The sheets moved aside when her arms did, revealing her naked body under. "Fuck."
Her heart started beating loudly inside her body as she turned her head towards Fred, shutting her eyes, images came back. Images of Fred, of the party, of them dancing and drinking. His hips moving up against hers, and then his lips pressed against hers.
Rose shook her head to make the memories stop, but Fred was taking off her dress as his tongue traveled down her neck. A million thoughts ran through her head; Should she wake him up? Should she leave? How the fuck did she end up in that situation?
However, two of her questions were answered on their own as she heard Fred groan besides her. She turned her head to him, pulling the sheets to cover her chest, not a second later, Fred opened his eyes. Confused at first, but as soon as his eyes connected to Rose, he looked as if he was shocked by lightning.
"Did we?" Fred whispered, terrified, shooting a look at Rose. She nodded, not looking at him. "Bloody hell."
"Fred," Rose mumbled in a warning tone, Fred now had his head in hands. "No one can find out. Not even George."
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