warning: bitta cheeky nsfw 👁👄👁

March slips by in a rainy grey haze, and all of the teachers at Hogwarts have begun to pile on additional pressure as the NEWTs approach. The feverish excitement surrounding the Triwizard Tournament seems to ebb and flow constantly throughout the year depending on how soon the tasks are, and right now the castle is in a definite ebb. It might as well have been a regular school year, if not for the handful of Durmstrang or Beauxbatons students that sit in on their classes so that they don't all miss a year of their own magical education.

The one thing that has changed is the way that Marjorie finds herself looking at the Weasley twins.

Her and George haven't spoken much since the party, and they certainly haven't spoken about the kiss, but Marjorie has begun to notice the little smiles he sends her in class, and the way his fingers linger on her skin any time he manages to find an excuse to touch her. However, the only way she can interpret that is as George being friendly, because Fred has started doing it too.

The frequent touches and lingering looks and little smiles from the both of them have fanned her little crush into a full-blown flame of utter longing, and it's nothing short of embarrassing for her. She feels as though she's about to implode anytime one of them so much as looks her way, and she's almost certain that they both know it too. Perhaps the worst part of the whole situation is the guilt, which is difficult to shake; it had been George who had kissed her that night in the common room, so surely it was wrong to be looking at his twin brother in the same way she was looking at him.

Although, having that said, George hadn't exactly made any attempt to approach her in the weeks following the party -- she would have assumed that he had had a few too many Firewhiskeys and had regretted kissing her when morning came, if it weren't for those infuriating smiles he sent her every chance he got.

Marjorie launches herself into schoolwork, though it feels a little futile -- her grades seem stuck in place, and no matter how much homework she battles through or how many hours she spends studying, she can't seem to improve in any of her subjects at all. It feels like she's barely keeping her head above water, and she can't even figure out whether she's more stressed about her school workload or about her situation with George.

April arrives with the fizz of fireworks exploding in the Gryffindor common room as the twins celebrate their birthday -- Marjorie manages to avoid most of the celebration by spending the majority of her time that day in the library, though she had wished them a happy birthday that morning over breakfast before zooming away as quickly as possible. She thinks that she's doing a pretty good job at avoiding them; it mustn't be too obvious or there's no way that they'd have let her away with it, and they haven't cornered her to interrogate her about her avoidance yet.

That lasts until Saturday.

It's a Hogsmeade weekend, but Marjorie has holed herself away in a cozy little corner in the common room with virtually every textbook she owns. She's in the middle of poring over her History of Magic book when she becomes aware of a presence standing behind her, watching her work.

Startled, Marjorie whips around to see Fred standing there with a little grin tugging at his cheeks. "Oh!" A rush of embarrassed nerves shoots through her as she realises that she can't run anymore, and judging by Fred's teasing little eyebrow raise he knows what she's thinking. "I-I didn't realise you were here. Why aren't you in Hogsmeade?"

Fred drops into one of the armchairs in front of her and leisurely spreads his legs. "I'm meeting George and Lee there later on," He says, which doesn't really answer the question. He's still grinning at her, "You know, George says that you told him you weren't angry at us."

"I'm not." Marjorie agrees quickly, picking at her current page in her textbook. She has no doubt that George has told Fred every detail of their little interaction in the common room, especially considering the knowing look on Fred's face, and the knowledge of that leaves her feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

"And yet every time you've seen us the past couple of week you've run away like we're Blast-Ended Skrewts."

Marjorie winces. So she really hadn't been as subtle about the whole thing as she had thought. "Right. Sorry. Um..." She casts about desperately for something to say -- she thinks it would be easier to come up with something if Fred wasn't looking at her so intensely. "I've just... been busy."

"Busy." Fred repeats. His tone is still pretty cheerful, but the way he's looking at her makes it very clear that he doesn't believe a word she's saying. "Wow. You sure take your NEWTs seriously, huh."

"Yes, of course." She keeps fiddling with the book on her lap, wondering what Fred is thinking. "They're, uh, important for the future."

"The future." Fred nods, slow and lazy. "I see, I see. You're not much for living in the moment, are you, darling?"

Marjorie laughs, but it's nervous and quiet and lacks humour. "I suppose I'm not, no. I think too much."

"Is that why you've been avoiding us, then? You've been overthinking kissing Georgie?"

It feels as though Marjorie's breath sticks in her throat on its way out. His words shouldn't come as an enormous shock, considering she had assumed that he already knew about what happened at the party, but she hadn't expected to be confronted so straight-forwardly about the whole thing. "No."

"Do you regret it? Kissing him?"

"No!" Her voice is stronger now, but it still cracks a little. "I don't regret it. I just- I don't know, I didn't know what to say. I was embarrassed, I suppose."

Fred is still watching her, his head tilted a little. After a moment he blows out a sharp exhale and rakes a hand through his hair, before grinning at her once again. "Well, personally I think it's a little unfair. I mean, you didn't know what to say after kissing George, I get that. You felt awkward, I guess. What I don't get is why you were avoiding me. I didn't even get a kiss."

Marjorie just knows that her face is hot and flushed red, but she tries to keep her facial expressions to a minimum. "Er- right. Well, uh, you two sort of come as a pair. It's a little, um, a little difficult to avoid one of you without also avoiding the other."

For some reason, that's very funny to Fred; he starts to chuckle, leaning forward to maintain eye contact with her. "That's true enough, darling, true enough. So, where is it then?"

"Where's what?" Marjorie asks uncomprehendingly.

"My kiss."

Marjorie begins to giggle awkwardly, but for once Fred isn't laughing. He just watches her with that enigmatic little smile playing around his lips as she slowly comes to the realisation that he's not joking. "What?"

"We come as a pair, right?" Fred says; his voice drops low, but his smile is as soft and easy-going as ever. "But I haven't gotten a kiss yet."

It feels as though the breath has been stolen right out of her chest, and she knows that she's staring stupidly at him. He's being almost painfully straight-forward, but her brain still scrambles for an alternative meaning to his words. It is possible that he's teasing her. "That's not funny, Fred."

"I know I'm naturally hilarious, Longbottom, but I promise that if this whole thing is coming across as funny it's just down to my natural talent. I'm not making a joke."

Marjorie stares at him, speechless and floundering. Subconsciously, her eyes dart down to his lips, still stretched in that infuriating grin. She's thinking about it, about how easy it would be to lean over and press her lips to his, but she can't do that. Even if she were brave or confident enough to do it, it surely wouldn't be right to do it after kissing his twin brother only the month before.

As if plucking her thoughts right out of her head, Fred speaks again. "Georgie doesn't mind, you know."

"You talked about it?" Marjorie asks, mortified.

"Sure." Fred says lightly, but with an air of choosing his words very carefully. "We've talked about it. We wanted to talk to you about it too, but, well. You're difficult to find when you don't want to be found."

Marjorie feels as though she's completely lost track of the conversation, and all she can do is stare wide-eyed at him. "I don't- I mean, I really don't understand."

Fred winces a little and shrugs. "Yeah, George would probably be better at explaining this, but I wanted to- I mean, he got to kiss you first, so I thought it would better- well, not better, but," It's the first time that he doesn't seem perfectly composed, and it's both gratifying and startling to see him like this. It's as though he's nervous. Marjorie has never seen Fred Weasley seem nervous before. "Look, I get it if you think it's weird. It is a little weird, I guess. If you want me to back off, then I'll go with no questions asked."

A pause stretches out as Fred waits for an answer, but all Marjorie can do is stare at him with her mouth hanging open a little. It feels as though her brain has been turned into pulled taffy, her thoughts slow and circuitous as she struggles to decide what to do. Fred's words from earlier ring in her mind -- You're not much for living in the moment, are you, darling?

"I- okay." It comes out as whisper, far less confident than she had hoped.

A look of surprised delight blooms across Fred's face, and he reaches out for her hand. "Yeah?"

Marjorie swallows, and wonders if she has any idea what she's getting herself into. "Yeah. Yes."

Still smiling, Fred glances around the common room. It's empty, but he still says, "Wanna go to the dorms? In case someone comes in?"

"Okay." Marjorie murmurs, setting her books aside. She feels a little dazed, as if she'd slipped into a doze while studying and is just dreaming this whole scenario up, but she follows Fred up the stairs all the same.

The dormitory that the twins share with Lee and Kenneth Towler is pretty much what she might have expected; Quidditch players grin and wave down at them from posters stuck up around the walls, robes are strewn across the beds, and school bags and books have been carelessly tossed to the floor. She can guess which beds belong to the twins based on the colourful candy wrappers littered across the bedside lockers and the Zonko's Joke Shop packaging peeking out from beneath the beds. The only part of the whole room that seems neat enough are the two broomsticks stacked carefully against the wall.

Marjorie takes it all in as Fred darts passed her and attempts to surreptitiously clean the clothes off his bed. She feels like it's only polite to pretend that she doesn't notice him kicking the robes under the bedframe. The room smells a little burnt, as though something had been set on fire very recently. "This is- um, nice."

Fred shoots a little grin at her, like he knows what she's thinking. "Want to sit down?"

Marjorie takes a seat on the bed, tugging nervously on her fingers as she looks around the room, her gaze landing anywhere but on Fred. Now that she's actually in his room and sitting on his bed, she feels desperately nervous; it feels as though the uncertainty in eating her alive. Fred must be able to read how she's feeling from her body language, because when he sits next to her he leaves a respectful couple of inches between them.

"If you change your mind, you know you can let me know at any time, right?" Fred asks, his voice soft as he watches her carefully. "Like I said earlier, if you change your mind there's no hard feelings."

The fact that he was giving her a clear out actually made her relax a little. "I know." She says quietly, still fiddling with her hands out of nerves.  Fred watches her fidget in an amused sort of silence, but makes no move to touch her at all. Marjorie is beginning to second-guess herself, confused about his sudden change in behaviour, before it hits her that he wants her to make the first move. Panic begins to bubble up her throat -- she has no idea what to do. Before she starts spiralling for real, Marjorie decides to just go for it. For once, she was just going to go for it.

Marjorie leans in and kisses Fred full on the mouth, taking both of them by surprise, and immediately regrets it.

Merlin, what was she doing? She doesn't even know how to kiss, she doesn't understand why she thought this would be a good idea. What if she had misread the entire situation? She pulls back to look nervously at Fred's expression, but she doesn't get very far before his hand buries itself into her hair and pulls her back into him. The heat of his mouth against hers and the way his fingers scratch at her scalp make her clench her thighs together, startled by the sudden ache between them.

Fred presses closer, until her breasts are pressed against his chest and his arm winds around her waist to prevent her from toppling back entirely. Head swimming, it's all Marjorie can do to try her best to keep up with Fred's mouth and hope that she wasn't humiliating herself by being a bad kisser. It felt like every nerve in her body was a live wire, hyper-attuned to every single point of contact between herself and Fred; every little press and brush threatened to overwhelm her completely.

When they break apart again, Marjorie's eyes are wide and her breathing is heavy. Fred is in a similar state, but he's grinning as he begins to press little kisses to her jaw. "Wasn't expecting that," He murmurs, lips brushing against her skin and sending little shivers down her spine, "Can't believe George got there first."

Marjorie laughs breathily, still feeling a little dazed. The hand on her waist drops lower, brushing over the swell of her ass but going no further. She knows without him having to say anything that she only needs to say the word for him to back off and slow down, but she's surprised by how much she wants his hands on her.

Fred sits back a little so that he has a better view of her face. "George said you had never been kissed before."

Marjorie's eyes close in a wince. "This is so embarrassing. Is it that obvious?"

"No!" Fred says hastily, brushing a stray bit of hair out of her face, "No, love, that's not what I meant. I just meant- I don't want to go too fast, that's all."

Leaning subtly into the hand that's cupping the curve of her ass, Marjorie breathes, "I don't mind fast."

Fred inhales and then casts his eyes up to the ceiling as though he's searching for patience. "Right." He says, his voice distinctly strained. "Merlin. So- this is okay?"

"Yeah." She whispers as his hand drifts lower. "Very okay."

He laughs quietly against her lips and then kisses her again. This time, Marjorie finds herself sinking back to lay on the bed, Fred following after her the whole time. Things are moving faster than she had expected and she really doesn't know what she's doing, but Fred's hands on her are warm and gentle and his lips are soft and he smells clean and sweet and her head swims in the best way possible every time his fingers skim over her skin.

Somehow, her robes end up hitched around her hips, with Fred slotted comfortably between her thighs as he cradles her head and peppers kisses over her cheeks and nose. One of his hands drifts down to the band of her underwear, but goes no further. He leans back a little so he can look in her face once more. "May I?"

"Yes." Marjorie answers too quickly, barely having any idea what he's asking for. She thinks that she'd agree to anything he asked for in that moment.

A grin breaks across his face, and he moves quicker than she had expected, shoving himself down the bed so that his face is level with her hips. When he pushes her robes up and gets a glimpse of her pink heart-patterned underwear, he closes his eyes and begins to huff quiet laughter. "Cute knickers."

"Shut up!" She shoots up into a sitting position and almost kicks him in the face, mortified.

"Joking!" Fred says hastily, dodging her foot. "They're lovely, really-! Wait, love, seriously-!" He's still laughing, though visibly trying to bite it back.

"Don't look at me!" Marjorie wails, hiding her face.

"But you're so lovely to look at- ow! Shit, okay-" Fred catches her ankle and presses a kiss to her bent knee. "Sorry, darling, really. But if you're that embarrassed by them, you can always take them off."

Despite herself, Marjorie starts to laugh. "You're awful." She says, but relaxes under his hands once more.

Fred grins once more, hooking his fingers into the elastic of her underwear and tugging at it cheekily. He doesn't miss the way that her thighs clench self-consciously. "Alright?"

"Yeah." She breathes, allowing him to settle between her thighs once more. The idea of him seeing her exposed has her squirming in embarrassment, but his expression is clear and excited and completely devoid of any judgement which is enough to have her relaxing under his touch. She's not sure what he's actually trying to do, but she trusts him enough to let him try.

Fred kisses her on the lips once more before ducking his head and kissing the inside of her thigh. Marjorie exhales slowly, shivering a little as his breath ghosts over the sensitive skin of her legs. When his mouth lands on her pussy she jerks and lets out a startled yelp.

"What are you doing!" She blurts, staring wide-eyed at him.

He glances up at her from in between her thighs, and she just knows that he's trying not to laugh. "What do you think I'm doing?" His fingers trace patterns over the soft flesh of her thighs, "Do you not like it?"

"I don't know." Marjorie hedges, squirming under the intensity of his gaze. "Do it again?"

The smile that spreads over Fred's face is sharp and wild, and he buries it back between her legs. Even though she's expecting it this time, a low noise makes its way out of Marjorie's mouth as Fred presses kisses along her outer folds. When his mouth closes around her clit and sucks, Marjorie's hips buck so hard she nearly throws him off the bed entirely.

His low laugh is muffled as his tongue works its way inside of her, but he doesn't give Marjorie even a second to feel embarrassed. He redoubles his efforts, enthusiastic and entirely unashamed of the obscene slurping noises he's making that are causing Marjorie's cheeks to burn. He's so good with his tongue that he's making Marjorie's breath stutter and catch in her chest, her thighs clenching around his head as he laps and suckles at her.

"Oh, oh," Marjorie breathes, eyes round as her hips twitch as though they're unsure whether to push into his mouth or arch away from the onslaught of sensation. She's never felt anything like this before with her own tentative fumbling attempts at masturbation -- Fred is burying his whole face into the wet heat between her legs as though he would happily drown there as he licks and sucks at her, tongue grinding against her clit.

She has enough presence of mind to think, distantly, that she should be embarrassed by her current position. But the hot, wet heat of Fred's mouth against her feels so devastatingly good that the only thing she's actually capable of doing is grinding back up into his face. Her breath starts to come in quick little puffs of air as sweet heat begins to build in her belly, and she bites her lip and raises her head to look down at where Fred is settled comfortably between her thighs. He looks entirely absorbed in what he's doing, his eyes closed as he hums contentedly into her soft flesh. She can't look at him too long, as she gets overwhelmed with embarrassment, so she lets herself flop back against his pillows -- at least he looks to be enjoying himself, letting out soft moans as her works his tongue.

It's all too much and not enough at the same time and Marjorie can barely think, but then Fred reaches under her legs and pulls so that both her thighs are propped over his broad shoulders, leaving her stretched out and exposed for him. He's lucky that her thoughts have gone all fuzzy from how good he's making her feel or she thinks she would have kicked him quite hard out of sheer, mortifying self-consciousness.

Fred mouths along her folds, his teeth grazing and scratching at the sensitive skin just right. That heat is building in her belly, just on the right side of overwhelming, and then Fred slides two long, lithe fingers inside of her and quirks them so that they rub against the spongey area at the front of her inner walls. Marjorie lets out a truly embarrassing sound, her back bowing off the bed before Fred pins her hips back down. His tongue grinds over the bundle of nerves at the top of her folds and she's gone - her thoughts shatter and fracture as she shakes apart, her thighs squeezing around Fred's head.

It feels so good that she barely spares a thought for how she damn near crushes Fred's skull with her legs until he makes an odd little groan into her -- it doesn't sound like a particularly pained groan, however. Rather, he sounds distinctly delighted.

All the same, Marjorie allows her legs to drop. "I'm so sorry!" She gasps, trying to ignore the tremble in her thighs. "Are you alright?"

"Alright?" Fred repeats, his voice raspy and deep and so wrecked that it sends another little shiver down Marjorie's spine. The entire lower half of his face is wet and shiny from her slick and his own spit, and he looks absolutely obscene as he grins. "That was the highlight of my whole year, that was."

"Should I- would you like me to..?" Marjorie trails off, losing her nerve, and can only manage to gesture vaguely at Fred's lower body.

He picks up on her meaning rather quickly, and his smile turns wicked. "What, you wanna touch me back?" He laughs as her face flames red, and leans up to kiss her before she can try to flee the bed out of sheer embarrassment. "I can't tell you how much I'd love your hands on me, darling, but if you're asking because you want to return the favour then you needn't worry."

Needn't worry? Did that mean that he had already-?

"I got a bit carried away," Fred continued, sitting up and straightening his clothes. For the first time, Marjorie noticed that his odd Muggle style trousers were unbuttoned and pushed messily down his hips, revealing pale freckled skin and a shock of startlingly red hair trailing down into his-- she jerked her eyes back up quickly, heart thumping hard in her chest. "You were just so good. How are you feeling?"

Now that the breath-taking euphoria was fading, Marjorie found herself absolutely shocked by herself. Had she really done all those things? Merlin, it was so unlike her!

"Hey," Fred says softly, apparently taking note of the change in her expression. "Don't go panicking on me now, Longbottom."

"Sorry." She breathed, squeezing her legs together. The sudden wave of self-consciousness was near overwhelming. "It- it felt very good. Um, thank you."

Fred stared at her for a very long moment, before pressing his lips together in a tight line. She knew him well enough at this stage to recognise that, once again, he was trying not to laugh. "You don't have to thank me for that, darling. But you're welcome." He reaches out and pulls her robes down so she's decent again, taking the liberty of stroking his hands over the plumpness of her thighs and squeezing gently. The action is so affectionate that Marjorie feels momentarily robbed of breath. "I should be thanking you, really."

It's such a silly thing for him to say that Marjorie laughs. Him, thanking her? She's lucky he so much as looked her way, never mind- never mind do that!

Oblivious, Fred just smiles at her. "You up for meeting George and Lee at The Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer?"

Of course Marjorie agreed. She would have to be mad to pass up a chance to spend more time with the twins. Sure, they were paying attention to her now, but who could say how long that would last?

The entire walk down to Hogsmeade, Marjorie was certain people were staring their way. She kept surreptitiously pulling at her hair to make sure that the ribbon tying it out of her face was still neat and tidy, and straightening out her robes. Was it obvious what she and Fred had been up to? Could everyone tell?

That feeling got worse once they'd finally reached The Three Broomsticks and ducked inside. The whole pub was cozy and snug, and Marjorie stuck close to Fred as he led the way through the hoards of Hogwarts students thronging the place.

"There you are!" She heard Lee Jordan shout, but Fred's broad back was blocking her view of where they were sitting. "We were about to send a bloody search party! What took you so long?"

If Fred answered, then she must have missed it. Instead, as they neared the table, he stepped aside to reveal her trailing after him. The effect was immediate; Lee's mouth dropped as his gaze darts from Fred to Marjorie to George and then back again. George, who had been slumped lazily over their shared table, perked up like an interested cat as soon as he saw her.

"Longbottom!" Lee says, visibly surprised but making a galliant effort to hide it. "Hey! Didn't expect to see you here!"

"Ah, sorry to crash in on you guys like this," She smiles anxiously, fiddling with her sleeve. "I hope it's not a bother."

"It's not a bother, rabbit." George shuffles over to make room for her to sit next to him, and grins at her when she stumbles as she squeezes in beside him.

"I'll go get some more drinks then." Lee claps his hands and stands with a pointed wink at the twins that both boys pretend not to see.

Almost as soon as he's gone, George is leaning in close. "Done avoiding us?"

Marjorie's face erupts in flames, but she thinks she manages to rather heroically school her expression into something resembling neutrality. "Er- yes, I think so."

Fred scoots into the seat that Lee has just vacated, his eyes flicking lazily from Marjorie to his brother. When George makes eye contact with him, they seem to have one of their creepy silent twin conversations. Marjorie wonders, not for the first time, if they are Legilimens or whether their ease of communication comes naturally by virtue of being two halves of the one whole.

Whatever they've managed to communicate between them has clearly left them in good moods; Fred sits back with a self-satisfied grin, and George begins to laugh softly before winding an arm carefully around Marjorie's back. "You look a little flushed, Marjie." He says, tucking a stray bit of hair that had escaped from her ribbon behind her ear.

"Do I?" Marjorie touches her cheeks. They do feel a little heated. Can George tell just by looking at her that she'd had his twin's face between her legs only half an hour ago? Did Fred manage to communicate that in their silent little talk? Is he angry with her? What is he thinking?

"It's cute." George says easily, then turns back around right as Lee arrives back to the table with their drinks.

If Marjorie wasn't flushed before, she certainly is now. The boys settle into a relaxed conversation about Quidditch, and then about their upcoming detention with Professor McGonnagal, and then about their product experimentation. They draw Marjorie into the conversation so casually that it doesn't feel as though she's being forced or coaxed to speak, and they seem to have a sixth sense for when she doesn't wish to speak at all.

Gradually, Marjorie relaxes into the seat and sips leisurely at the butterbeer that Lee has bought for her. It's so comfortable and warm in The Three Broomsticks, and George's fingers are dancing in gentle circles along her back. If she had the choice, she thinks that she would like to stay like this forever.