Chapter 1 : Letís Start at the Beginning
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 38|
Background: Font color:
HI!! Mistress here with my newest story! You'll notice this one has a "drama" tag, which is different from my others, but still PLENTY of humor. Mostly humor. All of the humor. Anyway, I really hope all of you enjoy it! I'd like to dedicate the first chapter to siriuslyhockey for laying on a plastic rtube in the middle of a lake talking this story out with me while we both got fried. Whoops. Sunscreen is a must!
“FRED WEASLEY! YOU OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!”
At that point in my life, this is what I knew about Ryan Davies:
She was a seventh year Ravenclaw.
I’d never seen her study a day in her life. I’d also never seen her fail anything.
She was an only child.
She hated Transfiguration.
She hated any form of commitment.
Other than with her best friend, Gemma.
Her dad, Grant Davies, played for the Arrows and had two Cup rings before his fall.
Her eyes were the same color as mine.
She was the star Chaser of the Ravenclaw team and once elbowed me off my broom.
Among a couple other things.
And she could yell.
I was leaning against the door to the Prefect’s bathroom. It was empty (thankfully) except the usual tub in the center, mermaid painting, and my bag on the tile, exposing its contents of quills and notes I’d been passing with James in Charms. They were important notes regarding our soon-to-be-a-reality renovation of the shop.
There would probably be scantily clad girls carrying around trays of sweets to test.
To be determined, but the mental note was there.
The door shook behind me every time Ryan pounded on it. This was not going well. She’d spotted me in the hallway, hair tossed half over her face, and took off after me, screaming and yielding her wand.
She was a Ravenclaw. Angry Ravenclaws with wands were not to be trifled with.
Not that I had any idea why she was so angry.
“OPEN the DOOR!” she shrieked.
I looked to my left and right. We were several floors up, so there was no escape out the window. No flushing myself down a toilet. No apparating. I was even getting quite good.
“Why are you trying to kill me?” I cried through the door. We didn’t hang out. We didn’t share any friends. I didn’t even cheat off of her in History of Magic. I cheated off James. I didn’t even pretend to cheat off of her like I did Molly.
“I am going to make you regret being born!”
I gaped at the door. “Seriously?” I said. “I mean, I’m sure the day wasn’t that bad. Mum said it was sunny...and a bit warm. It was April, you know.” I smiled at that.
“GET OUT HERE. I am NOT fucking around.”
She had a bloody mouth on her.
The door was staring to shake violently and I pressed my palms against it. “Okay?” I said. “So if I come out do you promise not to kill me?”
“Open the door, Weasley.”
That sounded calmer. Okay, that was a good sign. “I’m going to open the door,” I said loudly. “And we can talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you. Like rational adults. Two people. Just talking. I’ll even buy a coffee if you want.”
There was a growl from the other side of the door. Godric.
“Opening the door...” I swallowed hard and unlocked the door, pulling it open.
Ryan Davies was in the hallway, brown hair still tossed all over her face. Her dark eyes were on fire, fists balled at her sides. Her bag was on the floor beside her, contents also forgotten as a few people kicked them as they walked by. None of them came to my rescue, by the way.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” she asked, taking a step closer to me. Her lips were pressed tight together.
“Fred Weasley,” I said with a kind smile. “You know me. I play Quidditch for Gryffindor.”
That was when I got a right hook to the face.
I probably shouldn’t have shagged her and not owled over the summer.
We should back up. It was the start of seventh year and things were going well. Mum and Dad had packed up Rox and me and shipped us off on yet another adventurous Hogwarts Express ride filled with her ditching me the second we walked up the steps and me bunking with James and Ollie while they snogged. The only good part was sitting with Annie while I attempted to ignore the saliva across the compartment.
James and Ollie had been dating for three years. They were the Gryffindor Golden Couple. Nay, the Hogwarts Golden Couple. She had that thin, blond frame you didn’t see around Hogwarts very often. Got good marks, read more than most of our year, and smiled all the time. He was hooked from day one. But then in fourth year he stood on a table and confessed his love to her. Which got him a lot of laughs.
And a girlfriend.
Annie was Ollie’s best mate. Both of them were Gryffindor seventh years, though two of the few tolerable ones. Annie propped my feet up on her lap and gave me a foot massage while asking about my summer. We’d exchanged a couple of letters and I saw her a few times at Ollie’s, but other than that I kept my distance from a lot of girls for the season. I needed it.
I told her about the family outings and Quidditch in the back garden. She nodded at all the right parts, a smile on her lips. I liked that about her. However boring and mundane my stories about my cousin Hugo’s sad attempt to grow a mustache were, she still smiled at them. So I continued until Prefect rounds.
Unfortunately, I was stuck with China Wyandot, the choppy-haired Hufflepuff with wide, doe eyes. She was nice enough, but I missed Molly. She’d just been named Head Girl along with China’s previous partner, Rune Douglas. Both deserved it, but China jabbered on about her seven dogs and sixteen cats and twelve raccoons or something. I couldn’t remember the exact numbers, but I was fairly sure that was it. Give or take one or four.
She was very pretty though, and a sweet girl. I had the urge to pat her on the head.
“See you, Freddie?” China said with a wide grin, awkwardly shaking my hand before disappearing back up the train.
I would never understand the other houses.
James leaned over at the feast, mouth half-full of pork. “What’d your dad say?” he asked. “About the renovation?”
“Said we’re bloody crazy,” I mumbled, helping myself to buttered bread. The entire hall was packed and filled with chatter. Headmaster Finks had already spoken, though most of us didn’t pay any mind considering he was three quarters of a million and had a monologue about cheese briskets. “There’s no way he’d let us do it. Besides, he’s got the Hogsmeade branch to worry about anyway.”
“What’s the news on that?” James ignored the second year prodding him in the arm and surveyed me. He had his dad’s hair and it bloody needed cut, sinking into his eyes like a sheep dog. His eyes were like mine, though, dark chocolate brown. Except he was a pale bugger and I had what Ollie liked to call a “caramel complexion” which she also said made her want sweets.
I still wasn’t sure how to take that.
James and I had been best mates forever. Since we were born, probably. I was three months older than him, and taller, but that didn’t matter to either of us. We grew up fighting to reach the shelves of Dad’s shop, testing out products I’ll never tell Mum about, and playing pickup Quidditch games with the relatives. We told each other everything.
I told him about my heartbreaks the last three years. About when I thought I was in love. He told me when him and Ollie were going through rough patches and how they made up. It usually had to do with flowers and poetry. Bloody sap.
We had each other, and that was what mattered. Ollie didn’t steal James away from me and none of my past girlfriends stole me from him. They knew better. We were Frames, which was what Dad had taken to calling us. He even got Grandmum in on it a couple times and let me tell you, that coming from her mouth is enough to make you spit pumpkin pie all over the dinner table.
Twice. The first time it missed Roxy, so I had to go again.
“Still trying to get the building,” I replied quietly. I wasn’t much to talk about it unless it was a sure thing. My family’s shop in Diagon Alley was the hit of the century, but the Hogsmeade branch was still up in the air. Dad wanted it. Wanted it bad. But the building he wanted was owned by a creepy old woman and Zonkos was trying to file three different suits at once. Disaster.
“Let me know if I can help,” James said, nodding. He wanted it just as bad as I did. “I’ve got this brilliant idea for the front windows. I’ve got it in my bag – I’ll tell you about it later.”
Ollie walked by, leaning down and kissing James on the cheek. “Talking about pretty Hufflepuffs again?” she teased, sliding next to her boyfriend and helping herself to some food.
“Where’ve you been?” James asked, cocking a brow. “You missed the whole road-kill-oriented speech Finks gave. Or...whatever it was about.” He looked at me. “It was dead animals, right?”
“That was last year,” I noted.
“Rose was catching me up,” Ollie said. “She’s got try-outs scheduled this weekend so clear your schedules.”
“That soon?” James grumbled. “Fucking hell. Rose just can’t wait a second for me to get my dinner down before I’ve gotta be on that broom.”
“Weights tomorrow?” I asked.
He nodded. “Going to have to. I’ve been practicing with Al lately so I haven’t been Beating.”
Ollie ruffled his hair. “Think you’ll live?” she asked with a grin.
“I doubt it,” James said gruffly. “You’re going to have to take care of me and draw me a hot bath.”
“Oh, hell,” I grumbled, standing and going to sit with Molly, stealing her dessert with a swipe of my fork.
I had learned over the last couple years I should not speak during try-outs. I’d made the team fourth year under Lucas Chaltry, bulky fellow who knew how to yell, but not so much how to Beat. That was the same year Rose made the team as a Seeker. Lucas graduated the following year and everything else was history.
“Pay attention.” Rose was pacing in front of the chalk board, her fingers grasping the chalk even though she had no intention of writing with it. She rarely did anyway. Her posture was straight and stiff, red hair pulled up into a tight ponytail. James and I had a theory her hairline was going to start receding because of how tight that damn thing was.
I was sitting between James (who was munching on pretzels) and Gee (resident Chaser, full name Georgiana Finch-Fletchley. Also known as Gee Finch), eyes on the blank chalk board. Ollie was on James’s other side filing her nails.
It was the same every year. Rose pacing in front. The rest of us bored on the bench suppressing yawns.
“We’re after two players,” she said, drawing a large two on the chalk board. I laughed, but turned it into a hacking cough when she looked over. “We need a Chaser to work with Ollie and Gee and we need a Keeper. We’re not going to be able to replace Norm that easy.”
Alessandra Norm had been Keeper for one year, her seventh, and was bloody brilliant. And very attractive. Heartbreak number two. Fifth year. Four months.
“Too bad we didn’t have a decent reserve,” Ollie said, frowning. She arched her back in a stretch, tying her blond hair into a knot. She had a point. Last year our reserve was on the team because we felt bad he wasn’t allowed in Charms club. He blew up half the Charms corridor.
“That’s not my fault,” Rose said impatiently. “It’s my job to get us a new Chaser and a new Keeper and some reserves to go with it. Unless everyone who tries out is a twat and then I’m going to forfeit the games and go turn the shower to scalding.”
“Never with the dramatics, cuz,” James mumbled, draping an arm around Ollie’s shoulders.
“Are they out there?” Gee asked, leaning over to pull the door open. She closed it quickly. “Yup.”
Gee was one of my favorites. She was Rose’s roommate, a sixth year who I always teased for perching on one of the Gryffindor sofas flipping through a sappy romance novel. She loved that stuff. Loved to lounge about in her flannel pajamas and lose herself in a book. But on the pitch she was fierce. Like a true Gryffindor lion.
“Yes, they are,” Rose said, narrowing her eyes. “We’re going to work together as a team and select them.”
“You mean we’re going to play and you’re going to undermine every opinion we have and pick them,” James corrected with a smirk.
“Didn’t I say that?” Rose asked, returning his smirk and walking out onto the pitch.
Mental note: WWW sunglasses. Quidditch line. So much brightness.
“You think we picked the right people?” I rolled over that night, looking at James, who was flipping through a glossy magazine Ollie was having him read. The picture on his lap was a pretty girl in a swimsuit selling anti-aging lotion. “I mean, do you think Rose picked the right people?”
James nodded. “I think we’ll be fine,” he said. “Though come November we’ll find out, won’t we?”
The try-outs had lasted longer than the previous years. Lots of drills and laps and trying to find just the right person to fit in with our style, or so Rose explained. I just grabbed a bat and started aiming. And, unfortunately, sending a couple people to the hospital. Rose believed in the tough love approach and told James and me if they couldn’t dodge they couldn’t play.
We went through the normal Chaser drills, which were more fun for me. Rose paced on the pitch in front of the rest of the hopefuls, not taking any notes. Her eyes were narrowed. Uncle Ron would be proud and perplexed. She had two Chasers go head to head, one with Ollie and the other with Gee, to see how they worked, and waited for the one with Ollie (Kirsty) to score a goal before blowing her whistle and shouting that the one with Gee got the spot: Beckett Saunders.
Don’t ask me. I never understood Rose’s coaching methods.
The Keeper was an easier process, but dull for me. I sprawled out in the grass, James and I comparing what clouds looked like. A lot of them ended up inappropriate. The girls nearby were giggling. Rightfully so; James had a filthy mouth.
After what seemed to be hours of Rose watching Quaffles get thrown at Keeper candidates, through the hoops, and a few horribly-aimed throws by Beckett because he was shaking with nerves, Rose called three people in front of her.
“Here’s how it’s going to go,” she said, tapping her clipboard with her fingers. Rose had short, stubby fingernails because according to her ‘the pitch was no place for a manicure.’ How Dominique hadn’t tackled her in her sleep was beyond me. “Rami, you were good, but I don’t trust your eye.” The girl was sweating, dark hair spilling onto her shoulders. She nodded. Rose continued, “Teo. You missed two. Technically, Rami was better than you. Hell, Sean was better. But I like you, Teo.”
She picked up Teo Harper as our Keeper, who was a small girl with gray eyes and blond hair. At least her gear gave her a bit of padding.
Every other year I hadn’t questioned Rose’s methods, but this year had me wondering if she’d gone a bit soft. If she realized Sean was on a higher skill level than Teo, why didn’t we get him? Did she want a female Keeper?
“Who cares?” James grunted, echoing what my thoughts should have been. “We’ll play. Our parents will come to the games. It’ll be a right good time. Then we can concentrate on getting Uncle George on board with the shop renovation.”
“I still think he might be skeptical of the marketing campaign with the half-naked girls,” I noted, pulling the blankets up to my chest.
“He’ll get on board once he sees Ollie in that tiny skirt and bikini top.”
“Bloody hell, James, we are not using Ollie.”
“Why not?” He put the magazine down and finally looked over. “Do you not think my girlfriend is attractive?”
“Course she is, but d’you want every bloke drooling over your girl?”
James was quiet for a moment. At least I’d managed to penetrate his brain. “Sure, I do.”
Fucking hell, James.
I sank down next to Annie in Charms, head aching from hitting it on the dresser trying to get bloody dressed. My head had a giant knob-sized bruise on it. Not at all attractive, though Annie did let out one of those “d’awe” noises and bit down on her bottom lip.
Something girls had no idea was an amazing, attractive action.
It was years before I knew Annie’s name. She was quiet, kind, and didn’t raise her hand much in class. I think I thought her name was Anna or Anastasia or something. Didn’t know it was Annie. I felt like a tosser considering she was in my year and House, but I was usually preoccupied with my family dramatics, Roxy being a bint, or the homework I wasn’t getting done. Which then moved back toward family dramatics when Molly scolded me at the Gryffindor table.
It wasn’t until James started seeing Ollie that I really hung out with Annie. I appreciated her right from the start. Brown hair she often hid behind. Hazel eyes. Kind smile. Everything about her reeked of Hufflepuff, to be honest, but Hugo insisted she didn’t belong there. I had yet to see the fire behind her eyes, but it was a refreshing change of pace from people like Ollie and Gee and Rose.
“What happened?” she asked.
“Wardrobe malfunction,” I grumbled and she laughed. I took out my Charms book as Professor Aurora scribbled notes on the board. Swishing or flicking, I didn’t really care. She looked like a bloody Muggle princess anyway with her flashy pink robes, but all the girls adored her because she had her own perfume line in Diagon Alley.
“Going to be okay?” Annie patted my arm and then returned to her notebook, copying the notes.
“One day.” I chuckled and she returned the smile.
“Has James been talking about Ollie lately?” Annie asked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. Her voice was hushed, but I still checked to see if anyone looked over. They didn’t. Ollie and James were all the way across the room.
“Talks about Ollie in his sleep,” I noted. I started drawing shapes on my parchment, carefully shading circles so they looked like bubbles and balloons. My artistic abilities came from Mum, though I still wasn’t very good. At least I was better than James, who insisted his stick figures belonged in the Louvre.
“Why?” A few people shot me dirty looks. Apparently Gryffindors concentrated? Dad would be hearing about this.
“Just wondering. Ollie hasn’t said much about him lately. It has me worried.”
“Maybe because you’re around them so much now that school’s started,” I said. I drew string on all the bubbles to make them all balloons. It’s a party. “She doesn’t have anything extra to tell you. No sappy love letters or stick-figure drawings of snogging.”
Annie shrugged, twirling her quill between her fingers. Her polish was purple.
“Don’t be paranoid.” I looked over and Ollie’s head was on James’s shoulder. He was smiling, taking notes for the pair of them.
“Do you think he’ll propose?” she asked.
“When?” I said. “Today? This week? He hasn’t asked me to go ring shopping.”
“This year,” Annie replied, shrugging. She pushed some hair away from her face coyly. “I feel like they’re going to get married and have kids and...” She trailed off, teeth running the length of her bottom lip. “I’m a bit jealous.”
I shrugged. “I think you’re doing just fine.”
She met my eyes. “You think so?”
“Sure.” I ruffled her hair and went back to my bubbles, balloons, and now Quaffles.
I had been in the air for the better part of a half hour when Rose whistled us down. Everything ached. Arms from the sodding Beater’s bat, legs from gripping the broom, nose from wrinkling it at James’ lovestruck grin. He was always like this when he was able to see Ollie again after a long time away. They spend some weekends together over the summer (Uncle Harry trusted him, which was more than I could say for my own father), but for the most part James and I spent our days together at the local pub or locked away in one of our rooms planning out new merchandise lines for the shop.
My feet landed unceremoniously and I shoved my hair back away from my face. “What is it, Rose?” I grumbled. “I was just getting into a rhythm.”
“You weren’t getting into anything.” Rose rolled her eyes. “Ollie, your turns were shit. Gee, your turns were even more shit. Beckett, do not make me drop you for that fucking reserve.” She hoisted her foot up onto the bench to retie her shoes. “Frames, I am sick of your pissing about up there. You couldn’t hit Scorpius Malfoy with a Bludger, let alone an actual skilled player.”
I smirked at that.
“What about you then?” James asked. “You didn’t catch the Snitch.”
“I didn’t release it,” Rose said and then turned to Teo, barking at her for not saving the throw by Gee. Teo looked petrified. I would too, I assumed. Especially if I was a gerbil.
It was nice, though, to have an entire Quidditch team where I didn’t dislike anyone. Thus far. Beckett was still up in the air, but considering he hadn’t said more than two words to me, he was okay. Teo was the size of a rodent. Rose insisted we all bond, but I was going to put that off as long as possible. I had bigger squid to fry.
“You harassing your players again, Weasley?”
I turned, grinning. Rose huffed loudly.
Albus Potter was walking onto the pitch. He was shorter than James by at least four inches and had the same messy hair, but he had those big, green eyes half the Gryffindor girls lovingly whined about during their late-night gossip sessions James and I spied on. He had glasses too, but Gee suggested they were sexy glasses. I suggested he was a twat.
I liked Albus, though. He was the Captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team and had the big C patch on his chest. The rest of his team was behind him in their blue practice jerseys.
“Bugger off, Potter,” Rose said darkly, but then she smirked and walked over, hugging him. “What’re you tossers doing out here? I’ve got the pitch.”
“Share?” Albus gave her puppy-eyes, which I would like to say he didn’t do very well. You needed pretty chocolate-brown eyes to do that. Which I have. And he doesn’t. So shut up, Albus, and go about your life. Being a Potter. And a twat.
“Fine. But keep your Claws down at the other end of the pitch. I can’t have you ruining my concentration.”
Albus grinned. “I’d never ruin anything for you, Ro.” He ruffled her hair. “Except your chances at the Cup.”
“Bugger off, Al,” James said with a smirk, throwing an elbow pad an hitting his brother on the side of the head. We laughed. Too hard.
Albus flicked James off. And me, because I was doubled over at the red mark on his face. “Nice to see you again too.” He nodded politely to Ollie as well and led his team toward the other end of the pitch.
Scorpius Malfoy was behind him. Blond git that I hate more than anyone else at the school. Like he was something special or something. By the way, he wasn’t. At all. Nothing special. Nothing remotely appealing about him except the size of his pocketbook.
And yet he was best friends with my baby sister, Roxanne.
Eugh. Don’t need to think about that.
“You okay, Freddo?” James asked, nudging me. “I have another elbow pad, you know. Want to have a go?”
I thought about it. “Yeah,” I said.
He handed it over. “Go on then.”
I was about to throw it, but got distracted.
By Ryan Davies. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Dark attitude, really. She was almost as tall as me, hair pulled back away from her face. Her broom was shouldered and she had smudges of black makeup under her eyes. She was Al’s jewel and the reason Ravenclaw almost beat us in the final last year. Thank Godric for Rose pulling out a catch because Ryan Davies could throw a Quaffle right into the Keeper and still get a goal out of it.
She narrowed her eyes at me.
Which brought my attention back to shagging her in the cramped stall of a pub bathroom.
Her middle finger should have been my first clue that she wasn’t going to be my biggest fan.
A/N: Hey everyone! I really hope you liked the first chapter. I appreciate you giving it a try! I wanted to do a "pregnancy story" in a male's point of view which focuses on a lot of different issues, so I hope you like the rest :)
Please feel free to share some thoughts!
Sidenote: For Fred's portrayal, picture Joey Ricther (see chapter image) with a darker, caramel complexion. That's how I see Freddie anyway :) Silly, but able to be serious.
Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, family drama, Scorpius Malfoy, Frames, Zonkos, St. Mungo's, classes, sobbing, laughing, alcohol, a Weasley-infested Christmas, bonfires, and a LOT of stupid decisions.
Other Similar Stories
The Girl You...
I Must Be Dr...