The first time I saw him, he was watching me like a hawk. I slid down beside Fleur as my Beauxbatons friends filed onto the Ravenclaw benches, and I could feel eyes on me. 

I looked up to see this devilishly handsome boy my age, fiery hair, dark brown eyes, and the faintest grin on his face, eyeing me up and down. I shivered, then got myself together. Yeah, this dude's hot - but so am I. 

I was feeling like a bit of a tease that day, so I pulled out my half-Veela charm and flashed a charismatic smile at this attractive red-head. His eyes widened slightly, and his cocky little grin faded; his jaw dropped open, and I was about to smirk at him when his Headmaster started speaking, and I was forced to look away.

- 

"I'm about to be the youngest businessman in the wizarding industry!" The attractive red-head called out as I was showing off my Veela ability to some Ravenclaws. Him and his twin were passing by, and he'd clearly got hit by my charm. That's amusing. 

"I'm gonna open my own joke shop and be a Galleonaire!" 

"Fred!" The boy's twin hissed, snickering, and he pulled him away down the corridor, 'Fred' looking back over his shoulder at me. 

- 

"My father doesn't like troublemaker boys like you." I said. 

Fred was showing me a Canary Cream, pointing out his classmate who was now a mass of feathers. 

He grinned at me. That lopsided grin was doing things to me, and I looked away as I felt my heart fluttering. Damn. He's really hot. 

"Why not? Why does the dear Minister for Magic not like a class clown?" 

"He thinks boys like you are trouble and will take advantage of my innocence." I said, a hint of sarcasm in my voice. 

"Oh, my." Fred said, equally as sarcastic. "Your dad really is a stuck up prat, isn't he?" 

"Yeah." I agreed, turning back to him. "He is." 

Our eyes connected. The first-task dragon attacking Fleur swept past us, and the feathers on Fred's classmate ruffled violently in the resulting wind. Fred bit his lip. 

"You're gorgeous." 

"I know." 

- 

"Summer Fudge... will you go to the Yule Ball with me?" Fred asked, bowing deeply with a mischievous grin. 

"What would my father say?" I grinned, taking his outstretched hand. 

"Fuck what your father says." The red-head rolled his eyes. 

"Godric, say that more. It turns me on." I giggled, and Fred smirked at me. 

"I take it that's a yes, then?" 

- 

Fred Weasley gaped at my breasts, practically drooling, as I regarded him with amusement. His eyes were wide but dark, roaming all over my cleavage without shame. 

"My father wouldn't like you looking at me like that, Weasley." 

His eyes rose slowly up to mine, and a small smirk toyed at the edges of his mouth. "Fuck what your father says." 

"You're making me weak in the knees." I informed him. 

"I hope you'll be saying the same later." Fred smirked fully, his eyes dropping back to my chest. I cocked my head at him, feigning innocence. 

"Whatever do you mean?" I said. 

Fred simply continued to smirk, and offered me his arm as the other students flowed into the Great Hall. I took it, and we swept into the hall together, other students pointing at us and whispering. 

"Wow, Fred Weasley managed to score a serious hot piece of ass!" 

"I'm so jealous of her, he's so hot!" 

"Is that Fred Weasley with the Minister for Magic's daughter?" 

Fred offered me his hand, bowing slightly, that kinda-hot smirk still lingering on his face. "Care to join me for a dance, m'lady?" 

I giggled, taking it. He spun me around and settled a hand on my waist, and I put my other hand on his shoulder, subconsciously drawing him closer. His hair flopped into his face slightly as we danced slowly, closer and closer, our chests pressed tight against each other. 

"You look so good tonight." Fred whispered huskily into my ear. I swayed with him, smirking. 

"I know." 

I was in the sluttiest ballgown I could find. My father wouldn't like this dress. And I knew it when I picked it out. 

The lacy top was very low-cut, exposing a lot of cleavage. The soft, pastel pink material clung to my hips, and my hair was curled to perfection. It was pinned back from my neck, exposing my soft skin to him. Fred's eyes were practically glued to me. His hand cupped my waist. He leaned down and captured my lips in a passionate, hot kiss. 

- 

"Quick! Come on!" 

We were both giggling, both buzzed from what Fred and his twin had sneaked into the Ball. Fred was tugging on my hand, pulling me up the endless flights of stairs up to Gryffindor Tower. I stumbled on my dress more than once; Fred swept me up as I stumbled for the latest time, up into his arms, and he carried me up the final flight, chuckled something at the portrait, which swung open, the rather plump painted lady shaking her head disapprovingly at him, and he clambered inside, staggering across the common room and up another flight of stairs, kicking open a door and depositing me on a four-poster bed. 

It was surprisingly nicely made; the sheets were fresh, and something smelled nice in the air. 

"I thought your bed, and your living space in general, would be messier." I told him, a sly grin unfolding on my face. 

Fred grinned back, falling on top of me. "I cleaned up just for you." 

"How did you know we would be coming up here?" I said, my mouth dropping open. "Are you a Seer?" 

Fred chuckled. "I'm not a Seer, but I can see myself under your dress." 

I gasped. "Fred Weasley, you naughty boy. Get under there immediately." 

Fred smirked down at me lazily. "No foreplay? You just want me to stick my -" 

I yanked him down, connecting our lips. Our lips moved together enthusiastically and sloppily, Fred's hands drifting down my body. I couldn't tell you how long we lay there, Fred on top of me, his lips on mine, his tongue in my mouth, his hands on my breasts, my sides, my hips - 

Fred kissed down my neck, down my chest, stopping to suck a hickey into my right breast, as I moaned breathily beneath him. He slid down my body until he reached my hips, gathering up my skirts and pushing them up. I spread my legs, panting, my face flushed and eyes darkened. He looked the same as me, only he was licking his lips, and when he lowered his head, I moaned louder than I ever had in my life. 

Fred licked me softly, gently at first, but as I grabbed his hair and threw my head back, he groaned in response, and licked harder and faster, targeting the part of me that made my toes curl, until I was about to explode, panting, moaning, gasping; he stopped. 

"Fuck, Freddie, stick your tongue back in me." I demanded, my cheeks pink and hair messed up. "I was just about to come!" 

My lover glanced up at me, his pupils blown, his hair more messed up than mine. He licked his lips again, and he crawled up my body as his chin dripped. 

"Fuck..." I breathed as he wiped his face with the back of his hand, swiping the corners of his mouth with his tongue, and propped himself up, his arms on either side of my face. 

"Do you want this?" Fred said, his voice rough. I gazed up into his darkened eyes, and nodded. 

"Need to hear you say it." 

"I want you." I whined, and Fred cursed, pulling off his blazer, tossing it on the ground, and unbuttoning his dress trousers, pulling down the zipper. He fumbled with yanking his bottoms down, before just kicking them off, pushing the skirts of my dress further up around my hips, and pushing into me. 

"O-Ouch!" I yelped, and Fred paused. 

"You okay?" He said, biting his lip, hard. 

"I-I-I'm fine..." I winced as I got used to him, shifting my hips a bit. "I'm a virgin -" 

"Me too." Fred grinned, shifting his hips slightly too. I moaned, a sound that I didn't willingly make, and Fred's grin faded, his gaze slowly drifting down my body. 

"You can continue now..." I breathed, reaching up his shirt and grabbing onto his muscled back. From what he had told me, Fred had played a lot of Quidditch. And I can definitely feel his athleticism under my fingertips. 

Fred swore again, one of his hands on my hip, and he sunk into me. I took a shuddering breath as he filled me; I wrapped my legs around him, and he groaned, starting a steady pace in and out of me. 

The pleasure was overwhelming; I clung onto the hot boy above me, who was groaning, biting his lip, his eyes fluttering closed every time he sunk fully into me. I dug my nails into his back every time he grazed my g-spot, and it wasn't long until I was letting go around him, leading to his climax too. We held each other as close as we physically could as we came together, my hole squeezing around him, him groaning low and long into my ear. 

- 

Fuck. When did my hand get down my pants? Remembering my first time really gets me going. But ever since my dad told me that he was transferring me from Beauxbatons to Hogwarts for my final year, I couldn't stop thinking about that funny red-haired boy that took my heart... and, well, my virginity. 

Would he still be there? I knew he had plans with his brother about leaving and running a joke shop. Would he still be as hot as shit? He's probably hotter.  Would he remember me? 

Well... I hope so. Because I definitely remember him. 

"Summer! We're leaving! Now!" 

I sighed at the sound of my dad's yell from downstairs. We had had many arguments about my transfer, but he cleared it anyway. Having a Minister for Magic as a father really does suck sometimes. And now we're heading for the Hogwarts Express for my first day at my new school. 

I washed my hands in my en-suite sink, remembering our arguments before. He didn't believe that Lord Voldemort was back from the dead, and as a result he now held a certain distaste for Dumbledore, the headmaster of Fred's school. So he had set up one of his Ministry officials there as a professor to keep an eye on things, y'know, to make sure there was no disobedience or rebellion against the Ministry from the students. Or the staff. Or anyone, really. My dad was really paranoid. 

And a bit of a coward. Everyone at Beauxbatons believed Harry Potter and Dumbledore. Fleur was even telling anyone who would listen on our way back from the Triwizard Tournament that she wished she could have been there with Harry and Cedric Diggory when they faced Voldemort. 

And so, now that my dad had had his way at Hogwarts, he wanted to send me there. 

I found myself wondering what Fred thought about the whole thing as I wandered downstairs with my luggage. I knew his little brother was best friends with Harry Potter. I wonder if that meant that he believed him by default? 

"About time, the train'll be leaving by the time we get there at this rate!" Dad blustered, taking my luggage and ushering me towards the town car parked outside. My wavy chocolate hair, the same colour as my eyes that I had inherited from my mother, blew into my face, and I spluttered. My mother swept past us and into the car, sitting in the seat beside mine, gesturing for me to sit with a smile. I gave in, smiling back as I slid in beside her, shutting the door as my dad loaded my trunk into the boot with the help of the chauffeur. 

My mother was a Veela, and her white-gold hair fanned out beautifully behind her, even inside the car. I grumpily regarded my own hair, messy now from the wind, and brushed it back from my face. The car started moving; my mother turned to me with a pleasant smile. 

"So how are your friends Jordan and Maxine, darling?" 

She used her charm to relax me during the trip to King's Cross, and even though I knew what she doing and how she was messing with my head, I didn't call her out on it. I knew she disagreed with my father's ridiculous political tactics, though she kept quiet about it. 

And now, standing at Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, I felt my insides shaking with nerves. Will the handsome boy who took my virginity be on the other side of that wall? 

My mother hugged me, and my father did the same, pausing to whisper in my ear, "You'll be fine, dear. Remember what I told you earlier. No messing around, keep your head down, and study well. And for goodness sake's, if you absolutely have to find a boyfriend, find a studious, sensible Prefect or someone who plays Quidditch but doesn't cause trouble. A nice masculine man who understands what it MEANS to be a man. Now, go on, dear; you'll be late." 

I rolled my eyes as my father puffed his chest out, settling his bowler hat back on top of his brown locks, and stepped forward into the wall with my trunk. 

I came out onto a platform crowded with people, steam, and shrieking pets. The din and mass of people were grating at my brain and causing sensory overload, and I wrestled my way through the throng towards the bright red train. 

But I stopped in my tracks once I reached an opening in the crowd. 

A large family of red-heads were huddled together, a short, plump, motherly woman bustling around them all, handing out small bags and random items, unzipping trunks and unzipping them back up again. Two taller boys had their backs to me; I gasped quietly against my will. 

"Hey, Fred, George!" Someone yelled behind me. The twins turned. 

Fred was just as handsome as I remembered him, his hair cut shorter, his cheekbones and jawline slightly more defined, a lopsided grin on his face. But then he caught my eye. 

His grin faded, but something changed in his eyes. He gazed at me, and I gazed back. It was like the whole world around us had faded away. His twin was elbowing him, asking him something, but he didn't turn away, didn't break the eye contact. His family were all turning to him, his mother prodding him in the arm; someone brushed past me, but neither of us turned away. 

Then, a smile started to unfold on my face. And a bright, beaming smile unfolded on his. 

Fred Weasley is not a studious, sensible Prefect, or someone that plays Quidditch but doesn't cause trouble. He isn't a nice masculine man who understands what it means to be misogynistic. My father definitely would not approve. 

But, like this hot boy told me less than a year ago... fuck what my father says.