A Shade of a Kiss
Title: A Shade of a Kiss
Rating: R
Word Count: 500
Characters: Fred Weasley, Angelina Johnson
Summary: For this was as much an "I'm sorry," as it was "Goodbye."
Notes:
Originally Posted: hp_humpdrabbles
All Hallows' Eve, the time when the fabric of the mortal and spirit worlds thinned. The time when Fred could finally make his transition. He wasn't a true ghost. He didn't want to stick around for all eternity and he certainly wasn't afraid of what may lay beyond. As the clock struck thirteen and the witching hour officially began, Fred filled his lungs with unneeded breath, sweet with the promise of rain.
In the months he'd been watching, he'd seen the pieces of his life shatter and slowly start to rebuild. George was finding comfort at the bottom of the bottle -- never a good idea, brother -- but it would be okay, eventually. Charlie would pull him out, with a surprisingly helpful Percy right along side. While his brothers meant the world, there was one who meant the universe. His Dark Lady. His Angel.
The room was still as he entered. Dark. But that mattered little. Sitting on the bed, he watched Angelina sleep. Why was she not out, as was her due, on a celebration night such as this? Or did she know he would come? He sat and he watched, taking unnecessary breaths, trying to remember what it was like with her.
Closing his eyes, Fred recalled the times spent between the sheets. Flesh against flesh, dancing a heated tango only they knew the steps to. He reached out to brush a finger over deceptively soft skin, but he went through her like air, raising goose pimples across her skin. Reminding him that he was nothing more than a memory, a simple shade of one's past self.
The thought made him frown as he lay on his side. Blue eyes pulsed brighter as he concentrated on what made him human. Covert glances and secretive touches. The night after the Yule Ball. The night he showed her exactly what his mouth was good for. Fred reached out again.
Angelina jolted awake, the air in her bedroom much chillier than normal. She swallowed a scream as she stared into familiar blue eyes, sad, though they carried the familiar hint that mischief was afoot. "Fred?" she whispered, unsure if he could speak or if it was a figment of an itch that needed scratching. (Though to be fair, if that was the case, her Weasley would appear in far less than jeans and a jumper.)
He nodded, feeling himself get a little bit stronger, a little bit brighter, as she acknowledged him. Almost human.
Closing the gap between the two, his lips pressed against hers. Angelina had to fight against the shiver that made its way up her spine, lest she be teased about how wet he made her, even if it was the truth. Their shape and their taste were achingly familiar and she couldn't even try to stifle the gasp of Fred.
Fred leaned into her warmth, pouring everything he felt into this kiss. Words were useless, for this was as much an "I'm sorry," as it was "Goodbye."
Rating: R
Word Count: 500
Characters: Fred Weasley, Angelina Johnson
Summary: For this was as much an "I'm sorry," as it was "Goodbye."
Notes:
Originally Posted: hp_humpdrabbles
All Hallows' Eve, the time when the fabric of the mortal and spirit worlds thinned. The time when Fred could finally make his transition. He wasn't a true ghost. He didn't want to stick around for all eternity and he certainly wasn't afraid of what may lay beyond. As the clock struck thirteen and the witching hour officially began, Fred filled his lungs with unneeded breath, sweet with the promise of rain.
In the months he'd been watching, he'd seen the pieces of his life shatter and slowly start to rebuild. George was finding comfort at the bottom of the bottle -- never a good idea, brother -- but it would be okay, eventually. Charlie would pull him out, with a surprisingly helpful Percy right along side. While his brothers meant the world, there was one who meant the universe. His Dark Lady. His Angel.
The room was still as he entered. Dark. But that mattered little. Sitting on the bed, he watched Angelina sleep. Why was she not out, as was her due, on a celebration night such as this? Or did she know he would come? He sat and he watched, taking unnecessary breaths, trying to remember what it was like with her.
Closing his eyes, Fred recalled the times spent between the sheets. Flesh against flesh, dancing a heated tango only they knew the steps to. He reached out to brush a finger over deceptively soft skin, but he went through her like air, raising goose pimples across her skin. Reminding him that he was nothing more than a memory, a simple shade of one's past self.
The thought made him frown as he lay on his side. Blue eyes pulsed brighter as he concentrated on what made him human. Covert glances and secretive touches. The night after the Yule Ball. The night he showed her exactly what his mouth was good for. Fred reached out again.
Angelina jolted awake, the air in her bedroom much chillier than normal. She swallowed a scream as she stared into familiar blue eyes, sad, though they carried the familiar hint that mischief was afoot. "Fred?" she whispered, unsure if he could speak or if it was a figment of an itch that needed scratching. (Though to be fair, if that was the case, her Weasley would appear in far less than jeans and a jumper.)
He nodded, feeling himself get a little bit stronger, a little bit brighter, as she acknowledged him. Almost human.
Closing the gap between the two, his lips pressed against hers. Angelina had to fight against the shiver that made its way up her spine, lest she be teased about how wet he made her, even if it was the truth. Their shape and their taste were achingly familiar and she couldn't even try to stifle the gasp of Fred.
Fred leaned into her warmth, pouring everything he felt into this kiss. Words were useless, for this was as much an "I'm sorry," as it was "Goodbye."