Archive of Our Own ^beta

──── ⋆｡⊹ 𖤓 ⊹｡⋆ ────

Fred Weasley was, without a doubt, the luckiest bloke in existence. The last few years felt like he’d been microdosing Felix Felicis, because everything seemed to be going swimmingly. More than swimmingly, actually.

Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was thriving. To the extent that they’d expanded to three other locations and had hired a fully-staffed roster of employees, so they could focus their attention on creating new product lines. It was everything they’d dreamed it would be when they’d first had the idea to open up their very own joke shop.

Through it all, he’d had luck on his side. Hell, he’d managed to survive a fucking war—with both his ears, no less—and had built a booming business with his twin, but his biggest source of luck wasn’t any of that. It was the witch currently writhing in his lap like a lit firecracker about to explode.

Pansy Parkinson.

He didn’t know which of the old gods he needed to thank for the fact that he got to taste her cherry-sweet lips daily, but he’d pray to each and every one of them to ensure it continued. They’d been seeing each other for close to six months now, after a chance encounter in Diagon Alley had brought them together. He’d been in desperate need of some specialty herbs for their newest line of color-changing products, and she happened to own the only apothecary in a hundred-kilometre radius that sold them. 

Fred had no idea what he’d said to her that day in her shop, or if he’d made a bloody fool of himself like he feared he had—all he knew was he’d left with the heavily discounted herbs and a date for the following evening.

It started with no expectations or messy strings. Both of them held chaotic hours with their respective businesses, so a sneaky shag now and then seemed perfect. They’d even agreed to keep their dalliance a secret to avoid any undue influence from their meddling friends and family.

It had worked seamlessly for months. Quick trysts in the afternoon. A night of passion at one of their respective flats before sneaking out under the cover of darkness. It was fun, thrilling, and above all else, casual. Then, one day, he’d looked around the flat he shared with George and realised her presence was everywhere.

First, it was a stray tube of lipstick left on the edge of the sink, in a shade of bright red that had him imagining the filthy possibilities. It was easy enough to tidy up before George inevitably stumbled upon it. 

Then, he started finding various articles of clothing strewn about haphazardly. That, thankfully, was simple to hide given that it tended to be contained to his bedroom, where they spent the majority of their time together. 

The fancy food she’d started storing in their cupboards, however, was a bit harder to conceal. When George had finally questioned why they suddenly had overpriced loose-leaf tea and actual vegetables in their usually barren pantry, Fred had rambled on about how Mum thought they were starving bachelors and had taken matters into her own hands to ensure they didn’t waste away.

It was a believable lie. Molly Weasley was constantly fretting over her children’s well-being. George had bought it, but the suspicious narrowing of his twin’s eyes didn’t bode well for Fred and Pansy’s continued ruse. If only the blasted witch would learn to pick up after herself, he wouldn’t have to follow along behind her in a frazzled panic searching for the things she'd forgotten.

As of late, Pansy had been exceedingly nonchalant about keeping their relationship under wraps, and Fred wanted to pull his hair out about it. If he didn’t know any better—and Merlin, he wasn’t sure that he did—he’d swear she wanted to get caught.

The frustrating witch tapped his cheek with one bright red nail to regain his attention. Seeing his obvious distraction, she raised a questioning brow. “What is it?”

Fred smiled, dismissing her worry. “Nothing at all.”

“Then why aren’t you kissing me?”

“Because you’re all the way over there.” He playfully tugged her closer on his lap until she pitched forward against his chest with a breathless laugh.

Kissing her cheek and neck while she continued to giggle, he was determined to push thoughts of their sneaking around out of his head and relegate them to truly being nothing of concern. When his mouth was a hair’s breadth away from hers, she suddenly leaned back, her eyes narrowing sceptically.

Pansy pressed her palms firmly to his chest, halting his lusty advances. “I don’t buy it. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

His head fell back on the sofa. “It’s just…are you happy with this? Us?”

“Of course, baby.” She threaded her hands through his floppy hair, dragging her nails along his scalp in a comforting massage. Bending down to give him a quick kiss, she whispered against his lips, “I thought we were having fun together. Right?”

Fred looked up at her with a fond smile. “We definitely have our share of fun, but I meant the secrecy. Sneaking out in the middle of the night. The hiding.” 

Her expression wilted like a flower in the sweltering summer heat, and he knew his earlier suspicions had been true. She was trying to get caught. He cupped her face in one hand and ran his thumb across her kiss-swollen lips, which had dipped into an adorable moue.

Pansy kissed his thumb before answering him, “Think of how much more fun we’d have if I could stay the night.” She turned to whisper in his ear, and the strands of her shoulder-length raven hair tickled his neck. “Imagine the possibilities. Me waking you up with my lips wrapped around your cock. I can guarantee it would be better than any dream you’ve ever had, baby. Don’t you want that?”

He groaned, his hands tightening around her hips reflexively. “You make an excellent point, but I thought we agreed to keep a low profile?”

She shrugged. “We did, but have you seen these dreadful bags under my eyes from all the disruption to my usual sleep schedule? It’s not cute, Fred.”

He knew he shouldn’t laugh, but it was hard not to when she was so put out about the smallest details.

“Bags? I don’t see any of those. Just your gorgeous face as usual.” He smirked.

She pursed her lips, trying and failing not to smile. “You’re such a charmer, Fred Weasley.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Just for that, you’ve earned yourself a messy blowjob.” She pressed her lips to his.

“Fantastic.”

“But only if we tell everyone about us.”

Fred winced, imagining having to tell George about the secret he’d been keeping for six whole months—let alone the entire Weasley clan. “Do we have to?”

She hummed, her teeth digging into the soft flesh of her lip as she contemplated her next words. “What can I do to sweeten the deal for you, hm?”

Her hands drifted to the neckline of her airy summer sundress. The red of her nails caught his eye as she trailed them teasingly along the edge of the fabric from her shoulders to the centre of her chest, where the bust was tied shut in a tempting little bow. Pansy toyed with the dangling strings, and his mouth watered seeing how the low neckline framed her breasts.

He could see a glimpse of cleavage, but wanted to discover what color lingerie was hidden underneath. Perhaps it would be a peachy pink, so close to the colour of her skin that she’d look nude. Or maybe she’d chosen red to match her nails and the tiny cherries printed on her dress.

“It sure is hot today, don’t you agree?” she purred.

With one hand, she fanned her face theatrically, nearly panting, while the other tugged the string holding her dress together. Her movements were slow, unhurried, like she’d cast a subtle Impedimenta over herself to draw out the moment, knowing it would tease him.

“Yes,” Fred coughed. His throat was suddenly dry for some unknown reason. “D-Dreadfully hot.”

Pansy smirked in triumph. “Perhaps I should remove my dress to cool off a bit.”

“E-Excellent plan,” he stammered, visibly gulping.

As he watched with rapt attention, she pulled the length of the string further, unraveling the bow with ease before loosening the fabric containing her bust. She danced her fingers along the swell of one breast, her skin glistening with a slight sheen of sweat from the hazy heat suffusing the room.

She was right. It was hot today, but it had little to do with the temperature outside and more to do with the fiery heat radiating from the wily temptress sitting on his lap.

Merlin, he needed a cold shower—and a less restrictive pair of trousers.

Pansy leaned close to lick across his lips. “Don’t you want to be a good boy and come clean? It must be so difficult keeping a secret for this long.”

Fred shook his head, trying to clear the lust currently fogging his brain. “Um, tell who…what?”

Her tinkling laugh echoed through the space, throwing him deeper into her thrall. “Is my baby a little distracted right now?”

He nodded mutely, sure he was about to swallow his tongue from her little performance. He tried to capture her lips, closing the space between them, but Pansy retreated until she stood before him, her dress half undone like one of his filthiest wet dreams come to life.

“Ah, ah.” She wagged her finger at him scoldingly. “Patience.”

Pansy shrugged the dress off her shoulders, allowing it to pool at her waist, and Fred thought he’d lose his mind completely.

Red.

She’d chosen red lingerie to match the cherries on her dress. Godric help him, but he was unreasonably jealous of the sheer crimson lace for cupping her breasts when he desperately wanted the job for himself.

“Like what you see?” Pansy caressed her curves. Her fingers dipped beneath the lacy cups, teasing him with a peek of the creamy skin beneath before covering herself again. “You could see more of it, if only you’d tell them about us.”

Again, he nodded silently, not a single thought left his brain. 

“Don’t you want to undress me in the evenings—” She pushed the ruched fabric down her legs until it was a shapeless pile on the floor at her feet, kind of like him at the moment. Then, her hands moved to the clasp of her bra, her tits bouncing free of the confining lace. “—and then help me redress the next morning?”

Without waiting for his answer, she spun slowly on her heels to present him with her barely covered bum. Her arsecheeks jiggled from the movement, nothing but a thin strand of crimson lace disappearing between them. 

“Merlin, Pansy, you’re a vision. Absolutely stunning.”

There. He’d said actual words. Fred mentally patted himself on the back for the miraculous feat.

“I know.” She threw the words over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling like the vixen she was.

Without breaking eye contact, she inched the red thong over the globes of her arse, bending at the waist to remove the tantalising scrap of fabric. The movement gave him a peek at the heaven between her thighs before she stood to face him again.

His need was now at critical mass, and if he didn’t get inside her soon, it would be curtains for him and his manhood. As soon as she was within reach, he yanked her into his lap and pounced, his mouth roving over the expanse of her soft, warm skin.

“You drive me completely wild, woman. I hope you know that.” His tone was accusing, but he didn’t care. Pansy could rile him up any day of the week, and he’d thank her kindly for it, too.

“The feeling is entirely mutual, baby.” She swiveled her hips against his straining erection, gasping at the friction where his trousers met her delicate skin. “Every time I have to sneak away in the middle of the night. Every time I have to duck around a corner to not be caught with you. It makes me a little crazy, Fred.”

His lips kissed across her breasts, trying to soothe the hellcat in his arms. “I know. I’ll tell them soon, love.”

“Honestly, I don’t know how George hasn’t figured it out already. It’s not as if either of you would ever drink a loose-leaf assam blend from Fortnum & Mason. You’d much prefer whatever drivel you happen to stumble upon from the arse-end of Grimsby.”

“Please, can we not discuss my brother or his tea habits while your luscious tits are smothering me?” He heaved an irritated breath against the skin of her breasts before taking one hard nipple between his teeth in retribution.

“Hmm,” she hummed thoughtfully. “You know…”

“No. Absolutely not, Pansy.” He bit down hard enough to make her gasp. “I don’t share.”

Pansy dragged him away from his prize to give him a heated look. “Good, because neither do I.” She pulled him in for a searing kiss, her tongue delving into his mouth, staking her claim on him.

Her fingers finally began undoing the button of his trousers—bless her—when they heard footsteps on the stairs connecting the flat and the shop below.

“Shit. You need to go, Pansy. Now.” He gave her a panicked yet remorseful look before tacking on a helpless plea. “Please.”

“But—” she whined.

He hissed out a frantic whisper, “I’ll tell him. I will. But not right now, and not with you naked in my lap. Hurry! Take the floo.” 

Fred lifted her unceremoniously from his lap, readjusting his tight trousers in the process while she gathered her discarded clothing. He herded her toward the fireplace, and she glared at him. If he weren’t so rattled at the thought of being caught, he’d have found the expression incredibly arousing.

“You owe me for this, Fred Weasley.” Pansy pointed a demanding finger at him, her ire clear on her face.

She grabbed a pinch of floo powder and threw it into the flames, still naked and clutching her bundle of clothing to her exposed chest. The green flames took her away, her scathing stare the last he saw of her before she disappeared. He knew he’d have some serious groveling to do the next time he saw her.

He lay down on the sofa, gathering his wits and trying to appear as if he’d been taking an afternoon nap. Stretching out his limbs on the too-small piece of furniture, his fingers brushed across familiar lace, and he cursed under his breath.

Damned tricky witch.

The doorknob jiggled, announcing George’s imminent presence, and he hurriedly shoved the knickers she’d just happened to leave behind in between two cushions. His chest was pounding with adrenaline, his breath laboured and short.

She was going to be the death of him. He knew it.

He’d just managed to close his eyes in feigned unconsciousness when George’s voice rang out.

“Freddie! You in here?”

He affected a groggy tone, “Yeah, m’here.” Fred wiped the nonexistent sleep from his eyes. “Was taking a nap until someone started hollering and stomping about.”

George snorted, uncaring about disrupting his sleep. Prat.

“Napping in the middle of the day? Are you feeling alright, mate? You look a little flushed.”

He wiped at his sweaty brow and mumbled the first excuse that came to mind. “Must be this ungodly heatwave. Should’ve cast a cooling charm before I fell asleep. Why are you home so early? Is something wrong with the shop?”

“Nah, just wanted a quick cuppa before starting on the next round of testing on the new suncream line.” Fred could hear his twin rattling around the kitchen, preparing his afternoon tea. “You want one too?”

“Um, yeah, tea sounds…” He trailed off, his eyes going to the small table in front of the sofa where the two teacups he and Pansy had used earlier still sat. With a quick swish of his wand, he banished them, erasing the evidence of their lazy afternoon together before George could see. “Good. Yes, tea.”

“Are you sure you’re alright? Sounds like the heat has melted your brain or something, Freddie.”

Something had melted it, alright.

“I-I just woke up. I’m barely awake.” He hoped his deflection was believable. 

“Perhaps you need to lie down some more, yeah?”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll just freshen up a bit first.” He plucked at the fabric of his damp shirt. As he walked by the kitchen, he paused, trying to summon the courage to admit the truth. “Hey, I need to tell you something…”

“What is it?” George glanced up at him, kettle in hand.

“Uh…” His heart beat erratically in his chest, and his throat constricted painfully. “We’re almost out of rhampholeon saliva for the suncream. I’m pretty sure Slug & Jiggers won’t have any on hand since it’s a rare ingredient.”

He sighed, knowing that he’d taken the cowardly way out by not admitting to his relationship with Pansy, but he didn’t know what to say. Every time he thought about blurting out the truth, the words got stuck in his throat.

George shrugged, going back to making his tea. “Have you checked with Parkinson?”

Fred’s eyes went wide in alarm. “Um, what? Why would I?!”

“She helped us out of that bind last time. Figured it’s worth a shot to check if she has any in stock.”

“Oh, of course. Yeah, I can check with her tomorrow,” he replied.

“Sounds good. I’ll leave your tea on the counter before I head back. Go take a shower. You look a right mess.”

In more ways than one, he thought to himself.

Fred knew he’d be turning the dial in the shower to frigid to combat both the heat and the raging blue balls he had from a certain witch. To think he’d been so smug earlier about being the luckiest bloke in existence. He shook his head, heading for the loo, wincing when the fabric of his trousers abraded his still aching cock.

What an utter fool he was.

──── ⋆｡⊹ 𖤓 ⊹｡⋆ ────

Fred added the last of the rhampholeon saliva to the suncream he was testing. Saliva from this particular genus of chameleon was crucial for the concealment aspect of their latest jokeshop item.

The wearer had to believe it was an innocuous suncream at first. Once it had been thoroughly applied, they would turn bright red like they’d been baking in the sun for hours. It wouldn’t hurt, of course, but embarrassing phrases like ‘lobster-faced cad’ or ‘dim-witted numpty’ would be left behind within the fake sunburn. 

They were convinced it would be their next bestseller if they could figure out their supply chain issues. This batch he was currently mixing used the last of the rare saliva in their stockroom, so he’d need to contact Pansy sooner rather than later about acquiring more.

Fred was hesitant to ask her for another favour, given he’d just finished grovelling after their ill-timed make-out session in his flat last week. She’d demanded repayment for making her leave in a naked rush, and he’d enthusiastically delivered.

Multiple times. 

Pansy helping him out of his current ingredient shortage, however, was bound to cost him dearly. He was both dreading and looking forward to paying whatever cost she set. A grin lifted his face at the prospect.

As he was applying the finished suncream to the apples of his cheeks to test its efficacy, Pansy waltzed through his office door like he’d summoned her with his thoughts. She was dressed in another daringly short sundress—light blue this time—and the color contrasted amazingly with her dark hair and soulful brown eyes. Her hips swayed side to side as she approached his desk, and he knew in his gut that she did it with the sole purpose of tormenting him.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked coquettishly. 

His eyebrows winged up toward his hairline at her tone, and he leaned back in his chair with a lazy grin, folding his arms behind his head as he did. “Not at all. This is a delightful surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this fine afternoon?”

Pansy rounded the solid oak desk to perch on the edge of it near his chair. She crossed her legs, his eyes tracking the hem of her dress where it inched up her thighs with the movement. When his gaze returned to hers, she wore a knowing smirk, and he knew she’d caught him drooling over her. 

If he couldn’t ogle the gorgeous witch he was shagging, then what was the bleeding point of it all?

“You mentioned last week that you were about to run out of rhampholeon saliva. I know you want to wrap up testing so you can launch the suncream before summer is over, so I thought I’d bring over a fresh batch from the apothecary. It was delivered to me yesterday, so it should be potent enough for your needs.”

“You’re an actual goddess. Do you know that?”

She grinned. “Oh, I quite like the sound of that. It’s nothing, though. I remembered you saying you needed more, so I ordered some because I knew you’d forget to ask.”

Fred tugged her off the ledge of the desk to situate her on his lap, claiming her lips in a grateful kiss as one hand gripped her arse. “I swear I fucking lo—” He broke off with a spluttered cough, catching himself just in time. “I swear I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

There. That was sensible. Way less embarrassing than accidentally blurting out ‘I love you’ while wearing chameleon saliva on his face.

Pansy winked, carding a hand through his hair. “How much time do you have?” Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and he swallowed in anticipation.

“I could spare some time for you. What did you have in mind?”

She rose from his lap to stand in front of him before bending down for a sultry kiss. “I thought I’d give you a taste of what could be…if only you’d tell George about us.”

His mind flashed back to her suggestion of waking up together, and his cock perked up immediately. “That would be quite generous of you, Pansy. You know you don’t have to, though…” He trailed off halfheartedly, hoping she didn’t heed his altruistic words.

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. I’ve been thinking about it for days.”

“You have?”

She nodded. Her wicked grin transformed her from a pretty witch into a succubus who’d just lured her first prey, eager to suck out his very soul.

Kneeling on the ground between his outstretched legs, she methodically undid his trousers until she could easily wrap those sinful lips around his rock-hard length.

“Godric, help me,” he whimpered. “You’ve barely touched me and I’m already in danger of embarrassing myself.”

At his words, she gave him a forceful suck. Fred jolted with a rush of pleasure, his spine tingling with his rapidly approaching orgasm.

“Fuck!” he let out a barely muffled yell, distantly aware that he needed to be quiet, but not quite able to manage it.

She released his length with an obscene pop to look up at him. “Wouldn’t this be better in your own bed? Both of us naked and free to make as much noise as we please? Free to take our time? You can make it happen, baby. Just say the word.”

Pansy resumed her ministrations while Fred breathed through his nose, trying to wrangle his rapidly evaporating self-control. He’d agree to anything as long as she kept working her hot mouth over his cock. His hips twitched in an involuntary thrust, and his hand wove into her black hair, tightening his hold as his pleasure ratcheted higher with each pass of her wet tongue. 

“Freddie!”

He froze mid-thrust, the familiar voice echoing from the hallway.

Shit.

Not again.

Would murdering his twin really be such a bad thing?

Using the last brain cell he possessed, Fred regretfully pulled Pansy off his cock. He gave her a stern look to be quiet and moved his chair closer to the desk so it would hide her petite frame beneath it.

She grumbled at the indignity of being hidden under his desk, and he knew there would be hell to pay later for it. He was mentally calculating the odds of her behaving for the next fifteen minutes when the door burst open and in walked George, looking far too chipper for his liking.

He cleared his throat, trying to look casual and not like he’d literally been caught with his pants down. “What’s up, George? Is there a problem on the floor?”

“No problem. I wanted to check if you’d contacted Parkinson about the saliva. I was doing inventory in the stockroom and noticed we’ve used the last of it.”

Hearing Pansy and saliva mentioned in the same sentence while her hot mouth worked him over was wreaking havoc on his control. Merlin, he needed to think of something else.

“Um, oh right.” He gasped when the tip of Pansy’s tongue flicked tentatively against the head of his aching cock.

Guess he had his answer on whether she’d behave. Merlin, this was torture. 

He tried to keep his voice even when he said, “Yes, I did talk to her…about it.” His hand tugged gently on her hair in clear warning. “She said they received a shipment and would send some over. If it’s been delivered, it’s probably still in boxes. I haven’t had a chance to c-check yet.”

Silently—and despite his warning—Pansy’s mouth engulfed him, taking him to the back of her throat in one smooth glide. His eyes rolled back into his head before he could contain his reaction. Damn. Now would’ve been an excellent time to flex his Occluding skills if he had any, but he’d always been shit at hiding his emotions.

George’s eyes roved over Fred’s desk with curiosity. “What are you working on anyway? More testing?”

What was he working on? Currently, he was trying not to come down Pansy’s throat while his brother watched. She was moving in earnest now, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold on much longer. He had her hair in a death grip, but the brat persisted.

“Freddie?”

Had George asked him something else? If he had, Fred hadn’t heard it because his witch had him quite literally by the balls.

A loud chuckle broke through the haze of lust melting his brain. “I guess that answers my question.”

“Erm, what?!” he squeaked. Momentary panic overrode his mounting pleasure. Did George know Pansy was under his desk, blowing his mind and his cock?

George pointed to his cheeks with a shit-eating grin. “You’re obviously testing the suncream. By the looks of it, you mixed up a good batch, if the ‘shy little boy’ emblazoned across your bright red face is any indication.” He laughed again, shoving his hands into his pockets to rock back on his heels in glee.

“Oh!” Fred choked out, his hand tugging on Pansy’s hair helplessly in a silent plea for mercy. “I-I completely forgot. H-How does it look?”

“Brilliant. Looks exactly like a sunburn except where the words appear. Does it hurt?” George took a step closer, intent on inspecting the results himself.

“No,” he shook his head quickly, praying to any god who’d listen that his brother would keep his distance. “Hurt isn’t the word I’d use at the moment.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” George looked at him in concern. “Are you having an adverse reaction to the cream?”

“No, no. My mind is just a little…frazzled. It’s been a long day, and this miserable heatwave isn’t helping.” As soon as the word ‘heatwave’ left his lips, Pansy ghosted a breath of hot air over his length. His whole body twitched at the sensation against his sensitive skin. Another gust of air left her mouth in a huff, and this time, he swore she was laughing at him from her hiding spot.

“Maybe go upstairs and lie down a bit just in case. Cast a cooling charm too while you’re at it.” He paused thoughtfully. “Oh, there’s an idea! Maybe we should add a cooling element to the formula. Could be a selling point, don’t you think?”

“Sure. Yeah. Sounds good, George. Shouldn’t you be getting back? I’ll just, um, head upstairs. Yeah. Good idea.” Fred moved to stand, but quickly fell back in his chair when he remembered that his trousers were undone.

Blasted witch, scrambling his brain.

“Alright…you’re sure you’re ok, Freddie?” George inched toward the door, but looked disconcerted at the idea of leaving Fred alone in such a state.

“Yes,” he tried not to stress the word too much. “Fine.”

“I’ll check on you later. Send a Patronus if you need anything—or if whatever has your wand in a knot persists.”

Pansy chuckled quietly. His wand was definitely in a knot at the moment, and he would absolutely not be talking to his brother about it.

“Will do.”

With that, George exited his office, leaving Fred to slump in his chair. He was wrung out from the teasing, the pleasure, and the stress. Looking down at the witch between his knees, he observed her innocent expression.

“You minx. He almost caught us.” Fred scrubbed a sweaty palm over his face as he caught his breath. “What were you thinking?”

She swiped a finger over her swollen lips. “I was thinking that I don’t want to be your sexy little secret anymore, Fred.” The pleading he saw in the fathomless depths of her eyes slayed him.

He shoved his still-aching cock into his trousers, wincing when the fabric chafed uncomfortably, before pulling her into his lap to capture her lips in unspoken apology. When he pulled back, she wore a pretty pout and had an adorable scrunch to her upturned nose.

“It was fun sneaking around in the beginning, but I’m tired of leaving your bed in the middle of the night. I want to fall asleep with you and wake up with you—have tea and breakfast, even.”

Fred sighed, guilt churning in his gut. “I promise it won’t be much longer. I’ll tell him.”

She looked away, eyes losing focus somewhere over his shoulder. “Are you…ashamed of me?”

“No! Of course not!”

Damn, he was making a royal mess of this.

She kept her gaze averted. “Do you think he’ll hate me?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s not that.”

Pansy finally turned back to him, her voice quiet, “Well, explain it to me, then.”

It was his turn to look away.

“It’s just that…George and I have been inseparable since, well, forever. We’ve done our fair share of dating in the past, but nothing serious.” His head fell back on his chair, a beleaguered breath escaping his chest. “I’m afraid that as things get serious between us—which they are, by the way—that the dynamic between George and me will change. I know change is natural with these things, but I’m—”

He swallowed around the emotion clogging his throat.

Pansy’s hand moved to brush back the hair that had fallen over his forehead. “Shh, it’s alright. I understand now. You don’t want to lose your brother.” Kissing him with unbearable tenderness, she continued, “But eventually, you will have to tell him. The secrets are already putting a strain on your relationship—a strain on you.”

She smoothed out the wrinkles creasing his forehead, and he leaned into the familiar comfort of her touch.

“You know I don’t want to be the source of tension between you and George. I simply want to get to know the people who mean the most to you. Because you mean the most to me.” She stressed the words, the underlying meaning not lost on him.

“I know. I want that too.” Fred buried his head in Pansy’s chest, pulling her close, even if it never seemed to be close enough.

She rubbed his shoulders, pulling him into her embrace. “How about we go upstairs and hide away for the rest of the day? We’ll forget everyone else for the evening except us, okay?”

“You’re so good to me, Pansy Parkinson.”

She caressed one finger across the length of his cheek. “I know how to take care of my shy little boy.”

He closed his eyes in realisation that his face was still aflame from his earlier testing. If he hadn’t already been crimson from the suncream, he surely would’ve blushed beet red at the reminder.

──── ⋆｡⊹ 𖤓 ⊹｡⋆ ────

We now interrupt your fic reading experience to bring you the latest must-have product from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes! A cutting-edge Cooling Suncream guaranteed to beat the blistering heat! Just in time for your summer holiday needs!

──── ⋆｡⊹ 𖤓 ⊹｡⋆ ────

Fred stretched his legs, leaning against the headboard while he twirled noodles around the tines of his fork. They’d spent the entire afternoon doing as Pansy had suggested. Hidden away in his bedroom, they’d napped and enjoyed themselves, easing the tension from earlier with a bout of light snogging and carefree laughter. It was exactly what he’d needed.

Then, as the sun dipped low in the sky, casting the room in brilliant reds and golds with fading light, they’d ventured out to grab dinner before returning to eat it in the comfort of his bed.

A rogue noodle fell from his mouth onto the duvet, marring the fabric with its sticky sauce, and Pansy teased him with a breezy chuckle. She waved her wand to clean up his mess without complaint, and Fred froze with his fork halfway to his mouth.

Pansy was captivating like this, sprawled out on his bed, eating noodles in nothing but one of his worn shirts. Her lithe, tanned thighs stretched across the duvet, her hair a tousled mess from their earlier nap.

He couldn’t look away.

She was informing him about a recent interaction with one of her more curious customers, speculating over the odd assortment of ingredients the grizzled old man had purchased, but Fred was only half listening. His thoughts were preoccupied by the enchanting witch before him.

He kept replaying his earlier slip of the tongue when he’d almost confessed his feelings to her, and was spiralling about how he could properly tell her those three little words. He stared at the carton of noodles in his hand as if it would give him the answer he sought until he noticed a silence had fallen over the room.

“Hmm,” she scrutinised him when he finally looked up from his dinner. “You’re still terribly distracted.”

A smile tugged at his lips. She didn’t miss a thing. “A bit, yeah.”

“Maybe I can help you clear your head.”

Fred arched a curious brow, but stayed silent, chewing his lip as he waited to see what she’d do. Pansy set her carton of noodles aside, then reached for his to do the same.

“I think we need to fight fire with fire,” she said.

Her words fueled his curiosity further. “Oh?”

“The best way to rid you of one distraction is by providing another.” She hitched the hem of his shirt up her thighs so she could straddle his lap. His hands found their way to the soft curve of her hips with ease, and he could feel the warmth of her bare skin searing him through the thin material of the pyjamas he wore.

“I can get on board with this theory, but I think we may need to test it to be sure,” he murmured.

Lips locked and eyes closed, they let their hands wander, exploring every inch they could reach. He traced a sensual path up her spine, his hands delving beneath the shirt she wore with greedy touches. Pansy shivered against him, and he chased the hitch of her breath with his tongue.

It wasn’t enough.

In a rush, he whipped the shirt over her head, temporarily surrendering her lips to bare her smooth skin to his hungry gaze.

“Beautiful.” He leaned forward to kiss her shoulder, moving to do the same to the other. “Stunning.” 

“Fred,” she breathed, her head tilting toward the ceiling to give him more room to worship the skin of her neck.

He used it to his advantage, kissing a trail of wet kisses along her collarbone. He sucked at the base of her neck in long, leisurely draws before dipping lower to her chest. At the first touch of his tongue to her straining nipple, she gasped and rotated her hips against him. Fred groaned, enjoying the friction, but he cursed the barrier still between them.

Quickly, and without any fanfare, he lifted her so he could remove his pyjamas. His actions were sloppy and swift, but he needed to be inside her. Finally free of the blasted clothing, he notched himself at her entrance, allowing her to sink onto his length.

Her movements weren’t rushed.

Pansy was a witch who set her own pace, and she seemed intent on savouring this first intimate touch, teasing him with the delicious torture. After an eternity, he was fully sheathed inside her, a low groan echoing through the small space when her wet heat clenched rhythmically around his cock. 

Six months. It had been six months of having her, and it never got old. Never got boring. She’d cast a spell on him, and he was transfixed. Every time they came together like this, it was pure, concentrated magic, and he never wanted it to end.

Fred rolled them to the side without leaving her tight heat, changing their position so they could maintain eye contact. It felt closer and more intimate this way, matching the feelings that were coursing riotously through his veins.

Leaning close, he was intent on worshipping her. He kissed the tip of her nose and then each of her closed eyelids. He could feel her stuttered breath against his neck as he lavished her cheeks and jaw with slow, unhurried kisses. 

Pansy crawled closer, her breasts pressed to his chest, and one leg hitched over his hip. They tangled their limbs until he was unsure where he ended and she began. Fred thrust in smooth yet powerful movements, setting a comfortable pace for them to get lost in. His earlier frenzy had faded away in favour of languorous glides that drove their pleasure closer to that inevitable peak. There was no need to rush now that he had her fully in his grasp—and he didn’t intend on ever letting her go.

Soon, they were both chasing their orgasms, the only sound in the room their laboured breaths. Pansy tossed her head back, her walls a vice grip around his cock as she came. Two final thrusts were all he managed before following her over the edge into his own blinding climax.

When he’d recovered enough to open his eyes, he found her watching him. Her eyelids were heavy, and her smile was warm with satisfaction. She’d never looked so at ease.

He spoke his adoration against her skin, telling her how beautiful, witty, and funny she was. His hands rubbed at her tired muscles, loosening them with his touch. Then, without giving himself a chance to second-guess it, he whispered the words into the night: “I love you.”

She froze for a millisecond before her hands furrowed deeper into his hair. Pansy pulled him close to her, their noses brushing lightly with increased proximity. Her words were scarcely more than a whisper between them, but he could hear the conviction of them all the same. “I love you, too.”

Their lips found each other like a magnetic force dragging them closer—drawing them home. His groan mingled with her gasp, and they devoured each other in the quiet moonlight filtering through the window, sealing the moment with a passionate kiss.

“Gods, I’ve wanted to say that for a while,” he told her when they finally came up for air. “I almost blurted them out earlier at the shop like a blundering idiot.”

“I know.” Pansy laughed, touching his cheek where the suncream’s charm had faded. “I figured I’d cut you a break since you were clearly in distress.”

“You knew?” His eyes widened.

“I always know, Fred Weasley. I see you. You’re an open book—and a shit liar.”

He reared back. “I am not.”

“You are,” she emphasised. “I knew it the first time you walked into my shop, cheeks burning, bumbling over your words like you’d never talked to a witch in your life. It was…cute.”

“I am not cute. I am…rugged. And very masculine, thank you very much.”

She nuzzled her nose over the stubble covering his jaw. “So masculine.”

He huffed, miffed, but eventually mellowed beneath her warm lips and soothing hands. His eyes were drooping in exhaustion, but he had one more thing to say.

“I’ll tell him.”

“George?” Her deep brown eyes met his, and he could see the hope swirling within their depths.

“I’ll tell him about us. Tomorrow.” Fred nodded. “I don’t want to hide you away anymore. I want to show you off—show the world how lucky I am to have you.”

“Thank you.” She rewarded him with a quick peck, cuddling against his chest, halfway asleep herself.

──── ⋆｡⊹ 𖤓 ⊹｡⋆ ────

Fred rolled over, curling himself around the warmth emanating from Pansy’s sleeping form. He wasn’t quite ready to wake, not when he could cling to his witch beneath the covers.

He burrowed into the crook of her neck, inhaling her cherry scent. It was sweet and tart with an underlying tinge of salt from last night’s exertions. The blend of smells was intoxicating, and he was certain his Amortentia would smell exactly like it.

He sucked at the skin of her neck, eager for the taste of cherries and sweat on his tongue when Pansy stirred from her sleep. She instinctively leaned back into his hold, seeking him out as his arms tightened their grip on her.

“What…” Pansy mumbled, her voice raspy from sleep.

“Morning, love.” He rumbled the words into her skin. “Did you sleep well?”

“Morning?” she asked. “Wait…I stayed the night?! No!”

She shot up in a frenzy of limbs and wild raven hair, not caring that the sheet pooled forgotten around her waist. Pansy sat scrubbing at her tired eyes, her chest on full display for him. Her nipples were peaked and dusky pink, thoroughly distracting him from her rising panic. He surreptitiously adjusted himself beneath the duvet, wanting to pull her to him for a taste. He was ravenous.

Running a hand through her hair, she continued, “I know you said you’d tell him, but not like this. I have to go before he wakes up.” 

“Or…you could come back here,” he stretched an arm in her direction, “and let me ravish you.”

He reeled her in slowly, tugging on her arm when she resisted with a half-hearted eye roll. Halfway to him, her resistance melted like warm butter on a hot summer day. Pansy spread out over his chest, her body blanketing him in her fiery heat. She was perfect. 

“That’s better,” he sighed against her lips, taking them in a proper good morning kiss. “Have I told you today that I love you?”

She giggled. “Not yet.”

“A grave error on my part.” He kissed her again. “I love you. So much.”

The contented sight that left her lips at his words was a balm to his soul. “I lov—”

But because he was apparently not the luckiest bloke in existence, George took that exact moment to interrupt them. Again. His brother’s knuckles rapped on the wood of the door in quick succession, startling them both out of their cosy morning love bubble.

Fred groaned. Of all the rotten luck.

Pansy’s eyes widened, her earlier panic flooded back as quickly as it had fled. She dove beneath the duvet, covering her entire body save for a few strands of dark hair poking out the top. He tried valiantly to hold in the laugh that wanted to burst free at her abysmal hiding spot, but George was an impatient little fuck and evidently wasn’t going to wait for permission to enter.

The door swung open, revealing an upbeat George beaming from ear to…well…missing ear. In his free hand, he held the handles of two tea cups, the contents of which were perilously close to overflowing.

“Good morning, Freddie! Had an early night last night, did we?” George handed him a steaming cup of tea, which he accepted with suspicion, sitting up but carefully clutching the sheet over his manhood.

His eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

George clutched his chest. “Why the sour face? Can’t I bring my beloved twin a cup of tea to start his morning without an ulterior motive?”

“Not unless you’re up to something.”

“I’m offended you think so poorly of me!” George’s lips turned down in an exaggerated frown. “Anyways, I’ll leave you to enjoy your tea and wake up a bit more. Are you coming to dinner at the Burrow tonight?”

“Of course. Mum would kill me if I skipped it.”

George nodded in agreement, turning to leave. Fred sighed in relief that his brother wasn’t going to make a scene about the painfully obvious outline of a witch in his bed.

“Oh, wait,” George paused in the doorway, snapping his fingers before turning around again. “This is for Pansy.”

A surprised squeak came from the rumpled covers. Merlin, he should’ve known.

George approached the bed, still grinning, and leaned over Fred with the other cup of tea. Without revealing herself, Pansy snaked one hand from her hiding spot to accept the teacup.

“George, I can explain,” he hurried to reassure his twin before realisation dawned on him. “Wait—How did you know I had someone over? And how in the bloody hell did you know it was Pansy?”

He received an incredulous look from George as Pansy shimmied her way up the bed, tucking the sheet neatly beneath her arms to protect her modesty.

“Mate, her things are strewn about the entire flat.” He waved his hands wildly to make his point. “Her knickers are still in between the sofa cushions! We’ve had actual food in the cupboards for the last three months, along with her poncy tea—I hope I made it to your liking by the way, Pansy.”

She took a tentative sip, nodding her begrudging approval.

When did his brother have the time to learn how his girlfriend took her tea?! What in the hell was happening right now? Had the suncream fried his brain, and he was actually having some sort of surreal fever dream?

“What? How? When…?” Fred asked.

George wheezed. “Were you even trying to hide it?”

“Yes!”

Pansy shot daggers at him with her eyes.

“Well, we were…” Fred rushed to defend himself.

“You need to work on your stealth skills, Freddie. You’re slipping in your old age.” George shook his head, disappointment etched into every word. He turned to whisper loudly to Pansy. “Tragic what happens when wizards let themselves go.”

Fred side-eyed his brother. “So you aren’t…upset?”

“Upset? Why would I be upset? It’s not like she’s drinking my tea. Had the decency to bring her own. Thank you for that, Pans. Can I call you ‘Pans’?” George winked at her.

Looking up over the rim of her teacup, she arched a censorious brow. “No, you may not.”

Unperturbed, he replied, “We’ll circle back to nicknames at a later date.”

Fred didn’t buy this level of acceptance and nonchalance. “What aren’t you saying, George?”

“Me? Nothing! It’s terribly sad you can’t trust your own brother—your twin!”

“Probably because I know you,” Fred griped.

“I merely thought that since Pansy had finally stayed over that she might want to come to family dinner tonight.” George shrugged. “I’m extending an invitation like a good, supportive brother ought to do.”

Fred paled, thinking of his entire family meeting Pansy at once. He shuddered, knowing the kind of ribbing he’d receive. “Perhaps we should ease her into meeting the family, eh?”

George nodded thoughtfully, leaning against the wall near the door. “Probably wise to wait. We can be a rowdy bunch at the best of times.”

“No, I want you to say it.” Fred didn’t trust his brother as far as he could throw him. “Promise me you won’t say anything to the rest of the family until we’re ready.”

“I—” George began.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

All three of them whipped their heads toward the window. Perched on the narrow ledge of the sill was a familiar harried barn owl with a red envelope tied to its leg.

Fred instantly recognised the red parchment, and his voice lowered to a threatening timbre, “What did you do?”

“Oh…” George met his gaze head-on. “I might have owled mum and told her to expect a guest for dinner.”

“You did what?!”

Fred leapt from the bed to throttle his twin, not caring that he was starkers, but George held up a hand and skittered out of reach toward the window and the waiting owl. “Easy there, killer. Put your love gun away before you poke someone’s eye out.”

“I can’t believe you told mum! That’s low, George!”

“You needed a swift kick in the arse, Freddie. You were moving at a snail’s pace. It’s obvious you’re in love with her.”

Pansy blushed into her tea beside him, and he was suddenly aware how absurd the entire situation was. They were naked in bed. He was arguing with his brother. And a fucking howler was waiting for him at the window.

“You didn’t have to tell Mum—in an owl, no less!”

“Oops?” George shrugged.

Fred seethed. “I’m going to murder you.”

George approached the bed, howler in hand, chuckling in delight. “Not if mum murders you first.” He dropped the envelope in Fred’s lap like it was a bomb about to go off. He supposed it wasn’t a far-off description. “I think this is for you.”

“Piss off.”

“I was doing you a favour,” George pointed at him. “Consider it payback for thinking you could ever keep your relationship a secret from me. Wanker.”

The howler burst open, levitating menacingly in front of his face, but he knew the voice that followed would be much more threatening.

“FREDERICK GIDEON WEASLEY, HOW DARE YOU KEEP YOUR GIRLFRIEND A SECRET FROM ME! ARE YOU ASHAMED OF YOUR OWN FAMILY?! IT’S INEXCUSABLE! AND NOW SHE’S COMING FOR DINNER AND I HAVEN’T HAD TIME TO PREPARE OR TIDY THE HOUSE! A LITTLE HEADS UP WOULD’VE BEEN APPRECIATED!”

Molly Weasley’s voice boomed through the entire flat, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the neighbors down the block could hear her as well. Fred winced, looking at Pansy to gauge her reaction to his mother’s words. She looked stunned, but also amused—at least until the howler turned to her. Pansy gulped, wide-eyed and nervous.

“Pansy, I’m so delighted you’ll be joining us for dinner this evening. I can’t wait to officially meet you.”

The tone of his mother’s voice had shifted to a sugary sweet cadence she’d surely never used on him.

“I’d say that I’ve heard so much about you from Fred, but I’m sad to say I haven’t. We can fix that at dinner. Are you allergic to anything? What’s your favorite dessert? Oh, not to worry! I’ll make an assortment. See you soon, my dear.”

Fred assumed that was the end of her tirade, and sank against the headboard, but he should’ve known he wouldn’t get off that easily.

The howler turned on him, hurling one last angry sentence in his direction.

“AND DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT BEING LATE!”

In a flutter of furious confetti, the howler shredded itself into tiny pieces he would no doubt be fishing out of every nook and cranny of the flat for the next month.

With an aggrieved sigh that ruffled the bits of howler dotting the bed, he scrubbed his hands over his face. “This is going to be a disaster, and it’s all your fault.”

Pansy spoke up, “Mine? Or his?”

He paused for a moment. “Both…yeah, definitely both.”

When silence met his words, he looked back and forth between them, noting the shared look of mischief on both of their faces. An uneasy feeling settled in his gut at this new, alarming development.

Then, they spoke in unison, evil intent plain as day on both their faces, and Fred knew he was completely fucked. “Sounds like fun!”