Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series.
Fred held Angelina's waist in one hand and her silver high heels in the other as he led her into the Gryffindor common room. The room was empty aside from the crackling fireplace and the Christmas tree in the corner. Angelina was thankful that the low light hid the sweat stains on her amethyst dress robes. Granted, Fred had seen her in much worse condition after Quidditch practice, but the Yule Ball was different. She rarely got this dolled up and wanted to stay glamorous long after it was over. Judging by her sticking dress robes and half-wilted hairdo, the wish was futile at this point.
"You can give me my shoes, back, Fred," she said as they sat on the couch.
"No way! I gotta see if my feet fit into these massive things." He held the shoes up to his eyes. "What size are you, a 44?"
"FRED!" She lunged to take the shoes out of his hand.
He pulled it away. "Come on, Chaser, reach for it!"
Angelina would have been angry if she wasn't laughing so hard. "Give 'em back!"
"Give 'em back? I ought to give these smelly things to Filch as a Yuletide present."
She playfully smacked him on the shoulder. "Shut up and gimme!"
"Oh, now we're gonna play rough here? Fine!" He sat up taller and dangled the shoes even further out of reach.
Angelina had no idea why she cared so much about those shoes. Yes, they were expensive, but she would probably never wear them again. Still, she shouted, "You give those back, Fred Weasley!" She grabbed his arms and pulled him to the floor.
Fred kept his hands above his head. "Now we're getting dirty, eh?"
Angelina smacked him on the chest.
"OW! Not like that! I meant 'dirty' as in we're getting covered in dust bunnies here!" He turned his head and spat dramatically.
Angelina laughed at his stupid pun. "Just give me back my shoes, please?"
Fred sighed and dropped the shoes behind his head. They landed under the Christmas tree. "Fine. Since you asked so politely."
"Thank you." she leaned over him for the shoes, but never quite made it. Fred had wrapped his arms around her back and kissed her with such a passion she never thought the funny man had. Sighing, she sank on top of his body and rolled him onto his side so she could fully embrace him. Feverish lips and shy, curious tongues worked cautiously and furiously under the glowing fire. They were quickly becoming uncomfortably hot, but neither of them complained. The only sound to escape their embracing lips was the occasional breath and soft moan.
And as quickly as they started, they stopped, Angelina's lower lip gently caught between Fred's teeth before they broke apart. They stared at each other, panting and sweaty. Angelina's dress clung awkwardly to her waist and her hair was completely down.
"Where—where did you learn to kiss like that?" Angelina said, trying to catch her breath.
Fred had pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and was dabbing his face with it. He looked up, winked at her, and said, "You. I've been saving all this for you."
"Bull. I don't believe it." She stood up, brushed off her dress, and coldly walked towards the stairs of her dormitory.
"Ange, what are you doing?" Fred sprang up and stood in front of her, blocking the entrance.
Angelina sighed bitterly. "You know, it's one thing for me to take a hapless goof to the Yule Ball, but not a pitiful liar. I know you've practiced on Alicia and Katie and all the other girls in our year before me." She tried to push through, but he stopped her with his hands.
"Ange, I swear on my Uncle Fabian's name, you're it." He didn't know how else to say it. Words began to fail him. "It. Me. You. That's all."
"I know you're joking." Her voice became caught in her throat. "Now please let me go to bed."
Fred was suddenly hysterical. "Joking? Why would I joke about something like that? It's always been you. Ever since we had our first Quidditch practice together and you laughed when I scared George off his broom, it's been you. I've waited all this time to take you to the Ball, all this time to do—" He motioned to the floor in front of the fireplace. "That. To kiss you. To hold you and to just be with you. Please, Angelina, believe me. I'm not joking this time."
Fred's eyes looked so sad and heartbroken, Angelina couldn't take it any longer. She laughed.
"Oh, it's real funny when I'm sad, huh? Now that you've—"
Angelina cupped a hand over his mouth. "Fred. Shut up. I'm joking."
"You're what?" Fred said from behind her hand.
Angelina moved her hand to the back of his neck and kissed him on the mouth. She felt a tear splash on to her cheek. "I was joking, crazy. See how it feels to be pranked all the time?"
"Aw, Ange, don't cry." He kissed the spot where his tear fell. "Heck, you deserve some sort of award for outfoxing ol' Fred Weasley. You got me at the one time I was being serious. And I was being serious. About you being 'it' and everything. Because you are, really. It. Does that even make sense?"
"Don't worry, dear, it does." She let out a mischievous giggle.
"What's so funny now?"
She yanked his tie and led him upstairs. "Come on. If you've really been saving those kisses for me—"
They had only made it up three steps before the stairs turned into a slide. Angelina screamed in surprise, and Fred caught her before she could hit the cold stone chute. She landed underneath him at the bottom of the reformed staircase. Both laughing, Angelina barely noticed that Fred's hair was tickling her cheeks.
"So, what were you were saying?"
Angelina caught her breath. "I said, if you've really been saving those kisses for me—"
Fred cut her off by kissing her deeply on the lips, his tongue replacing the words she was not able to say. "You'll see." He lifted her off the floor and carried her upstairs to his dormitory, her bare, dirty feet dangling over his arm. Her shoes lay haphazardly under the Christmas tree. They were not missed until morning.
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