FORTY

CHEERS TO A NEW YEAR AND ANOTHER
CHANCE FOR US TO GET IT RIGHT
OPRAH WINFREY
CW: sexual content near the end of the chapter

"MERLIN, TOOK your bloody time!"

"Sorry! The shop was fucking heaving."

Aspen and Fred dropped two heavy plastic bags onto the coffee table, fingers florid and trembling from the cold. George and Verity were waiting, cosily cuddled up on the couch with empty glasses resting nearby. Aspen hauled her scarf off, tossing her jacket aside too before ambling towards the kitchen in search of some dishes.

It was New Year's Eve, or as Verity informed them her Scottish grandparents would say, Hogmanay, and the two couples were back in their own space above the flat to celebrate. Aspen and Fred had been sent on a late alcohol run, and in their tipsy state, had managed to collect an array of snacks to keep them occupied as they awaited midnight. The rebirth, George had joked, hoping to inspire some hope into them all, but all Aspen had felt was dread.

"You two still on beer?" Aspen asked, poking her head around the kitchen door to receive her answer in the shape of two vigorous ginger nods.

When she came back, weighed down by two bottles and several bowls, Fred had already placed himself onto the armchair, holding his arms out desperately for her attention. She rolled her eyes, leaving him in helpless waiting as she shifted bags of crisps and miscellaneous sweets into the bowls, taking on the role as host even though the house was not her own.

"I wonder what the girls are up to right now," Aspen said absentmindedly as she relaxed back into Fred's lap, resting her head against his shoulder.

Alessia and Ginny were still staying at the Burrow, keeping Molly and Arthur company inside their otherwise insanity-inducing house. As of late, it was so quiet you could hear the gnomes outside crystal clear, as if they'd smashed through the glass and crawled through the windows inside. Quiet was not a Weasley trait.

"Merlin, you're like a woman possessed!" Fred said, and pulled his girlfriend tighter in his embrace. "I'm starting to think you think about my sister and Alessia more than me!"

"Oi, careful mate," George quipped, thumb swirling against the condensation on his beer glass absentmindedly. "You might be offended by that answer."

Aspen rolled her eyes, nudging Fred lightly in the ribs.

"Fuck off," she huffed, although the smile on her lips made it plain she hadn't taken it to heart. "I just wonder is all! It is nice to have some adult time, though."

The boys chuckled childishly, likely at the unfortunate phrasing on Aspen's part, but it distracted her from her curiosity all the same. In their absence, Verity and George had cracked open the record player, and Simon and Garfunkel was playing softly over the speakers. Kathy's Song was playing, drifting around the room like a warm hug, but Fred decided quickly to stomp on the tranquility.

"Lads, it's New Year's Eve, not a funeral," he huffed, waving his wand to levitate the needle off of the record. "What's with all this slow shite?"

Verity groaned, having been peacefully enjoying the gentle thrum of the guitar in her ears until Fred had ripped it away suddenly. Much to Aspen's dismay, he'd shimmied her off of his lap, abandoning the armchair to survey the collection of records in the corner, hoping for something more upbeat.

"This one's good, right, Pen?" he asked, holding up the familiar black cover of A Day at the Races.

"Nice to know he values our opinion too, eh?" George joked, rolling his eyes as he stretched to wrap his arm around Verity, the flat surface of his palm resting on the slice of exposed stomach peeking out below her shirt.

Verity snorted, still peeved Fred had interjected her choice, but with a satisfied nod from Aspen, he stuck the record on anyway, letting the familiar crackle invade them.

"It's alright, V," Aspen reassured her as Fred came back, throwing himself down in her lap much to her disapproval. Shoving him onto the rug beneath them, she continued. "Drowse is one of your favourites, anyway."

"Another slow one! And I thought you were meant to be cool, Verity," Fred teased — all that training as an elder sibling had meant he was rather good at it, if Verity's frustration was anything to go by.

George's grip on his girlfriend's waist tightened as she made to get up, and Aspen laughed as Fred's eyes widened. He ducked swiftly behind the arm of the chair as Verity instead reached for her wand, fingers wrapping around the wood tautly.

"Aspen, you'd better shut your boyfriend up if you like him having his bollocks intact!"

Aspen and George doubled over, hysterical laughter bouncing around the room as Verity launched a cushion towards the elder twin's head, missing narrowly and smacking it against the wall instead. Aspen's belly ached from the exertion, the welcome sort of pain that you never want to end in fear you'd never feel it again. Even better, the whole battle was playing out to the epic sound of Brian May's guitar solo amidst Tie Your Mother Down.

"Truce! Truce!" Fred yelled from beneath the coffee table, where he'd foolishly attempted to take refuge after a narrow miss of Rictumsempra. "I take it back!"

"Fucking pathetic, Fred," George said, grinning ear to ear at the sight of his girlfriend, her wand in his brother's face menacingly.

"Go get another bottle of wine, Freddie," she said gleefully, before dropping back in between George's legs, faintly winded but victorious all the same.

Aspen watched as he trudged through to the kitchen, returning with a bottle of red clutched between his fingers, a jokey frown painted on his lips.

"You play dirty, Morgan," he complained, pouring wine into her empty glass like a diligent waiter. "If I'd known that when I hired you..."

"I'm pretty sure I hired her, actually," George interjected as Fred trekked back to his seat, topping up Aspen's glass while he was there.

"Do you two just hire girls you fancy or something?" Aspen teased, standing to let Fred sit first before perching back against his lap once more.

There was a moment's silence as they considered it. Not one of the four of them had really given it much thought before, never finding the idea of the store's four main colleagues dating an obscurity. Still, realising it then, all together and inebriated, was beyond comical, and the laughter that had only just dissipated rose again like bubbles to the water's surface.

"Christ, you two are probably committing some sort of Muggle crime!" Verity hollered between giggles, teeth glinting in the dim light. "Seducing your employees!"

"Good thing we're not Muggles then," Fred quipped, dipping his head to indulge Aspen in a fervent kiss. He was acting up for the sake of the joke, more passionate than they ever were in public, but Aspen still tugged away after only a moment, cheeks red with embarrassment.

Still, George and Verity didn't seem to mind, especially not given their unfortunate track record. Aspen settled back into her boyfriend's arms, sipping copiously at her wine as the song on the record player switched again.

Time passed them by then, drifting away endlessly like a log down a whirring stream. By the time midnight approached, dancing before them tauntingly, they were all more than drenched in the embrace of alcohol, and accordingly, had moved onto the stronger stuff.

Positions had changed — the boys were both on the couch, and the girls sat below them on the floor, nestled between their knees and heads lolling back in their laps. They'd previously gotten up to dance, and had fallen down in breathless defeat at the climax of Somebody to Love, failing to redirect themselves somewhere comfier since.

"Five minutes," Verity said sleepily, her eyes already beginning to droop despite the squiffy smile on her lips.

"Can't believe it'll be nineteen-ninety-eight," Aspen hummed, brushing a indulgent kiss against the side of Fred's thigh when the others weren't looking.

Fred shuddered at the sensation, vague as it was through the material of his trousers. Delicately, he scraped his fingers through her hair to massage her scalp, short fingernails dragging across her skin so delightfully it gave her goosebumps

"Makes me feel well old," George quipped, and noticing his girlfriend's sleepy state, helped her up into his lap to make her fatigue a comfier sensation.

"You? What does that make me?" Aspen joked, tucking her legs up beneath her comfortably.

"Absolutely fucking ancient," Fred interjected before ducking down to press his lips against her. The drunker he got, the more desperately he craved her touch, it seemed. "I'm only joking, love. Twenty-three's not that bad."

She'd have slapped him if it weren't for the occasion. Verity, suddenly a little more chipper, perked up, back straightening as she pointed to the clock that mounted the adjacent wall. The seconds hand was ticking closer and closer to midnight, perhaps only thirty seconds or so to go.

"Is everyone's glass charged?" she asked excitedly, always the one to brighten at the sign of a celebration.

The three held up their tumblers of Firewhisky, only half full but good enough in their hazy states. Aspen lifted herself into the space in the couch, sitting between three of her closest friends in all the world. As the clock ticked down, reaching its final ten second sprint to the finish line, she only wished the others she considered family — Tonks, Andromeda and Ted, Ginny, Alessia — could be there with them too.

"Five! Four! Three! Two! One!"

"Happy New Year!"

Outside they could hear fireworks, exploding at once and then splintering off against the night's dark blanket into sprays of vibrant technicolour. Had the curtains not been shut, they'd have seen it too, but they could all imagine it well, especially when kissing the one you loved felt much the same way.

Aspen against Fred was electric, melding together synchronously as the New Year welcomed them in with open arms. Their lips danced a minuet, slow and elegant as they lost themselves in a world of their own. They could have stayed there for hours, a solitary party for two, had it not been for the heavy slap against Fred's shoulder that jolted them apart dramatically.

"Happy New Year, mate!" George called, standing from the sofa to pull both Fred and Aspen into brotherly embraces.

They lifted their glasses, all stood in a perfect circle now, and clinked the rims together. George took ownership of the toast, which they'd all known was more than obligatory given the circumstances.

"To the Order, to the one's we love and the one's we've lost," he paused, perhaps for dramatic effect, and let a wolfish grin overwhelm the solemn expression he'd been sporting before. "And to defeating that dirty great git and his band of bloody dickheads in the year to come!"

They cheered, loud voices drowning out the violent boom of sparks soaring outside, and then they drank. Aspen chugged down the whole glassful far easier than she would have if she was sober, letting the warm liquid trickle down her throat to join the rest in her full belly.

"To nineteen-ninety-eight," Fred said, wrapping an arm around Aspen's waist snugly. "The best year of our lives yet."

Oh, and how they drank to celebrate it. By two in the morning, they were still going strong, although Verity was deeply tired and practically snoozing in George's arms as Aspen and Fred performed a perverse version Prince's Kiss that had their one man audience shaking with disturbed laughter.

"Right, that's enough," George called at the end of their performance. "It's definitely bed time."

Verity hummed in somnolent agreement, but George struggled all the same to lift her up and towards the bedroom, stumbling all over the place on his way.

"About time they were gone," Fred said, and with his arms wrapped around her, placed his hands lower than she was used to, inducing a yelp of surprise.

"Fred!" she squealed, cutting herself off with a laugh that soon died against his lips as she leant up on her tiptoes.

"Did I ever tell you how gorgeous you look tonight?" he asked in between eager kisses, his fingers dancing along the waistband of her low-cut sweatpants. "Irresistible, actually."

"You're drunk, Weasley," she interjected, stumbling over her own words as she relented to his kisses nonetheless. "And we're in the living room."

"S'never stopped you before," he teased, and in seconds, had swept her up into his strong arms, her legs wrapped around his waist loosely.

As much as Aspen's merry brain would try to convince her it was a bad idea, Fred's touch was always enough to persuade her to give in. In no time at all, he'd carried her to the couch, sinking back into the cushions as she straddled him easily.

"Fuck, I want you," he groaned softly as she pressed into him just right, her lips falling to caress the smooth skin of his neck.

"You always want me," she teased in response, enjoying having the upper-hand for once.

"Especially just now," he retorted, and in seconds, he'd lifted her t-shirt up and over her head, leaving her bare chest susceptible to the slight chill of the apartment. "Fuck, you're so perfect."

Fred's hands, rough from years of Cleansweep handles and order form paper cuts, brushed across her chest, eliciting a sharp moan that was quickly muffled by his palm. From the pleased glint in his eye, it was evident he was taking back control of the situation, even from her exceptional view on top.

"You're going to have to be quiet for me, sweetheart," he murmured softly, spare hand dipping down across her stomach towards her waistband again. "Think we can go without the silencing charm for once?"

She nodded hurriedly, noting that their wands were too far to reach regardless. Fred was challenging her purposefully, and the spark in her belly was telling her perhaps she could have fun with it too. Drunk with courage, she slipped off of his lap, onto her knees and let her fingers work down the thick material of his jeans.

"Oh fuck," he said, and Aspen watched his eyes, wide as saucers, dart towards their wands, lying isolated atop of the coffee table. Evidently, someone was living to eat his words.

Aspen had always thought herself rather good with her hands, her mouth, and with Fred's reactions, the harsh tug of his fingers threading through her hair, it was clear she'd underestimated her ability. Fred was seeing stars, head tipped back and mouth agape at the feeling. She could bring him to the edge, but the early morning confidence was getting to her head, and she reeled back just as his breathing expedited, his grip on her curls tightened.

"Not so fast," she teased, licking her lips as she sat back on her heels, eyes turned up gleefully.

"You're such a fucking tease, d'you know that?" he asked, and when she simply smirked, he leant over to kiss her firmly. "Don't think you'll get off with it that easily."

Just like that, Aspen had blindingly lost control, giving in to the weakest of her inhibitions. Fred had backed her onto the sofa, and unbelievably quickly, her sweatpants had joined his on the floor. It was his turn to kneel now, his cold hands shocking against the warmth of her thighs as he eased them apart.

"What're you doing?" she asked, a sharpness to her voice although she had already relaxed back into place.

"Impatient, aren't we?" he teased, hooking his hands behind her knees to haul her closer to him. Suddenly, she could feel his breath on her, hot and wet against where she needed him so desperately.

"Fuck you," she whined desperately, trying to tug him closer with her heels although he was able to sneakily avoid her regardless.

"If only, eh?"

Was that what heaven felt like? If it wasn't, Aspen was certain it would be just like it, dangling over a blissful precipice as she watched over him, absolutely ravenous for her. Curling inside of her was an ever-growing firework, twisting and twirling, tantalisingly alight as she gasped for desperate air, lost for words and struggling to hold them in all at once.

"I— Fred! I'm—"

And then, eyes squeezed shut, there was nothing. The feeling subsided, and what had once consumed her was spitting her back out again, leaving her a flailing, flustered mess.

"All's fair in love and war," he teased, pulling himself to his feet and away from her. Still, his eyes never left her, staring at her sprawled out for him atop of the scarlet cushions.

"You call that fair?" she huffed, legs too shaky to stand.

"I'll make it up to you, how about that?"

Fred Weasley would perhaps make a rather fantastic model, Aspen thought, as he stripped himself of his t-shirt, adding it to the growing pile of the clothes on the floor. The vague outline of muscles were pulled taut as he moved, a smooth, freckled firmness that pulled itself across his chest and arms. There, taking him in so easily, she wondered how she'd gotten so lucky.

He knelt before her again, but this time not on the floor. Rather, his knees were nestled beneath her thighs, digging into the plush sofa cushions as he positioned himself against her, lips halting against hers for just an extended moment. She pressed her spine against the sofa back, leaning back to take in the sight of him.

"How's this?" he asked, forehead pressed against hers as he spoke. "Okay?"

Merlin, she could taste the Firewhisky against his skin, smell the desire clinging to him like syrup. The lights were still on, casting dim shadows across his rippling skin, and she observed every movement like it would be his last, as if she needed to drink every part of him in to truly remember it. The likelihood was that she wouldn't — this would be another blurred memory amidst the scrapbook of her brain, one stamped especially with a blinding hot surge of bliss and Fred's smiling face all in one.

"Definitely okay," she agreed, and no sooner had the words left her lips, she felt the desperate ache in her abdomen fulfilled.

Fred must have known her better than she'd have supposed, because the second her lips fell apart, ready to let him hear just how wonderfully he'd succeeded, his right hand cupped over her mouth, eyeing her almost sternly. She'd forgotten where they were, the circumstances, too mesmerised by the scenario and its inhabitants.

"Remember what I said, hm?" he said softly, hips grinding slowly against her, pestle and mortar. "You have to stay quiet for me, sweetheart. Don't want to get caught and have anyone see you such a mess for me, do you?"

His words fizzled in her brain like a livewire, sizzling inside of her so fiery she thought it certain she'd combust. She dug her fingernails into his biceps, seeking something to ground her, but it only served to spur him on, and suddenly she could feel him driving into her further. Her moans were slow mountains, rising up into the air until they reached their blunt peaks, leaving nothing but the remembrance of them below.

"So good for me," Fred grunted into her ear, his head lowered into the nape of her neck as he worked tirelessly against her. "Are you gonna let go, sweetheart?"

How could she deny him such a polite request? Her muffled release, in which she'd sheltered her lips in the supple skin of his shoulder, seemed to trigger his own, and within only moments, they were both lying back against the couch, spent and satisfied in each other's arms.

There was perfect silence, only penetrated by the occasional sound of drunkards racing around the street below, loud laughter only half as joyful as Fred and Aspen were together. His arms were around her, their bare chests nestled together snuggly, and he drew aleatory circles against the thick skin of her bicep, sending shivers down her spine. They would likely have fallen asleep that way had Fred not jostled them awake, the tinkle of his laughter gripping Aspen's attention.

"What is it?" she asked, smiling up at him timidly.

"Just thinking," Fred said, certainly amused by his own imagination. "George and Verity have to sit on this couch tomorrow."

"You're gross!" she complained, but her laughter was surely enough to rival her comment and perhaps even wake the whole household.

Grabbing their clothes and wands, they flicked the lights off and darted down the hallway towards their bedroom, living for the freedom and the sheer joy that was so rare these days. They were up well into the morning, but who was to stop them?

Undoubtedly, nineteen-ninety-eight was off to an unbeatable start.