The party was loud.

Laughter, music, butterbeer bottles clinking—but you barely heard any of it. Your eyes had landed on one thing and one thing only. Fred.

Leaning against the wall, talking to some girl you didn’t even recognize. She was smiling up at him, twirling a bit of her hair around her finger, and he was grinning like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

You saw it before you even realized you were staring. The way he leaned in. The way she laughed a little too loudly. The way his eyes flicked to her mouth.

And that was it.

You pushed through the crowd and walked straight toward them, stopping just a few feet away.

“Seriously?” you said, loud enough to cut through her giggle.

Fred looked over, and his smirk deepened like he’d been waiting for this.

“Give us a moment, would you?” he said to the girl without even glancing at her again. She blinked, clearly surprised, but walked off—though not without looking you up and down first.

Fred turned to you, completely unbothered. “Hi, love.”

You ignored the greeting. “What the hell was that?”

Fred just smiled, easy and infuriating. “What?”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” you shot back. “You were flirting with her.”

His head tilted slightly, studying you — like he wasn’t listening to your words at all, just watching your face. “Were you watching me?”

“Fred—”

“You’re mad,” he said, grinning now. “Jealous, even.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “You think this is funny?”

“I think,” he said, stepping closer, “you look ridiculously good when you’re jealous.”

You opened your mouth — to argue, to yell, to say something that would wipe that smug expression off his face —but then his hand slid to your waist.

And then he kissed you.

Hard. Certain. Like he meant it.

His other hand came up to cradle your jaw, holding you in place like he didn’t care who saw, like none of the noise around you mattered at all. His mouth moved against yours like he knew exactly how to kiss you — deep and warm and a little bit reckless, until all you could do was melt into him and kiss him back.

You didn’t even realize your fingers had curled into the front of his shirt until you pulled him closer, chasing his mouth, matching every bit of that energy he was giving you.

By the time he pulled away, you were breathless.

So was he.

And that damn smirk was back.

“Knew it’d work.” he murmured, voice low and smug.

Your mouth parted. “You did that on purpose?”

He shrugged again, infuriatingly pleased with himself. “Can’t help it. You’re hot when you’re mad.”