That One Time I Fell In Love
(And other impossible things). Fred Weasley II finally meets his match in the form of one loud-mouthed and free-spirited, Emma Terry. [GIR World!]

Note: This is literally the fourth story I've written in this particular NextGen universe. Previous stories are:
1. 'Getting it Right' (Rose/Scorpius)
2. 'Conclusion to Getting it Right' (Rose/Scorpius) and
3. 'When James Met Libby' (James/Libby).
I'm assuming you're here because you're already familiar with GIR World, but if you wanna just dive straight in with Fremma, go ahead, welcome to hell.


Chapter 1: That one time I slept with a mummy.

(Halloween, 2029)

So like all good stories, it started with a lot of sex.

The name is Fred Weasley (THE SECOND, BITCHES) and I am awesome. No, really, hang with me and I'll show ya a good time! I like hot chicken wings on a Friday night, hot coffee and hot girls (not necessarily in that order). I will admit that I occasionally set things on fire and have once jumped out of a window onto a waiting broomstick. My dad is ginger, my mum is black, and I've got brown skin somewhere in between. Crazy also tends to run in the family. I subscribe to about six different magazines, none of which I even read, and once I broke both my legs after juggling flammable objects next to a display of explosives. I like a drink, I like meeting new people, and this is a story about that one time I fell in love.

… and, y'know, other impossible things.

Naturally, it started at a party, because where else do any good stories start? It was thrown by my best mate, James Potter, under the pretext of 'Halloween' but please, I think we all knew that it was solely for the purpose of getting to see his girlfriend in a sexy-Quidditch-player outfit. Not that he achieved that goal, seeing as Libby came dressed as a butterfly (no, I'm not kidding. Half the time I think the term 'quirky' just means 'certifiably insane' when applied to that girl) but at least the party was alive and swinging when I arrived!

I waltzed in with the bottle 'o booze in one hand and the other waving as I yelled across the party at my cousin, Rose. She grinned as she waved back, holding hands with Scorpius, despite the fact that they appeared to be literally in the middle of some argument right then (but what else was new?). The courtyard down the corridor from James and Libby's flat was decked out in flashing Christmas lights, people milling underneath the colours and leaning in close to yell over the blasting music. I squinted through the dark, barely dodging some discarded plastic chairs and snorting at the couple a few feet away who had tripped over the accumulating mass of empty bottles on the ground. I was expecting a little tail tonight, because let's face it, I'm a fucking catch, but why did it have to be so damn hard to see here? I had to know if I was about to sleep with a bloody troll or not! Thankfully, I managed to run into James on my way in. If I wasn't mistaken, his costume was apparently sexy-executioner, dressed in leather and splattered with fake blood, although it's hard to tell with him. He may have just been channelling a vintage-rock-band look.

"Seriously, Fred?" he said exasperatedly, throwing his arms out as he noticed me. "You came to this party dressed as … naked?"

"I'm not naked!" I protested at once. I gestured to my amazing costume and declared, "I'm a barbarian!"

"I can see that."

"Oi! You know what I mean," I punched him.

"Yes, well. But did you have to do it without pants?" James asked, jokingly holding up his hands to shield himself. Oh, honestly, he shouldn't be so disapproving considering that we used to be a team, James and me! We were wingmen until the end of night, partners in crime, helping each other steal food off our parents as kids, teasing our siblings and of course chasin' da ladieees. But y'know, apparently James grew up. Or whatever it is he tells me. He fell in love with Libby Fletcher a long time ago, although I guess I only just realised recently that it was the real deal. Whatever. We had a fight over it, it's over now, he can sleep with whoever he wants in my opinion. Whether that's someone different every night or the same girl over and over, so long as he's not being a whiny dick about it anymore, it's cool.

("But Freeeed, she's so hot! She's gotta like me, right? I'd like me, I'm brilliant! I'm brilliant … right?"

"James, shut the fuck up.").

Anyway.

"Hey, I've got the essentials covered," I said back to James, rolling my eyes. Yeah, maybe my costume was a little hard to find after a few drinks (kinda the point) but I looked hella fine! Not everyone can rock a loin-cloth (thank god I hear you saying … please, ladies love the rugged-scoundrel thing). As I glanced back up at James, I noticed Libby over his shoulder at the other end of the courtyard, currently by herself and leaning against the brick wall. "Oh, and if you're looking for your butterfly girl, she's over there," I added, gesturing over to her.

James glanced back before grinning and saying, "Thanks! Though I did actually want to talk to you for a moment. If you happen to see a woman at this party wrapped entirely in bandages, do me a favour and spill your drink all over her?"

"Ah," I said seriously. "scaring off a crazy, right?"

"Uh … yeah!" James grinned. "Let's go with that! Thanks, mate!"

I didn't quite catch what he meant by that before he turned and ran off through the crowd towards Libby. I just shrugged and was about to turn away, but that was when I caught a glance of the two of them greeting each other. James and I don't really talk about his relationship with Libby much, mainly because we have such conflicting views on the idea that we really don't want to get into it anymore. It's all been said and done now, anyway. But I folded my arms with a snort as I watched him approached her. He leaned against the courtyard wall next to her, barely even touching except for a hand reaching out and caressing hers just for a moment. His stupid grin matched her tough smile.

Jesus, could they be more ridiculously in love with each other? James, you bloody dork.

Weeeelp, time to scope out the party! Keeping an eye out for any women wrapped in bandages, I took a shot of the tequila in my hand. Naturally, I didn't expect the first girl I talked to that night to also be my cousin, but there's no denying Rose Weasley's head of crazy red curls.

"… challenging your inner Lily, I see?" she laughed as I approached.

"What, this old thing?" I asked, raising the bottle. "Some girl left it in my fridge, figured I couldn't let it go to waste. Got anything to chase it with?"

"Naturally," Rose said. "I think there's some pumpkin juice somewhere …"

"On second thoughts," I added, screwing up my face. "I may just take it straight."

"I'll help," Scorpius joined our conversation. He was rubbing his forehead warily, now leaning an elbow on Rose's shoulder. Both of their costumes matched in some old-timey fashioned way. I think they were trying to channel their inner William Shakespeare (not that I know who that is or anything).

"Scorpius! How's it going?"

"A goddamned nightmare. Give me that –"

I snorted, handing over the tequila. Rose just scoffed as he took a shot. "It wouldn't be so bad if this one didn't spend half the night writing his overdue reports," she explained as Scorpius shivered and handed the bottle back to me. "Honestly–"

"You know I'm under a lot of stress!"

"That's what you get when you spend the better part of your work day coming up with slogans for your next conference rather than actually working!" Rose mentioned lightly. Scorpius pulled a face at her before kissing the side of her head.

"It's technically still work."

"It's technically still making you a whiny bitch when you come home."

"I resent that!"

"You legit told me that your next slogan is going to be 'Muggles before puddles … of DESTRUCTION'!" Rose said exasperatedly.

Scorpius screwed up his nose. "Ok, yeah, I have no excuses. I fail as a human being."

"Yes, you do," Rose smiled. She softly kissed his cheek before adding, "you succeed at being Scorpius, though."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"Why the hell am I still talking to you two?" I asked in amazement.

"You know you love us!" Rose grinned. "Nice costume, by the way, I think it's the bones in your hair that really pull it off."

I reached up and tugged on one of the chicken bones that I was now super glad I hadn't been bothered throwing away earlier in the day. They got stuck in my dark, curly hair really well! Along with the loincloth and fake bloody rags tied around my arms, I was rockin' the perfect bod. Girls legit couldn't resist all this, hell, even some blokes too! I mean, sometimes it really pays to be not that fussy like myself.

"Ah, y'know. I always like to make an effort for you birds."

"Anyone you got your eye on?" Rose smirked.

"Nah, but James mentioned a crazy ex-girlfriend of his, asked me to scare her off for him," I said, glancing around the party. "I swear, if it's that fucking Diana girl again asking to shave his back for her, I'm not going there! James seriously needs to start reconsidering who he lets into the building."

"Do we even want to know?" Scorpius asked.

"James asked me to distract her," I shrugged. "Thought I'd help a mate out, but she turned out to be a right weirdo. Luckily she didn't get obsessed with me as well. I have enough stalkers to last a lifetime."

"On that note," Rose drained the last of her own drink. "I need another. See you around, ok, Fred?"

"Sound – hope you don't kill yourself, Scorpius!"

"You get me," Scorpius said, pointing back at me with a grin as Rose tugged him off.

Once Rose and Scorpius disappeared off into the vastly-growing crowd, I moved on to talking to a random mate of James' that I'd gotten to kinda know at the amount of these shindigs we throw. I know you'll think it's weird, but I swear I actually have fun talking to loads of different people! No one ever believes me when I say that I don't really have friends.

"But you must have people you see on a regular basis!" they always argue.

"Yeah, but they're my cousins," I shrug. "they have to see me."

"Doesn't that count?"

Nah, not really, at least not in my eyes. I've got James and he was all I needed, despite the fact that even our best-friendship-since-toddlerhood had taken a few hits recently. So stop trying to force a few close friends on me, I like it this way! I like being able to just go and talk to anyone, I liked meeting new people and I certainly liked how there wasn't this huge expectation to be a particular kind of person with someone. When you're actually friends with someone, they get to know you, you can't hide a single thing and it's kind of my bloody nightmare. When you're with someone new … you didn't have to be yourself, if you didn't want to. You didn't have to be a nice person if you'd had a bad day and all you wanted was some loud and angry sex to deal with it. When you're talking to someone new, you could be whoever the hell you wanted! Like tonight, I was FRED THE BARBARIAN!

It was about midnight when I spotted her.

The girl looked roughly my age and I would've noticed her straight away, even without the costume, considering how much hair she had. It was thick, light golden brown and curly, almost to the point where it was so frizzy that it literally defied gravity. She had tied a bandage around her head, and her long-sleeved top and white jeans were draped in even more bandages. A mummy. And a kinda hot mummy, at that.

Huh. I didn't recognise her as an ex. Must've been one of those insane ones back from the early days when the both of us literally just about fucked anyone. James seriously needs to invest in a doorman, or something.

She was talking to another girl I didn't recognise and yeah, she was pretty damn attractive, even with nearly all her skin covered. I could hear her voice from over here and could tell straight away that she was definitely a native Londoner. She was a little curvy and that hair was kind of nutty, but she had a cute smile and when she and her friend quickly turned around, laughing as they glanced over their shoulders and apparently avoiding someone, I noticed that arse in those jeans. Blimey!

Too bad she was crazy, but this could be fun.

"Hey!" I skidded in next to the two girls, pressing my shoulder to the crazy mummy and glancing around conspiratory. "Who're we hiding from, huh?"

Her friend gave me a weird look (ok, this tactic only works like, 60% of the time) but the girl snorted with laughter.

"Our friend!" she explained. "We may or may not have stolen some of her alcohol and we're hoping she don't find us."

"What happened to your alcohol?" I asked.

She grinned right on back. "We drank it."

Yep! I could do this girl.

"Cheers to that," I told her, lifting my tequila. She clinked it with her own bottle, her friend just shaking her head and following suit. We straightened up when it became clear that the friend they'd stolen from had moved on past and to help a mate out (James, you better fucking love me) I decided to use the excuse of tripping while moving to spill her cheap beer all over her. Only, before I could even fake-move, the girl was suddenly shoved from behind and the cheap beer ended up being thrown in my face instead.

"Oh my god!" both girls shrieked with laughter as I yelped. "Oh my god, I'm so – so sorry!"

"Yeah, you're really broken up about it," I grumbled, wiping beer out of my eyes. What was with this girl?

"Oh, well," the girl just grinned. "At least you don't have to worry about it staining your costume … no, seriously, I can't believe that just happened, I am so sorry …"

"Forget about it. You're right, I don't really have much of a costume?" I glanced down innocently at my beer-splattered body.

"Oh, no!" the girl shook her head, eyeing me. "It's a great costume, honestly! You're a cave-man, right?"

"Barbarian, but who's taking notice?"

"Certainly not me," the girl smirked.

"My name's Fred, by the way."

"Fred?" the girl's eyes widened in recognition, which was weird, seeing as I'd never ever met her before. "You're James' mate?"

"You know about me?"

"I think he's mentioned ya once or twice," the girl answered. "Oh, I'm Emma, just puttin' it out there."

"Well, Emma, I didn't think you'd be talking to James that much anymore," I admitted, starting to get a little confused.

"What d'you mean?" Emma laughed in about as much confusion as I probably felt. "I only met him like, a couple of weeks ago!"

"Couple of weeks – ok, so you're not an ex-girlfriend, then?"

"Of James?" Emma scoffed. "HELLLL no! I work with Libby, that's how we met, James is a mate of mine!"

"That little bastard …" I grumbled under my breath. I don't know what kind of fucking prank he was trying to pull, but I'd somehow been reduced to a blundering eejit in front of this hot girl thanks to him!

"Don't tell me," Emma snorted. "he sent you over here to get back at me?"

"Why would he do that?"

"I dunno, maybe his paralyzing fear of the undead?"

"Oh, yeah. The zombie thing," I muttered. "They freak him out."

"I dressed like a mummy on purpose," Emma smirked. "Gotta install some fibre in that bloke somehow!"

For a moment, I just stared at this girl called Emma, who had somehow gotten beer spilled all over me, had a cheeky grin and flirted like there was no tomorrow. She was James' friend. She worked with Libby. She was hot, she probably had a boyfriend or something. Despite how promising this first interaction of ours seemed to be going, I realised that she was the last person in the world I should be trying to take home.

"So, Emma. Wanna get out of here?"


BAM! So that's how it happened!

Well, the first time anyway.

It was a little bizarre. She tripped over my umbrella stand and we left a lamp on ("I can't see a damned thing and do you WANT me to fall over that thing again?"). She kissed like a sailor, rough and a little uneasy, but experienced, like she knew exactly how she liked it and wasn't messing about. Her jeans turned out to be so tight that she couldn't get them off herself and she collapsed back onto my bed in annoyance, waving her feet in the air and asking, "Help a girl out, huh?" Her hair was kind of ridiculous and got in the way, but she seemed to like it when I tangled my fingers in it. She managed to get her hands in my pants, but we didn't really mess around. We mostly got straight to it.

And. It. Was. Phenomenal.

It was only once we had utterly collapsed, tangled up in a bizarre mix of limbs and Halloween costumes, that I realised that this was the first time in ages that I'd almost completely skipped the foreplay. I've had my share of hard-and-fast fucks against the club wall, because let's face it, sometimes you can't afford to be picky, but I'd admittedly never cared much for them. So I'm the guy who likes to take his time! What, is that a crime? Emma pushed back her mane of hair before catching my eye. Then, she let out what sounded like a nervous giggle and hid her face in her hands.

"What?" I asked.

"Oh my god," she muttered without looking up. "I am nuts. I legit just slept with a Weasley!"

"Yeah, well, we're a crazy bunch," I said, dryly.

She giggled again, but kept her face hidden. I glanced down at her curiously. Who the hell was this woman? Just several mind-shattering moments ago, she was scalding hands and rough lips in all the right places! Now, there was a kind of nervous energy around her. I didn't have a clue why. The woman kind of had skilllllls, if you know what I … fuck it, you know what I mean. I wondered whether she maybe didn't do this sort of thing that often, so I lifted the arm that was currently trapped underneath her and lazily caressed her side. It seemed to relax her as she gave a muffled and contented sigh, letting her hands slide away from her face.

"Did you happen to notice that we were both really quite good back there?"

Emma just snorted, glancing over to throw me a look. "Whatever, you did all the work."

"Give yourself credit, girl," I insisted. "No, really, you got creative! Totally nailed it … no pun intended, I swear."

Emma ended up snorting with laughter anyway, hiding her eyes again as she rolled away from me. She had a weird, infectious laugh that stuck in your head. Actually, when I thought about it, pretty much all of her was weird and infectious. I hadn't been kidding when I'd told her she had skills, despite whatever she might think of herself (you don't handle a bloke's dick like that without having at least a little sass in you, fucking Jesus) and the night was still young … seemed a shame to waste it.

"So … round two?"

Emma just turned and glanced at me.

"Does that mean it's my turn this time?" she asked.

Oh, yeah. It was a party down there.

"Let's go to town, Emma."


So seriously, that's how this entire thing started! A crazy, wild one-night stand that began and ended in the usual way: not stopping at round one (or two), passing out due to sheer exhaustion sometime in the night and waking up the next morning with only slight awkwardness and not much said apart from inquiries into whether she needed to use the fireplace to get home or not. You know, I had been all prepared to be mad at James for using me to do his dirty work for him, but if this was what I got out of it, I didn't think I was going to mind so much! It may have occurred to me at one point that yeah, maybe sleeping with her PROBABLY wasn't the best idea; she was mates with Libby, and lord help us all if that woman got angry! But shit, who the hell cared? Emma got a good shag out of it, the reality was that if she told Libby like any friend would, it would just be to say what a great lay I was and what a rockin' bod I had! There was literally nothing bad about this, right?

RIGHT?

Wrong.

I discovered quite harshly what the one thing that was wrong with this hare-brained idea was roughly one week later. See, I know it may surprise you (because of course I am a man of many, many talents) but I am not exactly what one would call frugally-adept. In other words … I don't know how the fuck tax returns worked. I barely even knew how money worked, unless it was to buy a new sofa or plastic flamingo (and noooo, I don't own one of those). Either way, my dad had placed me in charge of the shop's finances because apparently, we haven't hired someone else to do that and he thought it would be, and I quote, "Good for you, you little shit! Now stop complaining and value our revenue!" After much hair pulling and crying to Verity who knew about accounting as much as I did, I eventually resigned myself to having go to Gringotts.

Goblins are not a particularly friendly bunch, let me tell you!

"… what do you mean, we HAVE to do this now!" I was yelling at the short and stocky-looking goblin behind the counter. He was gritting his teeth and glaring at me, refusing to back down on his 'no rocking up without an appointment' policy. I swear, this guy was in the secret Magical CIA at some point. "If I don't get this done today, we miss the due date for this financial year!"

"Well, you should have thought about that before you came in," the goblin practically spat at me.

"Look here mate, I've been trying to figure this out on my own all day!" I cried, slamming my fist down on the counter, various tax papers fluttering. "I'm about to kill myself over it and I haven't waited in line for over an hour just to have you tell me no–"

"Sir, you have no ID, no proof of address, no proof that you are the accountant of this business," the goblin glared. "It's our policy to protect against potentially fraudulent scams."

"IT'S FUCKING WEASLEY'S WIZARDS WHEEZES!" I lost it.

"Forgive me when I say you don't look like a Weasley."

"MY MUM IS BLACK, I DON'T CONTROL GENETICS!" I roared. "I've been working at that shop my whole life! Just because I don't have my Apparition Licence on me–"

"Or proof of address," I swear to god, that fucking Goblin SMIRKED at me. "Or proof of employment."

I silently seethed at him for what felt like a good five minutes, unable to come up with a counter argument to this. Eventually, the goblin waved behind him at what looked like a security officer before turning back to me and saying straight to my face,

"NEXT."

That little fucker.

I swept all the accounts back into my arms, fuming under my breath about fucking goblins and how I may or may not be considering kidnapping them all and hurling them off a very tall cliff. Everyone standing in the line stared at me and I stared right on back because I couldn't give a damn what they thought! One woman was daring to give me a disapporoving look and I threw her one hell of a fucking glare back. Judge all you want, lady! GRINGOTTS COULD SUCK IT –

Oh, god.

That's when I saw her.

She wore what looked like a well-worn denim jacket over a shirt-and-tie uniform. A set of robes were half-stuffed inside the bag that she carried over her shoulder. A Cursebreaker, obviously off shift and heading home after work. I had already caught her eye and glared at her too, before I realised that I was staring straight into the face of Emma.

SHIT.

Normally, I avoided girls I'd been with like the plague. It was a bloody no-brainer, a sort of unspoken rule of mine and James' back from the day and I'd just continued it, even after he'd gone off with Libby. Never see them again. If you see them again, there's potential for it to become something. You don't want to risk the something! It wasn't often I ran into anyone I'd ever been with anyway, and I realised now, in that one moment of accidentally catching Emma's eye, it was because I always made sure to get off with someone I didn't know at all. Someone with no connections to me, or anyone else I knew. Someone I was bound run into again only on a one in a million chance. Like that actress once who flew in for the weekend (well, she claims she was an actress, lord knows she was probably in one underground stage play and that was it), or the Spanish girl who was sight-seeing and could only speak enough English to literally string together the sentence, "Sex me, I consent!" I realised now, far too late, that sleeping with Emma had been a RIDICULOUSLY BAD IDEA™ (yes, capitals needed).

"Fred!" Emma said in surprise.

"Shit, Emma!" I skidded to a halt. "I didn't mean to–"

"What're you doing here?" she asked, a hasty smile on her face. She was clearly trying very hard not to make it awkward, which I did appreciate, but quite honestly, with the day I was having, I was ready to fucking snap something!

"I – I'm not allowed to use the bank?" I asked.

Emma grinned. "I thought it was you yelling at poor Bodorock over there. Bad day?"

"Oh, no," I rolled my eyes. "Just ol' Bodo and I catching up, we're actually quite good mates."

"Go on," Emma said. "What's up?"

Remember RIDICULOUSLY BAD IDEA™? Yeah, I certainly didn't. Because if I had, I would've blown her off by now and been on my merry way to go drown my headache with a good Firewhiskey. But Emma, bless her, was trying so hard to get through this unintentional meeting with minimal damage and quite honestly, I blame frustration, the lack of a sensible drink in me and the fact that I could still picture that body of hers underneath that uniform … damn, the uniform.

So I answered her.

"I got stuck with accounting duty when I know fuck all about it," I admitted, gesturing half-heartedly to the stack of crumpled up accounts in my arms. "Bodo over there wouldn't help me without ID, which naturally, I forgot. I was just about to go plot his demise while crying over a Firewhiskey."

"So, a bit of a rough day then?"

"A bit, yeah," I rolled my eyes and Emma was clearly trying to supress the fact that she was laughing. Somehow, we ended up falling into a pace with each other, leaving the bank for the cobblestone street of Diagon Alley outside. I could see the shop even from here far down the street, the windows currently exploding and crackling with their displays of a new brand of fireworks.

"Well, I wish I could help you," Emma told me as we casually walked down the street. "but accounting isn't really my department."

"No, your department is hunting down precious jewels and fighting mummies," I said.

Emma snorted. "Is that really what people think we do? Seriously, I'd say about 80% of my job is staring at old, dead things!"

"What's the other 20%?"

"What else?" Emma shrugged. "Paperwork."

"Ah, paperwork," I sighed. "Normally when that season rolls around the office I manage to keep myself from being bored to death by imaging some rather creative things I could do with my desk."

"Oh, really?" Emma sent me a side-long glance. "Any moves in particular?"


SLAM.

"Ow, fuck – I think you just cracked my head–" Emma hissed.

"Shhhh, you're fine–" I kissed her again, kneading the tender skin on the back of her head that I may or may not have just accidentally slammed into my bedroom door. "–it's not great sex unless someone gets a little hurt, right?"

I think she tried to answer, but all she got out was, "Mmmmfpt," as she caressed my tongue with her own.

We shut up talking then. I can barely even tell you how we got here shoved up against my bedroom door. One second she was eye-fucking me in the middle of goddamned Diagon Alley (honestly) and the next BAM, we were in my flat. I remembered her mouth from last time and it was currently doing incredible things to my lips. It was enough to make me fumble as I pulled her away from the door, continuing to kiss her furiously as I wrenched the tie off from around her neck. She gave a strangled noise in the back of her throat as I thrust a knee between hers and let us fall back onto my bed. The answer is NO, I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. I'd already slept with this girl! It supposed to be time to cut my losses and run the hell outta there! I had certainly never slept with the same woman twice in my entire life. But blame it on the headache, blame it on the rough day I'd had, blame it on Emma's dorky smile and the way she had flushed at my ridiculous office fantasy which I'll admit I'd used her face for once since Halloween …

Later, when there were significantly less clothes between us and I had my face between her legs, she actually told me,

"So once is an accident, but does twice make this a thing?"

I looked up in confusion. "You wanna talk about this now?"

"What, no!" Emma yanked on my hair. Jesus, I get the message, princess. "I mean – blimey – I was talking out loud."

I gave a non-committal sort of sound, seeing as my mouth really was otherwise occupied.

"Well, I mean …" Emma hissed slightly, hand flexing in my hair. "I've been told about you, I know you get around and stuff – oh–"

"Yeah, well," I grunted. "I can't imagine you haven't been around either–"

"Get it, get it," Emma hastily cut over me. "Admittedly I don't normally do the casual thing, but – yes, shit, oh my godddd – I've got enough experience to know when sex is amazing–"

"Your point?" I squeezed her hip.

Emma snorted, although it quickly turned into a groan. "All – all I'm saying is that we'retoogoodtoneverdothisagain!" she got out all in one quick breath. "This is just – just–"

I held up a finger, asking her to wait a moment. She did so gladly as I got to work and it was within in the next minute that I had her writhing and moaning under me. I grinned in triumph as she clawed her hands down my body, hauling me up towards her so that she could plant a kiss square on my lips.

"… you were saying something about sex?" I mentioned.

"It literally cannot stop here," Emma nodded, still breathing heavily.

"Who said anything about stopping?" I raised an eyebrow at her.

She breathed, "Thank god," before promptly flipping me over.

I could get used to this.


If you don't really know me, then it might just be impossible to explain how I felt about sleeping with the same girl twice. See, I know it'll come as a shocker, but I don't do love. I don't do relationships and I certainly don't do sleeping with the same person. I get in and get out! (Not that fast, shut up). I fuck 'em and move on, hoping to never see them again. It was something that James and I had agreed on once we'd left Hogwarts castle one summer night over a Firewhiskey (or six).

"I'm serious, I don't ever want a relationship," eighteen-year-old drunk me had told him.

"Amen to that!" my best friend had cried in agreement. "It only messes with your head."

"You get me!" I'd said. "Mate, let's just not go there, like ever."

"Ever, ever?" James had asked, looking a little put out. "But what about sex?"

"We can have sex!" I had told him. "Just no relationships."

James had very quickly agreed with me, claiming that he was in and that he wasn't all that bothered with relationships anyway and noooo, I don't think I'll change my mind … yeah, so clearly that one didn't turn out as planned. And I wasn't mad at him anymore for deciding to take a chance and leap into it with Libby. Those two worked, in a weird way, and if it wasn't affecting me then they were free to do whatever they damn well pleased. So long as I could still fuck around, I was happy! So I did and was and still am. Ever since my first one-night stand as a still slightly awkward seventeen-year-old having literally just graduated school a week ago (I still remember Nadine, I don't think she'll ever forgive me for biting her like that) I'd been this way.

Unless you get that, you don't understand what I was thinking when I slept with Emma again.

For a moment, I just totally and completely panicked. I had managed to put up a front and stayed all chatty and la, la, la when she was here, but as soon as she'd Flooed back home, her tie shoved in her pocket and shirt hastily buttoned, I think I may have given a strangled yell before curling up on the floor and rocking back and forth. Nothing good could come of this! I slept with her twice! TWICE, I TELL YOU! I was positively in love with her already, I KNEW IT! She'd left with some cheeky comment about seeing me again, but it couldn't happen, it couldn't happen. What the hell had I been THINKING?

WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST DO?!

But, eventually, I had calmed down. Relax, mate. You've lived 25 years without falling in love once! Just because Emma rocked on into your life more than once and kind of blew your mind doesn't mean it's going to suddenly happen now. Admittedly, the sex was good with her, but so had a lot of others I'd been with. It wasn't like she was the best I'd ever had or anything …

It was just sex.

Just sex.

I kept telling myself that as I hung around Gringotts bank about a week later, waiting for the shift end, hands shoved in my pockets and trying to not look like a total creeper.

It's just sex, I kept saying when she noticed me and grinned.

IT'S JUST SEX.


A/N: Hi yall, so this is me, officially out of control.

Apparently, Fremma are back (BITCHES), ready to get into all sorts of hijinks and make our lives hell. The fact that I'm even committing to posting this is utterly terrifying, but quite frankly, my trash son Fred deserves his story being told, so … here I am!

For those who have found themselves clicking on this by accident, yes, this is in fact the fourth story in a series, though you probably don't have to have read the other stories to understand this. For reference's sake, the Halloween party from James' POV is in chapter 27 of When James Met Libby. :)

Also, for anyone who actually cares about my life, yes I left New Zealand about a year ago now and after some time frolicking on Cali beaches (JK, in reality, I spent a majority of my time in the US trying to teach kids how to sail and getting very drunk, lol), I now live in England. While I'm better with the homesickness these days, I'm still currently a delicate and fragile human being at the moment, so please send me love and alcohol kthankz. x

Anyway! You dear amazing people, if you're even still with me, please comment and let me know if I've actually gone crazy.

I LOVE YOU ALL!
Moon. Xoxo