Wot In The Harri Potter?

17 - The Kiss

Fred is an amazing dancer.

Which is a good job, because I am not.

But he somehow manages to lead us through a perfectly acceptable waltz, surreptitiously whispering instructions in my ear as we do so.

Being this close to him makes me feel things I didn't know I could feel. The enticing scent of his cologne tickles my nose and I am hyper aware of his hand on my waist, of the way his fingers grip commandingly into my side as he guides me through the moves. The way he is taking charge like this is - dare I say it - sexy, and this just makes me want to kiss him even more.

When the Champions dance comes to an end, and it is time for us to take our seats for the feast, I am almost disappointed.

But I am hungry too, so I'll take it.

Fred grabs my hand and leads me to the Champions table, and by this point I know I'll let Fred lead me anywhere.

"You're a good dancer," he says, pulling out a chair and indicating for me to sit.

"You don't have to lie," I laugh, sitting down. "I had no idea what I was doing out there!"

"Well, you could have fooled me," he smirks, taking the seat next to me. "You moved exactly to my will, and with such delicacy and grace to boot."

This entire sentence makes my face grow hot. He chuckles as I touch a hand to my cheek, trying to hide how flustered I feel.

"You're smooth, Weasley," Cedric Diggory says, snapping a breadstick in half. "I'll give you that."

"Well it wouldn't have hurt for you to say something like that," Cho says angrily, scowling at her date. "Much nicer than 'a hippo couldn't have done worse.'!"

"You kept standing on my foot!"

"Go die, Cedric!"

An awkward silence falls at the table. Fred coughs, reaching for the bottle in the middle. "Wine anyone?"

He tops up my glass without waiting for an answer.

I look around at our companions: at a pissed off looking Cedric and an angry Cho. Then there is the beautiful Fleur Delacour and her date, Roger Davies, who is just sat there drooling at her. And, of course, Krum and Hermione, both deep in conversation, and eyes for no one but each other.

I smile at Fred, butterflies taking flight in my stomach as he grins back.

"So, what is your favourite food?" He asks.

"We're doing favourite things now?" I ask, smiling harder, loving how he is making an effort. "Well, to be honest I like anything that hasn't been scraped out of the kitchen bin, being starved to death will do that to you."

Fred's grin instantly vanishes, replaced by a look of horror. And I realise that bringing up childhood trauma during a date probably isn't the done thing.

"Shit, I'm sorry-" I start to say. But to my surprise he reaches out and takes my hand in his, gently squeezing it as he looks at me with such a sad look in his eyes, that I find myself choked with emotion.

"Don't be sorry, Harri," he says with a fierce sincerity. "I just wish George and I could have come and broken you out of that place sooner."

"Don't let Ron hear you say that, according to him that rescue mission was solo."

"Bollocks," Fred scoffs, "without us, he wouldn't have gotten any further than our front door."

His eyes twinkle as he laughs, and it is completely contagious. I want to sit here and laugh with him for the rest of my life.