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His hand tightened on her wrist, his friends laughed as he pulled her closer and she knew she was the joke. His breath smelt foul making her shiver, but Boles wasn’t finished.
“Filthy Mudblood.” He hissed.
Freya flinched as the words hit her like a slap across the face, however that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was the smirk that tugged at his mouth knowing he’d upset her. One of his friends nudged him urgently, nodding towards something behind her. Boles’ face paled and his grip tightened at whatever he’d seen and Freya couldn’t help but turn to see what had frightened him.
The Weasley twins were staring him down, George looked her up and down before scowling at Boles, Fred clenched his fist, practically baring his teeth in Boles’ direction. The cheers and music from the Yule Ball seemed miles away as all of Freya’s attention focused on Fred, his red cheeks clashed with his ginger hair, it was messy but all Freya could think was how handsome he looked in his dress robes.
Boles seemed to collect himself before jeering “what do you want?” Still pale but forcing himself to meet Fred’s gaze.
Suddenly remembering where she was, Freya jumped. She didn’t want to be here, it was humiliating and she was going to cry even though she was trying so hard no to. One hand still in Boles’ grip the other tugging on her dress nervously. Time seemed to stand still and all she wanted was to go back and refuse Boles’ invitation to the ball.
Fred was shaking, he couldn’t stop the thundering in his head as he replayed Freya’s flinch, the cruel smirks of the small group of Slytherins who watched and most of all the tightness of Boles’ hand on her arm. His usual humour had all but left and the only thing remaining was the sight of Freya trying not to cry.
“Let go.” Fred ordered. On instinct Boles’ grip loosened just enough for Freya to tug her wrist free and stumble towards the Weasleys. She forced herself to march past Fred, her head held high but Fred’s hand landed on her elbow so gently that she paused and stared at it.
“Go to the common room.” He whispered before meeting her gaze “I won’t be long.” He turned back to the group of boys, letting his hand drop from her. Freya glanced at George who simply nodded.
“Don’t do anything stupid.” She wanted to beg him to leave it. To just come with her back to the ball and pretend it hadn’t happened but then she saw the familiar glint in his eye.
“You know I can’t promise that.”
Freya ran, her chest heaving with tears falling down her face, she thought she must have looked ridiculous but she didn’t stop until she finally reached the Gryffindor common room portrait, gasped the password and tripped through the entrance. The fire cast the empty room in a warm glow, she would have appreciated the unusual quiet were it not for the guilt coiling in her stomach. Sat in one of the comfy arm chairs she wrung her hands. As she waited for the Weasleys to arrive two couples stumbled in to the room giggling before noticing her sat in the gloom and scurried away, blushing, to find somewhere more private. Freya felt sick, she shouldn’t have left, she stood and made her way back to the portrait before it burst open, both Weasley twins falling through in a heap.
Both had already forming bruises and Fred had a busted lip, but both were laughing.
“What did you do?” She shouted over their growing laughter.
“Oh George, that’s the thanks we get for defending her honour!” Fred sighed dramatically.
“Yeah Freddie! You’d think she’d be swooning in to our arms with gratitude.” George grinned.
Freya stomped away from them, throwing herself back in the arm chair and crossing her arms.
“Come on Freya.” Fred groaned, leaning on the arm of the chair “Please don’t be mad at us.”
George sat cross legged in front of the chair and smiled up at her. “We can’t have someone making you cry.”
Freya nodded, she knew they were just sticking up for her but she was tired and the Yule ball had been a huge disappointment from the moment it had been announced.
“Why did you even say yes to that git anyway.” Fred grumbled pulling a thread off his robes.
George glanced between them both, he knew the answer but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be around when Fred found out. “I’m gonna head back! Got some more dancing to do, you’ll look after Freddie, right Freya?” He didn’t even wait for an answer before jumping to his feet and hurrying out.
Fred glared after him before turning back to Freya who had seemed to start crying all over again.
“Oh, hey, please don’t cry Freya, I can’t deal with it!” Fred begged pulling her out of the chair and in to his lap. She felt so stupid, but if she was ever going to tell him it had to be now.
“I said yes to Boles because the person I wanted to go with already had a date.” She hiccuped in to his shoulder as he stroked her hair.
“Who? I can’t imagine many people not wanting to go with you. He sounds like an idiot.”
Freya laughed at how ridiculous this was “Yeah, he is an idiot.”
“Then why are you crying over him?” Fred whispered.
Freya pulled back to look at him properly, his brows were pulled down in concern. His busted lip looked sore and before she knew what she was doing she reach up to touch it gently. His breathing hitched, gulping loudly.
“He is such an idiot.” The words barely audible coming out of her mouth as she gazed at his lips, her thumb still lightly stroking them.
His hand was shaking as he lifted it, tucked a piece of hair behind her ear before cupping her chin. “A complete idiot.” He agreed, his voice hoarse as she met his gaze. He leaned towards her slowly, her stomach flipped as her eyes closed and took hold of the front of his shirt. He smelt like gunpowder and citrus and she couldn’t help the quiet moan that escaped her merely from the smell of him. She heard his breath hitch again and felt him pull her towards him before finally their lips met tenderly.
“Fred, what’re you doing.”
Fred jumped out of his skin and turned to the portrait entrance, his hand still cradling Freya’s jaw.
Angelina looked furious, George peering out behind her looking guilty.
“Tried to stop her mate, I really did.” George cringed at the sight before them.
Freya wished again that none of this had ever happened.