one wicked weasley // f.w.

four - the sweater

a/n
hello thank you all for your continued support !! 1.5k in a week is just.. y'all WILD.
i just want to give a small shoutout to empress_ren who has been super helpful in regards to this story. she's also writing a george weasley fanfic, so if anyone wants to read it, feel free to head over to her page and give it some feedback!!
now on to chapter four.

I also want to give each chapter a nice titles so if you have any ideas for the second chapter let me know !

song for this chapter: that sweater by scott helman

    That's not grass.

    What rested beneath her felt as soft as grass but her touch was not met by the bladed edges, rather a smooth fabric-like surface. Her finger's curled around what she then realized was a blanket, Theia's mind slowing waking from its alcohol induced sleep. Her eyes felt as if they had been glued together, slowly blinking them open in order to look at her surroundings.

    This is not Ginny's room.

    It was too boyish to be Ginny's room, but wasn't orange enough to be Ron's.

    The twin's room.

    Her eyes widened with the realization and she quickly tried to figure out how she got here. The last thing she remembered was sitting beside George on the hill outside, the hushed sound of his voice lulling her into her dreams. She needed to find George, needed to remember what he had told her last night as she had fallen asleep.

    But before she did that, she needed to get out of this room before anyone got a different idea of what happened last night. Quickly sitting up in the bed, she was greeted by a rolling wave of nausea as stars danced in her line of vision.

    "I am never drinking again." Muttering to herself as she pushed back the covers, trying to calm her nausea enough to be able to leave.

    "I wouldn't move so fast if I were you. I don't want puke all over my floor again."

    Her head turned in the direction of Fred's voice, squinting her eyes as she tried to see him clearly. Her vision cleared enough to allow her to see him seated at a desk near the door, a mug clutched in one hand as he watched her movements.

    "I haven't puked on your floor in over a year Fred, so shut up." The hoarseness of her voice made her cringe, Theia slowly realizing how ridiculous she must look right now.

    "Yes but I don't want to have to clean it up." He began to make his way over to her, holding out a hand to help her out of bed. Instead of taking his hand, she took the mug from his other hand and lifted it up to her nose.

    Coffee.

    "Thank you." Lifting the cup to her lips, she took a large sip of the hot liquid and enjoyed the way it sent a warm sensation throughout her chest.

    "That wasn't for you." He gave her an amused smile but didn't try to take the mug back from her. Fred just stood above her and watched as she savoured the coffee.

    Theia gave a shrug of her shoulders as she peered up at him with a sleepy look. His amusement shift into something more soft, Fred lifting his hand up to brush his fingers against her cheek.

    "I probably look like a mess right now."

    "You're beautiful. As always." He mumbled softly, his fingers brushing a few loose strands of brown hair from her face. This time, she didn't try and stop the blush that worked its way across her cheeks. Fred gently traced the blush with his fingertips before his thumb came to brush against her bottom lip.