Unbreakable - Fred Weasley

Drunk in Love

*WARNING: This chapter is like, a bit ~spicy~ I guess (?)*

It is not terrifically explicit—I think. Or, I tried to make it not at least.(uncertain as to what y'all are comfortable with yet)
But just so you know!
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Neville had been walking down towards the water, wanting to find some aquatic plants for his Herbology class. The early morning was the best time to go, there were no people around to bother him, and the water was tranquil and quiet. He did this nearly three times a week, never saw anyone or heard anything.
Not until today.
He stumbled across her, splayed out on the floor of the boathouse, loose tendrils of her hair frozen onto her face. Without a thought, he gently picked her up and rushed towards the castle.
Olivia stirred when she felt herself move, she shifted in his arms, and tried to open her eyes. The only thing she could see was a mess of brown hair.
"C-cedric, you c-c-came back." She tried to reach her hand up, but couldn't find the strength. She smiled regardless and collapsed in his arms. Neville's eyes widened when she had mistaken him for Cedric, unsure of what to do except for get her to the hospital Wing as quickly as possible. The cold water from her clothes seeped through his, and he shivered as he made his way up.
———
"Mr. Longbottom, what happened to her?" Madame Pomfrey demanded as soon as she saw him, Olivia hanging limply from his arms.
"I-I, I dunno. I just found her, outside in the boathouse and—"
"The boathouse? And how long was she out there?"
"I dunno."
"Well, what do you know?"
"Th-that's Olivia."
"Honestly," Madame Pomfrey scoffed, rolling her eyes. She ushered Neville to put the girl down on a bed and ran to find a potion that would warm her. Neville stayed by her side, not knowing what else to do, and not wanting to go to Fred without a full account of what had happened and the certainty that she was alright. His foot tapped the ground incessantly, drawing many annoyed huffs from Madame Pomfrey, not that he noticed—the nausea from the stress overwhelming him completely.

Finally, she opened her eyes.
—
"Neville?" Olivia asked in a hoarse croak, her larynx still defrosting in her throat. She felt different, care-free. Neville nodded,
"You were in the boathouse."
"I was." She said, turning towards him, "did she say when I can leave?"
"N-no, she didn't." Neville stumbled over his words. A sudden dread filled her,
"You didn't tell Fred, did you—?" But she was interrupted by the door bursting open so violently that they hit the walls with a bang. She turned her head to see Fred rush in, George and Lee following closely behind. Her head swivelled back to Neville, who held his arms up in innocence. Mere seconds passed before she felt arms encompass her and the air leave her lungs. Fred pulled away quickly, grabbing her face in his hands,
"Love, what happened?" He quickly turned to Neville, "and why didn't you tell anyone?"
"You didn't?" She tried to turn to Neville, but Fred's hands held her head in place.
"No—" Neville started,
"He didn't." George said curtly, crossing his arms.
"How did you find me? If Neville didn't tell you." She asked,
"Some Hufflepuff saw Neville carrying you into the hospital wing—everyone knew by breakfast." George replied,
"Olivia—what happened!?" Lee interjected, exasperated, "was it because of what I said?"
Fred rolled his eyes annoyed, and turned his attention back to Olivia.
"I was... sleepwalking." She lied, not wanting to sound entirely crazy by saying, I saw the ghost of Cedric.
"Again?" Fred asked, she nodded slightly, holding his hands against her and bringing them down into her lap.
"Can I speak to Fred, alone?" She looked around at everyone, stopping at Neville, "thank you very much Neville. I likely would have frozen if it hadn't been for you. I owe you one."
They left, leaving her and Fred alone, he sat on the edge of the bed.
"Look Wood, Lee told me what he said and I never said anything about that, or even inclined that—"
"Never?" She asked,
"No, I would never—"
"—want me to be a Weasley?"
"What?"
"Because I don't think... I don't think I'd mind it." She kept her voice even, speaking more boldly than she ever had. She was trying to do what Cedric had told her—to live, to love. Fred watched her, a smile spreading across his face. "But we're still only dating, so don't get any ideas, Weasley."
"Whatever you say, Wood."
———
"You need to rest for the remainder of the day Ms. Wood." Madame Pomfrey looked her up and down as she stood awkwardly beside Fred, who had his hand securely clasped around hers.
"Alright." She replied.
"And take this before you go to sleep." She handed Olivia a red vial, and nodded. Fred led Olivia out of the Hospital wing and up towards Gryffindor tower.
"Where are we going?" Olivia asked,
"My room." Fred answered, tightly squeezing her hand.
"But—"
"Your sleepwalking is getting out of hand, I need to be able to keep an eye on you. I won't lose you."
Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared up at him, suddenly overcome with emotion. Carelessly, she pulled him behind a pillar and crushed her lips into his, needing his lips against hers like she needed air. Their tongues danced together as she breathed him in, her hands knotted into his hair and his found her hips, pressing her against him. She was backed into a wall, there was no space between them, his hands lifted the hem of her skirt before he pulled away suddenly. Breathing deeply they stared into one another's eyes,
"What is it?" She asked,
"You're meant to be resting." He smirked, a blush crept up her neck,
"R-right." She stammered, looking down. He brought his hand to her chin, lifting it up and planting soft kisses along her jawline. He met her lips and pulled away, biting the bottom lip—eliciting a soft gasp from her. He leaned down, nibbling her ear before whispering,
"Let's go."
She followed him from behind the pillar and covered her ears as he said the password, climbing through the portrait hole behind him. He led her up the stairs and they collapsed on the bed together in a tangle of limbs, she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Fred watched in awe, wondering how she could fall asleep so quickly and listened to her soft breathing. He tucked her hair behind her ear, and left her to sleep, waking her only once—to give her the red potion that Madame Pomfrey had prescribed. She drowsily drained it and laid her head back down, drops of red dribbling off of her lips and onto his pillow. He didn't mind though, not while she was there, at his side. There was nothing to mind.
———
Olivia woke up to complete darkness, unaware of what time it was. It must've been past midnight, she felt an arm around her waist and warm breath against her face and realized that she was in Fred's bed with him. She nestled into him, and heard his voice sleepily ask,
"What's wrong, love?"
She lifted herself onto him, her nose against his,
"Absolutely nothing." She smiled against his lips, feeling—for the first time in what seemed like forever—deliriously happy.
She kissed Fred fervently moving down his jaw and to his neck, taking in every inch of him. His hands found her waist, moving up her shirt—his touch like electricity coursing through her. He flipped her over, her back now against the bed—chest to chest— with him towering overtop of her. His hands swept over her belly, moving up to her ribs as she wrapped her legs around his waist. One of his hands moved to her knee, sliding higher up her leg as she moaned into his shoulder. He paused, as his fingertips brushed against her,
"We can stop if you want, you wanted to take it slow." He whispered, the want in his voice sending lightning up and down her spine and betraying his words. She moved her hands to his face,
"I don't want to stop, I never want to stop." She said, an unyielding hunger in her voice. Fred kissed up and down her neck, hands working on the buttons of her shirt as she breathlessly whispered his name to him. He got her skirt off quickly, it was lost in the sheets and far away from her in mere seconds. Yanking his shirt above his head she pawed at his belt, pulling it through the loops in one swift tug and loosening the button and zipper. His hands were on the back of her bra, unfastening the hooks in record time and she felt suddenly very naked. Her arms crossed her chest unconsciously and Fred stopped, noticing her stiffness. Although they were completely shrouded in darkness and she knew that he couldn't see her, she felt utterly exposed—just in her knickers, her hair wildly covering the sheets. He leaned against her, pushing his lips to her ear,
"You look bloody beautiful, Wood."
The low growl of his voice, and the overwhelming smell of smoke intoxicated her and her hands were in his hair— as his hands, mouth, and tongue explored the entirety of her chest with breathtakingly thorough and enthusiastic vigour.
His fingertips made their way down to her hips before he paused,
"You're sure?" He asked again, his husky voice dripping with lust,
"Positive." She moaned, pulling him into her. His fingertips made their way between her legs and she gasped into him, her nails digging into his back. Her back arched instinctively, feeling the cotton sheets cradle underneath her and his chest on hers. The heat between them and the feel of his fingers sent her into a newfound euphoria, the desire for him was burning through her at an unprecedented rate—she pulled her legs around him tightly, trapping his hand and hungrily meeting his lips with hers. He pulled his hands away and leaned into her,
"This isn't resting, Wood." He joked, his voice oozing with longing,
"I'm done resting, Weasley." She smirked,
It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was certainly different than anything that she'd ever experienced before. There was a slow moving rhythm between their bodies, it felt foreign to her, a building tension growing in her hips—it felt different than what he'd been doing before, but amazing nonetheless. Her inexperience grew more noticeable as their movements clumsily moved out of synchronization, like a dancer unfamiliar with her partners maneuvers.
"I need you Olivia, give in to me." His voice was low, pleading with her in a tone that she'd never heard before. But what struck her more was that he called her Olivia. Not "love," not "Wood," not Olive, but Olivia. Olivia. Just Olivia.
"Okay," she breathed out, entranced by him. She let him take the lead, giving herself up to him entirely and moved as he moved, certain for a moment that she saw stars.
Fred's kisses began to grow wilder—more urgent, his grunts in correspondence with his thrusts, and his teeth meeting her lips more often than before. The pressure was building inside of her, her nails digging deeper into his back, until she couldn't bear any more. He was mumbling incoherently into her neck as he angled his hips in a different way, sending waves of satisfaction coursing through her veins.
"You certainly like that," His voice was smug, breath jagged between thrusts.
"Shut up," she moaned, arching her back into the mattress. His mouth found her chest again, and her hands lightly pulled his hair. She'd never imagined that two people could fit together so perfectly, so completely— realizing that she would do anything for the red headed boy that was above her.
She cried out, succumbing to the pressure that had built up inside her. She held him tightly, as he swore under his breath and dug into her one last time before crumpling against her.
"Fred Weasley, I love you." She sighed, he kissed her neck slowly and grunted in reply. She smiled as he moved from on top of her to beside her, his hand slung across her chest as he nuzzled into her neck.
"And I adore you, Wood."
She didn't think she'd ever felt quite this happy, she fell asleep with a smile on her face, a little spoon curled against Fred's chest.
———