I haven't updated anything in a long time. Sorry.

Life's been weird here, and I'm finally almost done with school. Well. Almost.

Anyway, all of my stories are going through an editing process in which I'm pretty much rewriting all of the stories I have posted. Wild Girl has some new perspective and better exposition. The Butcher, The Baker, and the Extendable Ear Maker now has an Austen-inspired narrator. The Department of Mysteries series, I think, might be abandoned in the near future.

So, if there's so much I'm rewriting, why post a new story?

Well, I wanted to, for one. This is going to be short, fluffy, and fun, as opposed to the bloody seriousness of Wild Girl and the "early novel" feel of Butcher… . This is pretty much just getting me focused and not have writer's block so I can work on everything else.

This story is AU, a few years after the war, eventual Fred W./OC.

Also, this is rated M. For reasons that will be instantly obvious.

Thank you so much for reading, and enjoy! –alienoctopus

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Charlie Weasley felt his body melt into his mattress as he came inside the fit bird grinding on top of him. She moaned enthusiastically and, in a moment, landed on the mattress next to him.

"That was a good workout, Charlie." She said, trying to catch her breath.

"You're telling me. Merlin, Ivy. Where'd you learn to fuck like that?"

"I feel like you say that every time."

"Maybe it's just that good every time."

"I think it is." The girl—Ivy—planted her feet on the ground but remained seated on Charlie's old bed. Her breasts lifted with each inhale. "I wish we could smoke in here." She said, pulling her bra onto he shoulders.

"Well, then, we should have shagged at yours and not my mum's." Charlie said matter of factly.

"But this was so convenient. And you know that because it was secret, it was loads more fun."

"Ivy, we've been doing this in secret for, what, four years?"

Ivy smiled. She pulled her dark auburn hair into a long ponytail. "Well, it has to be secret. Otherwise your mum's going to go bonkers. She'll want us to get married."

"How come we've never tried that?"

"Marriage? Charlie, we've talked about this. This," she pointed to Charlie then back to herself, "is just fun. We have no romantic intention. We just like a good shag now and then."

Ivy stood up and looked at herself in Charlie's bedroom mirror. She rubbed smudged make-up from her eyes.

"Oh, I look horrid. I'm supposed to meet Fred and George for a quick lunch before we all come back here." She said as she wiped off the remnants of her lipstick from the corners of her mouth.

"Is George going to ask you to be his best man?" Charlie quipped.

Ivy laughed half-heartedly. "Besides the obvious fact that he's going to pick Fred, I'm surprised I'm even invited to his and Angie's wedding."

"Why do you say that?" Charlie asked. But he knew full well the answer. He knew that, though the three were always seen as the best of friends, the twins have been avoiding Ivy. And she had been avoiding them, as well.

"I haven't spoken to either of them since the engagement party."

Charlie didn't say anything to this. He knew the twins haven't been speaking to Ivy, for whatever reason.

"Do you think Freddie's going to ask Katie to marry him?" She asked.

Charlie looked at the girl—really looked at her.

There was no doubt that Ivy Blythe was drop dead gorgeous. She was leggy, but not too tall, curvy. Her skin was lightly tanned—enough so one could see tan lines from her clothing. Her auburn hair framed her heart-shaped face better than any portrait in Hogwarts. And her eyes—oh, they were a beautiful, deep green. Not emerald like Harry's eyes, but the green of a lush jungle. Ivy was absolutely stunning.

She knew this, too. She had known it since she started to develop those covetable curves, and she had the confidence to match.

But she didn't have it in that moment. She might has well have been a little girl asking if there was a boggart in her closet. She looked more vulnerable than she ever had—even more than the night she and Charlie started this affair.

Charlie walked into the Leaky Cauldron. He wanted to be alone and he wanted a drink. The war was hard on everyone, and now that it was over, he needed a break.

Unfortunately, he never found that solitude as he instantly recognized a sobbing girl in the corner of the bar.

"Ivy?" He asked. She sniffled in response.

Charlie sat down and held her hands away from her eyes. "Ivy, what's wrong?"

"They're dead." She said, more tears welling up.

"Who?"

"My parents." She wept for another half hour before Charlie said another word.

Ivy wiped her eyes. They felt dry now, and she couldn't find any more tears to soften them.

"Mum died in the battle." She said. She took out a small mirror from her pocket and examined her makeup. "Dad killed himself when I told him. He said all this magic business was nonsense and then bam! His brains splattered all over the kitchen."

"Merlin. Ivy, I'm so sorry."

"No use being sorry about it." She said. Ivy smiled wide. It wasn't genuine, but it was good enough for her at that moment.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Charlie asked. He didn't want to leave his little brothers' friend alone.

"You can buy me every drink if it pleases you."

Charlie made two orders for Firewhiskey. And then, a few more until Ivy felt more talkative.

"Where are Fred and George?" He asked. Charlie thought it odd that Ivy wasn't with her closest friends after what she had told him.

"With their girlfriends." She said, bitterly. "Angie and George just got a place, so they're shagging all day and night. And Fred and Katie just started going out. Finally, Fred says."

"I always thought you'd end up with one of them."

"Clearly that's not going to happen. No one wants to shag me."

Then Charlie, being the nice guy he was, drunkenly said, "I'll shag you."

He remembered all of those first nights with Ivy. They'd fuck and then she'd cry. She'd cry about her parents. She'd cry about Fred and George. But soon, she just cried about Fred, and then she stopped crying altogether. It never bothered Charlie; the way he saw it was that he was doing her a service. He was providing friendship, comfort, and mind-blowing sex.

But now, he forgot about the latter. Ivy looked at him desperately, begging for an answer.

"Depends." He said.

"On what?"

"On if you ever tell Fred you're in love with him."

Ivy's eyes diverted to the floor almost shamefully.

"Don't deny it. Not is it only obvious to everyone but the twins, but you've drunkenly told me this several times."

"I can't tell him that."

"Why not?"

"Because he's with Katie. I couldn't do that to them."

"But that's it!" Charlie exclaimed. "He's with Katie. He's not in love with Katie. I've seen them, Ivy. Fred wants so much to have what George has with Angelina, but he's just lying to himself."

"Whether or not that's true, it doesn't matter. He doesn't love me."

"You don't know that."
"I think it's pretty clear. We're best friends for almost ten years, and then suddenly I'm just an acquaintance. An old school mate. When I needed him—when I needed them, I became nobody."

"Then remind him that you're somebody."

Ivy bent over to grab her shirt and Charlie smacked her ass. She turned around quickly and squinted her eyes at him in mock anger. Charlie smirked at her.

"If Fred marries Katie, can we get married?" She asked jokingly.

"He's not going to marry Katie." Charlie said with conviction.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I'm older than you. Wiser. I know these sorts of things."

"Oh, really? Wiser, you say?" She asked cheekily as she sat on the edge of the bed.

"Much. So much so that I'll even help you out."

"How?"

"In time, you'll know. When do you have to meet Fred and George?"

"In half hour."

"Perfect. Just enough time." He grinned as he slipped off Ivy's shirt for a second go.