so sorry i just saw this omg. i've been off tumblr for a hot minute b/c there's been so much going on in my life. i'm moving down to college next month (transfer student yay !!) and it's been an absolute whirlwind getting things ready. housing contracts. orientation registration (both online and in person). i also got sick late last month (that's what happens when you volunteer at a church retreat and are frequently in the same rooms as like 200+ kids), and also have a bunch of birthdays coming up this month (my brother's, then mine, then my mom's) and work at target (sigh).
i KNOWW i said i'd get to the requests this summer and i am so so sorry i haven't. i'm trying to draft when i have time but i'm not sure when i'll be able to post given that things are only getting busier from here : '(
the TLDR; it is a mess back here. i have a lot of things in progress. am trying to work on them when i can
(for those of you who submitted requests—again i am so so so sorry for letting you guys down😭)
AHH thank you thank you!! i am so so behind on requests rn (my inbox is kinda flooded rn) and i feel SO bad but i swear i am getting to them. my sleep schedule is horrible rn and it's chaos trying to prep to transfer (i am currently at community college BUT will be in socal for school starting this fall!!) but i'm trying to squeeze in time when i can.
to everyone who sent in mission impossible requests !! i am getting to them i swear : ') i've been back from vietnam for two weeks now but my sleep schedule is still messed up af so i'm trying to fix it lol. sorry if the requests take a while but rest assured they'll be out! i'm on summer break so asides from working here and there, i have tons of free time lol.
Patiently waiting anything benji you have coming up… I’m deep in the trenches 😭
TRYINGGGGG I AM DRAFTING RN LIKE I HAVE IDEAS BUT THE WORDS WONT COME OUT. i hate when this happens. BUT IM DOING MY BEST I SWEAR (jet lag is still kicking me in the ass. i've been back home for 10 days now)
How about Benji x reader who is new to the team and is a total badass similar to like Sabine or Paris but he developes a soft spot for her right away. Maybe he's attracted to her wildness but sees more in her as well and he's always trying to be there for her in any way he can but doesn't think she notices him then she starts becoming protective of him. Idk I love a good pining story
OH I LOVE THIS
i am getting straight to this rn. drafting as we speak. will link the finished fic here once i am done!
to keep track better i'll give you the 🍋 emoji : ')
just saw the final reckoning/dead reckoning pt. 2 and i am not okay. christopher mcq i am in your walls.
anyway MI requests (for ethan and benji) are opennn i am finally on summer break so i am hoping to get to them. i have a few ideas in the works (literally started brainstorming while watching the movie lmao)
ok hi guys it's been a hot minute but i've been swamped with schoolwork (whoops procrastination). i'll be out of the country from may 1st-16 BUT i hope to try and get at least one work out by then :) if not, i'll likely publish as soon as i land (bless airplane wifi and google docs offline saves). i'm currently working through my list of WIPs and i must've forgotten how rough writer's block was because i am lowkey suffering rn LOL.
my latest WIP is the enemies to lovers fred weasley fic : ') stay ready hehe
update: i got slammed with another boatload of schoolwork...this WIP might take some time before i publish. sorry yall 😔🥲
no bc i was just going through the accounts i follow bc i was looking for a certain account and i just realised we're muts??? so anyway, taking this opportunity to tell you just how much i love your writing!!
omg hi?!?!?!!! thank you so so much <3 i miss writing but schoolwork is kicking my butt rn. like why does online class have to have sm shit to do lol.
anYways i am vv glad we're mutuals : ') ngl i still get surprised still when ppl say they like my writing bc i always hated my writing style 😭 so it literally warms my heart 2 hear things like this u r truly amazing ily
summary: there’s a special sort of alchemy that’s involved in falling in love and finding the ‘one.’ luckily, you don’t need to try so hard—he’s already out there waiting.
words: ~3k
warnings: just loads of cheesiness and fluff
a/n: took inspo from the amortentia scene in hbp if ya couldn’t tell, but basically this is set in their “eighth year” so they’ve come back after the battle. hell yeah neville glow up and EVERYONE IS ALIVE! except moldy voldy and his minions duh
“Y/N, you’ve done it again,” Hermione sighed. You blinked your eyes open to see her perched at the edge of your bed, a concerned look on her face. “How many times have I told you not to do this?”
“What do you—oh…” You looked down to where she had taken your wrists—which were marked by bright red half-moon shapes from you digging your nails into them—into her hands.
She sighed, muttering a quick healing spell under her breath. You watched with curiosity as the scarlet marks began to sew themselves up and leave behind a layer of fresh, healed skin.
Twisting your hands this way and that, you flashed her a grin. “You’re the best, Hermione. What would I ever do without you.”`
“You’d be dying, of course,” she rolled her eyes. “Now get out of bed and leave that nap behind. You’ve got Potions in ten minutes and a match to win this afternoon.”
“I’m tired,” you groaned, throwing an arm across your face. “I don’t want to get up. It’s so early. I didn’t come back here to wake up at the butt crack of dawn to study even more.”
“You’re going to be late to class.”
“I don’t care.”
You groaned again when she forcibly yanked the blankets off your body and grabbed your hand, pulling you out of bed. “Now change. I’m not going to repeat myself.”
“Yes mum,” you exhaled, reluctantly changing and slinging your bag over your shoulder afterward. “Let’s go.”
You had barely made it to class in time, rushing to find an empty seat—Hermione took hers next to an equally tired-looking Harry and Ron, and Neville waved you over, so you sat down next to him.
Neville smiled at you genially. “Are you okay? You look exhausted.”
“Stayed up till 4 a.m. finishing two essays, but what else is new,” you whispered. “And you?”
“I had Herbology class right before this,” he whispered back, a proud look in his eyes. “Got a lot done, as per usual.”
You smiled back. “That’s amazing! You said that you were thinking of coming back here and teaching, right?”
He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, surprised that you’d remembered what he said. “Well, yeah…still got a few more classes to take, though, so I’m here for the rest of fall term, and a little after the holidays.”
Turning your attention back to Slughorn, who had just begun to speak, you took your copy of Advanced Potion-Making out of your bag.
“Now, this potion right here, I’m sure we’re all familiar with at this point. So can someone…” Hermione’s hand shot in the air immediately at Slughorn’s question, “...yes, please do tell.”
“Amortentia,” Hermione answered immediately, looking over at you and grinning.
“...It’s the most powerful love potion in the world,” you finished her sentence. “But it doesn’t really create love, it just causes a powerful infatuation or obsession of sorts. It’s impossible to manufacture true love.”
“Quite right, ladies,” said Slughorn. “You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinct mother-of-pearl sheen?”
“And the steam rising in characteristic spirals,” said Hermione enthusiastically, “and it’s supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us.”
Slughorn then asked you two to describe to the class what it was you smelled in the potion.
“I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and —” But Hermione turned slightly pink and did not complete her sentence.
“Miss Y/L/N?” Slughorn turned to you. “Can you tell us what it is that you smell, please?”
“Well,” you cleared your throat, stepping closer to the gleaming gold cauldron. “a burning fireplace, fresh laundry, broomsticks, and…”
Like Hermione, you were unable to finish your sentence, feeling your face burn as you realized what it exactly it was you were smelling—some mix of freshly grown berries and mint from spending hours in the Herbology greenhouses. The same smell radiating off the kind faced young man sitting right next to you. You slowly lowered your hand and sat back down.
“Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor for each of you,” Slughorn said. “Now, it’s time for us to get to work.”
You had no idea how you didn’t completely ruin your potion given that you spent half the time daydreaming about anything but brewing it. Neither you nor Neville were the greatest at Potions, despite having passed your OWLs for them.
“OI!” Ron not-so-quietly whisper-yelled from across the classroom. “Quit staring at each other with those heart-eyes and get to work!”
“Sure, Hermione the 2nd.”
You rolled your eyes, turning away in an attempt to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. Neville immediately did the same thing and stopped reading the instructions under his breath, opting to say them quietly inside his head instead.
“And you’d think that a war would give them the balls to say how they truly feel!” Hermione exclaimed as you walked out of class, heading to the library together. “I mean, how could someone be so clueless?”
“Who are you even talking about?” you questioned.
“You and Longbottom,” she laughed, in an Isn’t it obvious? type tone. “No wonder you didn’t get sorted into Ravenclaw.”
“Oh, shut it,” you scoffed. “There’s nothing to be said.”
“Didn’t Umbridge tell us all not to tell lies?” she countered.
“Hermione, really?”
“Okay, I’m joking! Bloody hell, Ron’s rubbing off on me,” she groaned. “But I’m serious, you need to do something about it. And you can’t use the ‘Voldemort’s going to have my arse, that’s far more important than telling the love of my life that I’m madly in love with him and don’t know what I’d do without him because he’s all I’ve ever wanted’ excuse.”
“Yes I—” you began, but stopped as you realized she was right. “Ugh. You’re insufferable, you know that?”
“Isn’t that why we’re friends?” she winked, nudging you in the side. “Come on. You have until the end of tonight to tell him or I’ll march up to him and do it mysel—”
“Okay, okay! Fine. I’ll figure it out. By tonight,” you said, exasperated. “Happy?”
“Now that’s progress.”
The first Quidditch match after the war had to have been one of the loudest you’d ever witnessed. Of course, it made perfect sense for it to be—after all the violence and bloodshed, everyone was quite relieved to be making the steady return to normalcy.
However, you felt the nerves creep up on you as they usually did, and started to regret not holding up your end of Hermione’s bargain before being thrown headfirst into a massive adrenaline rush.
But maybe, she was right. You’d spent so much time around Neville to the point that Flitwick had asked where he was when he didn’t show up to class with you by his side last week. To the point that half the time you studied together, you’d end up staying so long that you fell asleep at your seat and he’d end up finishing your homework for you (without complaint, of course, because that’s just how he was). And, to the point that during last month’s DADA session with the boggart, all you saw was his limp corpse on the floor, bloody and pale and lifeless after failing to kill Nagini, the sword of Gryffindor by his side. It had concerned even Blaise, who you weren’t necessarily friends nor enemies with, who stepped in to help you cast the Ridikulus spell because you had no energy left to do it yourself. He was everywhere, and there was no point in avoiding him.
Sighing, you finished putting on your uniform and got ready to leave the locker rooms, nervously wringing your hands out. You had taken up Fred’s post as one of Gryffindor’s Beaters after you left, and had to admit that it was rather bittersweet stepping onto the field for your last first game. While Harry was giving his usual pep talk, Ginny squeezed your hand tightly and leaned her head on your shoulder. You rested your head on top of hers in response, closing your eyes for a brief moment.
For once, there was no rivalry, no boos or shouting matches between the Gryffindors and Slytherins as you made your way onto the field. You could feel the collective sense of inter-House unity all around, with both captains cordially shaking hands and wearing genuine smiles on their faces, along with different Houses mingling together. All that mattered was that everyone was back together on the field, ready to experience another round of their favorite pastime.
You couldn’t recall the last time you were unable to stop smiling like this, zipping through the sky like it was all you cared about and all you knew how to do. The game went by quick, with Ron making several last-minute, game-defining saves, and Gryffindor just barely won, the final score being 300 to 280.
Your head was spinning faster than the Quaffle you’d swatted away multiple times, legs feeling like they were made of jello as you dismounted your broom. The Gryffindor team was a tangled mess of limbs as they embraced one another, hoisting Harry up in the air as he raised the trophy high in one hand. After hugging more people than you could keep track of you finally pushed your way out of the stuffy crowd, immediately scanning the stands for a familiar face.
And then you saw Neville standing there in the front row, arms open in the slightest in an invitation, so you sprinted forward, practically throwing yourself into his arms. You had no idea where the surge of confidence came from, but suddenly you were tightly clutching his shoulders and bringing his lips down to yours in a hard kiss. The sudden action took both of you by surprise, as he barely had time to react before kissing you back, arms wrapping around your torso to help you maintain your balance.
You probably would’ve passed out if you hadn’t pulled apart when you did, which was when Seamus and Dean’s loud wolf-whistling forced you to; faces flushed and breathing heavily. Somehow, though, the pure shock running through your veins kept you standing upright.
“W-what was that for,” he sounded completely out of breath, “I’m not complaining, but—”
All you could manage to respond with was a breathy laugh and wide smile, reaching up to adjust Neville’s woolen hat. “Something I’ve been putting off for ages.”
“You couldn’t have done that before Voldemort nearly killed you?” he questioned. “What were you waiting for?”
“I don’t know. But I’m here now,” you grinned, bringing him back in a second time. “Are we complaining here?”
“Not at all.”
SIX YEARS LATER
“Aunt Y/N, tell me the story of how you and Uncle Nev got married!” Teddy clapped his hands together in glee. “Tell me tell me tell me!”
“Haven’t I told you this before already?” you asked.
“I wanna hear it again! Tell me tell me tell me!” he pleaded. “Tell me!”
“Alright, alright,” you chuckled as he settled down in Ginny’s lap, and you looked over at your husband, who gave you a warm smile. “It all started with Herbology. I’d always had a green thumb of my own, of course, but Neville over here was the brightest in our class. Professor Sprout had a soft spot for him, you know.”
“Brightest is an understatement,” Neville chided. “I should be in history books for my talent.”
“Hey, be humble!” you teased, lightly punching him in the arm. “Anyway, Teddy, you know about the second Wizarding war, right?”
Teddy nodded eagerly. “Uncle Ron told me you all kicked butt and that Harry saved the day!”
“Exactly! Now, we were all very young. A few of us had been eighteen for several months, but many of us were still just seventeen. Older than you of course, but we were still kids. But the war made us grow up fast. Some of us went back to Hogwarts to finish off our last year, and Neville and I were placed into the same classes for the eighth year in a row—makes me think that Professor McGonagall did that on purpose.”
“If she didn’t, you wouldn’t have this, would you?” Neville asked.
“Nope,” you replied, leaning into him and resuming the story. “Our final class of the day was Herbology, and he’d been telling me how he wanted to come back to Hogwarts to teach that class because he loved it so much. Our section was the smallest with just ten students, so we got very close to each other very quickly and hung out after class a lot. And…one day, Professor Sprout had made a sudden change to our lesson plan which I thought was confusing, since she always let us know what we’d be doing in advance. Neville and I went to the greenhouse as per usual, but no one was there. That’s when he told me about the change, and said there was something he wanted to show me first. I was still confused, but I agreed, since there was no harm in doing so anyway. Well, we got there and it was pitch black, so I couldn’t see anything, which started to scare me.”
“And you were sorted into Gryffindor,” Neville teased. “Somehow.”
“Oh, quiet and let me finish. What’s a hero without a little fear, anyway?” you laughed. “That’s when Nev told me there was no Herbology class that day because it had been cancelled. Suddenly, a few lights turn on, and he’s standing behind me holding the prettiest bouquet of glowing flowers that I’ve ever seen. He told me it had taken weeks of watering them one by one, by hand, after class had ended, to get them to how they were then.”
You continued on, relishing in the memory as you recalled the story.
“What is this all for?” you asked. “Don’t tell me this is all a ploy to kidnap me and hold me hostage forever.”
“Not exactly…” he handed you the glowing bouquet, and took one of your hands in his. “Now come follow me.”
He led you deeper into the greenhouse, passing by glittering bellflowers, sweet-smelling honeysuckle, and other peacefully sleeping plants. Floating candles decorated the space, and you started to wonder if Sprout had cancelled class because she was redecorating the area.
Neville squeezed your hand, prompting you to turn around. Your heart started racing as it always did when you looked at him, but this time it was quite different. The once awkward eleven year-old boy who was your Potions partner had morphed into an impressive and achingly handsome young man, and you wondered how you had been so lucky to meet, even if it was by accidentally spilling half your potion all over him the first day you met. The same hands that bravely gripped Godric’s sword and sliced Nagini apart were also the same hands that held you more tenderly and gently than anyone else you knew. The same hands that had held you upright when you were kissing him for the first time in the middle of the Quidditch pitch.
“Nev…” you began, but all the words you wanted to say got caught in your throat as he shuffled a bit and pulled a tiny box out of his coat pocket. He carefully flipped it open to reveal a silver ring mixed with flecks of white gold, and a teardrop shaped diamond in the centre. “Are you…”
He cleared his throat, internally shaking out the nerves. “I don’t know how it took me so long to realize it was you. When Trelawney looked over my shoulder at the tea leaves that Seamus was reading for me, she said he was doing it all wrong. She’d told me, cup in her hands, that I had found my divine soulmate and she was sitting in that very room. And that we were—we were to be together for the rest of time. The King and Queen, she said. Of course, nobody believed it, not even me, so I brushed it off. But maybe she was right. You’ve always been there and I’m an idiot for taking as long as I did to realize I loved you.”
“Well,” you smiled softly, “it took me a while too, so I guess we’re even on that end. I don’t think I ever told you, but it was you I smelled in Slughorn’s potion that day. You’ve always been it for me, too.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Oh...well…” he shifted around again, “I got this a while ago, actually…like three years ago. Before I had even asked you to be my girlfriend. That time I had to go to the bathroom when we were at Hogsmeade with all our friends? I went to the vintage jewelry shop and picked it out with Ron’s help. I was only fifteen, but I wanted to save it in the hope that some day, I’d see it on your finger. And yet I kept denying that I cared about you as more than a friend.”
“Blimey, Trelawney really was right,” you let out a breathy laugh. “You knew before you even knew.”
“Yeah, so…this is me asking you now, I guess. I didn’t want to wait any longer when I knew that you were the only girl who I could picture a future with.”
“Then this is me saying yes,” you beamed, and he took your hand in his, gently putting the ring on. It seemed to glow extra bright as he did so.
Teddy clapped again as you finished the story. “And you lived happily ever after!”
“We did indeed,” you agreed. “A fairytale ending, if you will…”
“...and I remember when you told us about what Trelawney said to you two that day,” Ginny added on, also smiling, “something along the lines of, ‘this happens once every few lifetimes.’ If even that. Like you were meant to be from the start. ”
You couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth as you glanced over at Neville, the boy with twinkling eyes whom you had married at just eighteen, your whole lives ahead of you, ready to tackle it all—from exploding Potions to Quidditch victories—together, hand in hand.
defend harry against malfoy in flourish and blots when he was picking on him (it’s the first time she ever speaks in front of him)
carry around a horcrux for the better half of a year and realise that something was wrong and try to dispose of it at age 11
get possessed, manipulated and controlled by one of the darkest wizards of all time and live to tell the tale
get forced to write her own farewell note on the wall in blood and walk to her own death
go on as normally as possible afterwards despite the trauma of her first year, because she didn’t want to be a nuisance
make harry a get well soon card after he fell off his broom because of the dementors in third year
tell harry and ron off when making fun of neville for not being able to get a yule ball date
refuse harry as a yule ball date despite having harboured a crush on him for years because she didn’t want to hurt neville
see harry was floundering after hermione & ron left him to do prefect duties and immediately take charge and invite him to come with her
defend luna against bullies, and encourage neville to believe in himself and know his self worth
decide to quit pining for harry because it was a waste of time, instead dating other boys and becoming a solid friend to him
join dumbledore’s army without a second thought, coining the name and even encouraging more ravenclaws to join
call harry out when he was in a downward spiral about being possessed, explained her own experience and remained gracious despite him forgetting her biggest trauma
fill in for harry as seeker in the quidditch team and help them win the quidditch cup that year
reassure harry that he will play quidditch again, when he was feeling low about umbridge’s life long ban
encourage harry to talk to cho if that’s what he’s upset about (putting her own complicated feelings for him aside)
get harry to admit what was actually upsetting him and helping him find a solution
immediately agree to help harry by standing guard outside umbridge’s office despite not knowing any details
call harry out whenever he was being snarky / impatient with her and not take any of his shit
disarm malfoy & the others and escape from umbridge’s office to rush to harry and hermione’s aid
refuse to stay behind at hogwarts stating that she cared for sirius too and wanted to help
go with the others to the DoM in an attempt to save sirius, risking her life and breaking her ankle in the process
refuse to tolerate her brother’s new girlfriend who was being snobbish about her family’s home and lifestyle (but then go on to love and respect her, as they mature)
get invited to join the slug club because of her skill with hexes and not nepotism (the only one who wasn’t invited for that reason)
tell off zabini for laughing at harry about what went down at the DoM
call ron the fuck out when he was borderline slut-shaming her
crash into the commentator’s podium to shut zacharias smith up from talking smack about the gryffindor team
immediately try to intervene when she thought harry was in danger of being possessed by the hbp potions book
tell off dean and seamus for laughing when harry got seriously hurt in quidditch
come to harry’s defence after he attacked malfoy (bc he had to defend himself against an unforgivable curse) and stand up to (one of her) closest friend(s) to do so
step up to play seeker in harry’s place (again) in the quidditch final and winning the cup in his absence (!!!!)
make harry feel “the happiest he had ever been” when they finally got together
make my boy LAUGH 24/7 and bring him (and many others) so much JOY
support harry after dumbledore’s death, knowing when to give him comfort and also space
show unwavering love and loyalty to harry when he was trying to break up with her, claiming she didn’t care about the danger
also ultimately not fight his decision, understanding his need to stop voldemort once and for all, despite her being completely heartbroken
respect harry’s wishes to stay broken up, but still give him the most INSANE kiss ever as a birthday present (and something for him to fight for!!)
return to hogwarts under the rule of deatheaters, despite the target on her back as a blood traitor (also as brother of ron AND ex girlfriend of harry)
take the place of younger students and try to protect them from being tortured by the carrows
start up dumbledore’s army again with neville and rebel against the system, to reek as much havoc as possible at hogwarts
try to steal the sword of gryffindor from snape’s office because they wanted to help the cause as much as possible despite understanding why they needed it and ultimately being punished for it
refuse to stay put in the room of requirement when her family were out risking their lives during the battle and given the chance, immediately joined the fray
comfort an injured younger student at the battle, and stay strong for them, despite having just found out her brother had been killed
duel with bellatrix in the battle and almost lose her life doing it
go through so much and have her trauma be overlooked and forgotten by so many
go on to play QUIDDITCH PROFESSIONALLY in the team she DREAMED of playing for
and then going back to a career in writing (sports correspondent) despite her traumatic experience with the diary
marry the love of her life and have three beautiful children and get the happy ending that she deserves after EVERYTHING????
all for you guys to shit on her the way you do. put some goddamn RESPECT on MISS GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY’S name. she’s NOT a mary sue, she’s NOT a bully, and she’s NOT boring. she’s an ICON.
so a while-ish back, i made a post ab this neville fic i have fully finished but is currently sitting in drafts. if you'd like to be added to the taglist just comment or like this post! or if there are other fics you'd also like to be kept in the loop for, here is my taglist : )
p.s. it is semi-inspired by 'the alchemy' by tswift!! v fluffy and cheesy
UPDATE: ITLL BE OUT THIS WEEK. I ALSO HAVE A FRED ENEMIES TO LOVERS FIC IN THE WORKS SO YOULL GET THE NEVILLE FIC WHILE I CONTINUE WRITING THAT :)
'tis the season is so CUTE! I can honestly cry! It's unbelievably cute and warm and perfect! I LOVE IT! 💗🩷💗🩷💗🩷💗🩷💗🩷
THANK YOU!! i wasn't sure how i felt about it (ngl i still don't, esp cause it's not doing that well atm) but i am so so so happy to know you liked it. n thank uuuuu extra for being so active it literally makes me scream to know there is a regular reader on my blog <3 sending alll the love🩷🩷
summary: it’s christmas at the burrow and you can’t shake off the enchanted mistletoe that always seems to follow you wherever you go
words: ~5.1k
warnings: holiday cheesiness. my bad writing. lots of fluff. getting together/first kiss(es) cliches. fred being a rizzler (or at least trying to). mistletoe cliches. basically a lot of cliches
a/n: i had to. it may be mid-march but i couldn't resist another cute holiday fic. also i’m so sorry lol i went overboard again. will i ever write anything short 💀
“Oh, my sweet girl, it’s so good to see you!” Molly exclaimed as she came forward, bringing you in for a tight, motherly hug. “How have you been?”
“I’ve been great,” you smiled kindly. “Thank you again for letting me stay, I didn’t want to feel like a burden but Fred and George said they already told you I was coming—”
“Nonsense! It’s no problem, dear,” she insisted, smoothing your hair back. “It’ll be wonderful to spend the holidays together.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” you said, “and I’m most looking forward to your roasts.”
“You’re too sweet,” she patted your cheek, “now, I’m sure you all are exhausted. Let’s head on home, shall we? George, Ron, help her and Hermione with their things, won’t you?”
“But Mum, we already have our own things to c—” Ron immediately stopped talking once he saw the warning look on his mother’s face. “Okay…”
While him and George took ahold of your things, Fred fell into step besides you, casually slinging an arm over your shoulders. “Excited to spend Christmas with me?”
“No,” you joked, trying to shrug his arm off. He only pulled you further into his side, and you chuckled lightly, “I’m only here for your mum’s cooking, of course.”
“Wow, so my irresistible charm didn’t work on you?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“I’ll have to try harder then,” he shrugged, then leaned in to press an exaggerated, dramatic kiss to the side of your head. “Well, I’m happy you’re here.”
He spent the rest of the walk out of King's Cross making a show of being extra affectionate and cheesy, causing Ron to look over at Ginny and gag, and a nostalgic smile to grace Mrs. Weasley’s features.
The Burrow was a hive of activity in the final days leading up to Christmas—everyone was busy rushing around helping with something. Fleur was gliding through each room, feather duster and other cleaning supplies floating behind her in a glowing trail, Bill and Charlie were working outside in the front and back yards, and you were helping Mr. Weasley fix up various gadgets. You hated cleaning and repairs, but talking to the kind man made the time go by much faster than you expected.
“So, Y/N, I hear that you have some Muggle knowledge,” Mr. Weasley spoke up as you carefully took a clock apart, inspecting each of its parts, “could you tell me what is this thing called the ‘internet?’”
You took the cloth from his outstretched hand and began to wipe at the glass as you spoke, “Yes, my mother is a Muggle so I know a good amount of stuff. She’s been writing to me about the new computer her and Dad got back home, and it’s fascinating. You can do just about anything on the Internet. Search up cute animal pictures, read the news, play some games…”
“Do these pictures move?”
“No, but we have videos,” you explained, “they’re recorded clips and they’re kind of like moving pictures.”
“Fascinating. You’ll have to show me sometime,” he smiled, “And, I still have that—what is it? Camera recorder, that you brought over the summer?”
“Camcorder, sir,” you corrected, “it’s a video camera. You can record videos on there and play them as many times as you would like.”
“You’ll have to show me one day,” said Mr. Weasley.
Just as you were nodding in agreement, you felt someone come up behind you. A sudden warmth flooded your senses and you didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was.
“What’s going on here?” Fred murmured as he propped his chin on your shoulder and snaked his arms around your waist, squeezing tight. You couldn’t find it in yourself to tell him to let go; it was like every muscle in your body relaxed the moment you realized it was him.
“Well, Fred,” Mr. Weasley replied, “Y/N here was telling me all about the Internet and video recordings. Quite ingenious, these Muggles are.”
“Is that so?” His nose just barely brushed your cheek and you felt your heart explode. It wasn’t like he’d never put his hands on you in the past, but something about the moment felt more intimate than the rest. “You’ve got to tell me all about it.”
“She’ll tell you once you get your hands off her and go help Mum with dinner,” a voice sounded from behind you both. You turned to see Ginny standing there with her hands on her hips, a knowing smirk on her face. She exchanged a pointed look with her father that somehow, both you and Fred missed. “Oh and Y/N, she wants you to come too, if you’d like.”
Fred grumbled to himself and carefully released you from his arms. You tried to ignore how it suddenly felt cold when he did.
“Go on, Fred, go help your mother,” Mr. Weasley gestured with his hand, “I’ll take it from here. And Y/N, thank you for your help.”
Just as you were about to cross over to the kitchen, a hand on your arm stopped you in your tracks.
“What is it this time, Fred?” you sighed.
“We can’t walk past this, it’s bad luck.”
“For Merlin’s sake, what are you talking a—” you followed to where his finger was pointing, eyes landing on a bundle of mistletoe hanging from the top of the entryway. “—oh.”
“Mistletoe,” he flashed you a cheeky grin. “Pucker up, sweetheart.”
You felt heat creep up your cheeks. “Are you being serious?”
“I’m being dead serious—I promise I’m not bad.”
“Fine. Only because it’s ‘tradition.’”
That was all the signal he needed before he gently tugged you close and connected your lips in a tender kiss. You instinctively reached up to cup his cheek with one hand, heart beating rapidly when you felt him smile against your lips and tighten his hold on you.
After a few moments you pulled away, feeling as if you had just been doused in gasoline and set on fire. Your heartbeat hadn’t slowed down in the slightest.
“That wasn’t too terrible, now was it?” Fred raised a brow at you in question. Were you just imagining things, or were his cheeks kind of pink as well?
“Terrible,” you lied, pretending to look disappointed.
“But you know you love me,” he sing-songed as he walked away into the kitchen.
“As much as I love Umbridge,” you sing-songed back.
“Hey!”
You rolled your eyes and followed him, ignoring the pointed looks that your onlookers (particularly Ginny) sent your way.
This had to have been the first morning in ages in which you felt well-rested. Well, if you could call it morning; it was nearly noon and you had just woken up, almost suspicious at the lack of heaviness pressing down your eyes as they opened. You were one of the last ones to wake if you didn’t count Ron, who often slept until lunch.
Looking down, you realized you had somehow ended up wearing Fred’s sweater rather than your own to sleep, the giant monogrammed ‘F’ standing out against the maroon in golden thread. You were too lazy to try and question it, however, so you opted to brush the thought off and quickly got ready, brushing the tangles out of your hair.
“Y/N, guess what w—” someone called out from below as you made your way to the winding staircase.
Before you even had the chance to respond, your foot caught on the step below you and you slipped backwards. You braced yourself for a hard hit on the rock-solid floor, expecting to hear a crack, but didn’t, and felt a strong pair of arms catch you around the waist instead.
“Almost took a hard fall there, didn’t you?” Fred chuckled lightly, “you’ve got to be more careful.”
Even after you had steadied yourself, he didn’t let go of you nor did he step away. Your face flushed at the realization.
“Yeah,” you mumbled, suddenly feeling hot, “definitely. I’ll…try not to trip like that next time.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Several moments of silence passed, and his eyes were still on you, a slight look of endearment shining in them.
“What?” you were now feeling confused, “is something wrong? Is there something in my hair? Please don’t tell me it’s a spider—”
He simply shook his head, staring upward. You followed his gaze to see a familiar cluster of sage-green leaves with white berries hanging from the top of the doorway by a ribbon.
“Mistletoe,” he said confidently, but you could’ve sworn you saw a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks. “I wonder who put that there?”
“Dunno,” you shrugged, suddenly feeling flustered, “maybe someone’s just trying to spread the holiday cheer. Did they teach Dobby to scale the walls or something?”
“Now that kind of makes sense.”
“Totally.”
“Or maybe, Georgie did this,” he guessed, “can’t really think of why else we’d get caught under it again.”
“You think?”
“Possibly.”
“Yeah. That makes sense too.”
“...Alright, we’re delaying this,” Fred declared after several moments of silence, eyes flickering down to your mouth.
“No, we’re not,” you awkwardly coughed, turning away to try and hide your blush, “you’re delaying it, not me.”
“Then let’s get it over with, love.”
“Okay, fine.”
Rising up onto your tiptoes, you looped your arms around his neck and kissed him softly, trying your best to ignore the swooping sensation in your stomach.
“There, now we won’t be cursed to a life of loneliness.”
“Y/N, would you be a dear and help me with chopping the vegetables?” Mrs. Weasley called you from your spot in the living room where you, Hermione, and Ginny were sprawled on the floor, hovering various random objects in the air. “It won’t take too long.”
You stood up and dusted yourself off. “Oh, sure, of course.”
Cooking wasn’t your favorite activity in the world, but you didn’t hate it either. Still, it wasn’t like you went out of your way to whip something up to eat if you could help it. But you genuinely enjoyed it when it was with Mrs. Weasley; she always had a good story or two to tell, and made for great company. Her meals always reminded you of those of your grandmother and mother’s.
Taking one of the freshly washed knives, you slowly began to chop the onions, careful to avoid cutting the root because you knew you’d turn into a teary-eyed mess if you did. You knew you could use a bit of magic to speed up the process, but both you and Mrs. Weasley swore up and down that there was something different about homemade, handmade meals.
Right when you were about to finish your work, your hand slipped and the blade sliced across your palm. You hissed in pain and quickly jerked your hand back, muttering a string of swears under your breath. Blood started dripping from the cut, small scarlet droplets hitting the counter. So much for being careful…
Fred was by your side in an instant, taking your hand in his and peering at it worriedly. “You’re bleeding.”
“Way to state the obv—” you were about to say something snarky, but the moment he adjusted your hand, you winced and swore again. “That fucking hurt!”
“We need to get this bandaged up,” he stated, not caring that your blood was now getting onto his sleeves. He let go for a moment to hastily wrap your hand in a towel before holding onto it again, “Come on.”
You reluctantly obeyed and followed him to the nearest washroom where he gently lifted you by the waist and set you down on the countertop. Resisting the urge to swing your legs back and forth, you watched him curiously as he began to rummage around the bathroom, opening and closing several cupboards until he found a small box, setting it down beside you.
“Luckily, this isn’t a bed-binding injury,” he explained, setting a small box down beside you, “so it won’t need any fancy spells to fix.”
“Fred, I’m fine, you don’t have to baby me. I’m perfectly capable of doing this myself,” you sighed. “It’s just a cut. Maybe a little deep, but still—just a cut.”
“Well, I want to help you. And for what it’s worth, I don’t like seeing you hurt. Even if it is ‘just a cut.’”
Realizing he wouldn’t let up, you stopped trying to argue. “Alright then, have at it.”
Fred flipped the lid of the box open and pulled out a roll of gauze and several cotton balls, along with a small vial of some basic disinfecting tonic. He gingerly unwrapped the makeshift bandage around your hand, tossing it into the wastebasket by the sink.
“I’ll try and be as gentle as I can, but no promises…I’m sorry,” he warned.
“Just hurry up and do it,” you gritted your teeth, the stinging sensation in your palm growing worse. “Let’s get it over with.”
He first ran a cloth under the water and gently pressed it to your skin, cleaning the excess blood away. The cold felt good against your skin, but this relief was short-lived once he pressed the tonic-soaked cotton ball to the cut and you yelped in pain.
“I know, I’m really sorry,” he whispered, continuing to gently dab at the wound. “It’ll be over in a sec.”
It was almost odd, seeing this gentler, softer side of him that you rarely ever saw make an appearance. He was dead silent as he worked, and you couldn’t help but stare at the way his brows creased in concentration and how he held your hand so gently as if it was made from fairy dust and starlight.
“Alright, you’re all good,” Fred announced a moment later, gesturing down to your newly bandaged hand. “You’re all good to go.”
“Thanks,” you exhaled.
With Fred’s help, you hopped down from the counter, feeling the cold floor against your bare feet. It was only when you looked back up that you realized how close you were standing—you were practically chest-to-chest—along with the mistletoe growing from the ceiling. The stupid plant was taunting you and you hated it. Were you ever going to get a moment of peace this Christmas…
“Was that there before?” you questioned. “I could’ve sworn it wasn’t…”
“Who cares?” Fred shrugged, “we’ve got to kiss now, right?”
“Obviously…” And before you knew it his lips were pressing against yours, arms sliding around your waist. The taste of gingerbread and firewhisky filled your senses as your lips collided, getting a whiff of something smoky and sweet.
It was weird to finally be at eye level with him because you were sitting on the edge of the sink, and this sudden dynamic change had butterflies sweeping through your insides.
“Right, well,” Fred cleared his throat as you broke away from him, suddenly bashful, “and they say a kiss will make it all better.”
“Yeah. I’m feeling loads better already.”
There was a different sort of look in his eyes this time; it was as if he wanted to say something more, but held back.
In spite of the ‘awkwardness’ you still let him hold your hand all the way back down to the kitchen. He didn’t mind, of course.
It was finally Christmas Eve and you were beyond exhausted but couldn’t have been more excited—Christmases at the Burrow were your absolute favorite. Mealtimes in particular were always filled with endless laughter; there was never a dull moment at the dining table and you loved every minute of it.
After a lively pre-holiday supper, Ginny declared that it was time for a giant lip-sync dance party, so you all cleared up the entire living area, pushing chairs and sofas to the edges of the room.
Mrs. Weasley had a wide selection of music for you to choose from and you decided to pair up, each person randomly sticking their hand in a hat and pulling out a slip of paper that had the name of the track they’d be ‘singing.’ You and Hermione were put together and got stuck with Celestina Warbeck’s “A Cauldron Full of Hot, Strong Love.” Everyone howled in laughter as you pulled out the thin sheet of paper, reading the title. Those howls only magnified as you launched into an overly dramatic, opera-like performance, dancing around the room with your best friend. The two of you ended the sequence with Hermione dipping you dramatically and almost dropping you, causing you to slip momentarily.
The whole room burst into applause and both you and your best friend bowed, grinning from ear to ear.
After everyone had gone for a round it was a free-for-all, so once Mr. and Mrs. Weasley finished their dance, Ginny tugged you into the center of the room. “Come on!”
“Oi, you’re staring,” George pointed out, leaning to whisper into his twin’s ear. “You’re so in love.”
“Shut up,” Fred grumbled, not taking his eyes off you. His eyes followed your frame as you and Ginny twirled each other around, heads thrown back in laughter and clutching each other because you had spun yourselves dizzy. It was hard not to; he was completely mesmerized. This was his Christmas gift, he told himself, he didn’t need anything else. “Am not. Besides, you know she only sees me as—”
“Are too. You know, you can be so thick sometimes.”
But then you nearly stumbled and fell for what felt like that millionth time this past week, and again, Fred rushed forward mid-conversation to catch you.
“Thanks.”
“Anything for you, darling.”
“Would you look at that,” Ginny snickered as she regained her balance, and jabbed her finger upwards, interrupting the brief ‘moment.’ The music continued to play softly in the background. “you two! Stop right there!”
“Bloody hell,” you let out a long groan. You didn’t want to look up this time. Fred looked just as smug as his sister did, if not more. “Not again.”
“Oh, no!” Fred feigned a look of surprise, “it’s as if it’s following us! Bit strange, innit?”
“Yeah. Very.”
“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” you heard several voices—likely Ron, George, and Hermione—chant. Everyone else watched on in amusement.
“Why don’t we give them what they want?” Fred hummed, a hint of amusement painted across his features. “They get a show, and we get to kiss. It’s a win-win.”
“Whatever you say,” you muttered.
He then gently caressed your cheek and brushed his lips against yours, sending a strange spark of sorts shooting down your spine. It felt as if you’d been thrown into the icy depths of the Black Lake yet you were still afloat, missing the fate of drowning just by the feeling of his lips.
You were too caught up in the newfound feeling to try and figure out why you’d been caught under the mysterious plant for what seemed like the thousandth time already. This time around, though, you had less complaints waiting to burst forward from the tip of your tongue.
“Oi! Save the rest of it for the bedroom!” a loud voice jolted you from your trance, and the two of you finally broke apart for air, “keep it family-friendly down here!”
“Ron!” Ginny punched her brother in the shoulder, causing him to wince. “Stop ruining the moment!”
Everything resumed as normal, though Fred found himself sitting closer to you as the evening wore on, one hand placed on your upper thigh as if it was meant to be there all along.
By the time you had all washed up and gotten ready for bed, you were tired out of your mind, but still found it difficult to fall asleep. Hermione and Ginny watched with amused looks as you paced around the room in frustration, half-convinced that by morning there would be scuff marks in the floorboards from where your feet had been.
“I just don’t understand,” you groaned as you flopped backwards onto your bed, pulling the sheets all the way up to your chin. “It’s everywhere! How come no one else is getting caught beneath it as frequently as us?”
The redhead girl simply laughed, “are you complaining about locking lips with him this often? Last I recall, you seemed to quite enjoy—”
“Oh shut it,” you scoffed, “I like following a holiday tradition. Even if it’s more often than I’d like.”
“Uh huh.” Ginny didn’t look convinced in the slightest. “Keep telling yourself that, Y/N.”
“She’s not wrong,” Hermione chimed in as she got into bed as well, “if I didn’t know better I’d think you’d been together for ages.”
“It’s all fake,” you mumbled, voice trailing off as the realization hit you, “none of this is real. If I’m going to kiss him, I want it to be real real. No mistletoe, no bets, no nothing. I want to remember it and I want it to mean something beyond just a silly little tradition.”
The two girls fell silent for a moment as they took in your words.
“...He was your first, wasn’t he?” asked Hermione. “And second…and third…”
Your lack of response told her all she needed to know.
The delirious feeling remained when you woke up early the next morning.
Changing and getting ready felt harder than normal; the moment you sat up in bed, you wanted to lie back down and go back to sleep. Hermione and Ginny clearly felt the same way, judging by their bleary eyes and tired groans. It was Christmas Day, and the only present you really wanted was a good night’s rest. And you thought you would finally be getting some, until George had starting pounding on your door and demanded you all wake up before they broke the door down.
“How about I break your bones instead, you git!” Ginny snapped as she threw the covers off herself, storming to the door and swinging it open. “We’ll be down in a minute, geez!”
“Someone woke up on the wrong side of bed…” George sang. “That’s not the holiday spirit. Come on. Mum says we can’t open presents till you lazy bums get downstairs.”
Ginny rolled her eyes and promptly closed the door with a huff, walking over to her bedside to change. You wanted to wait longer out of spite, but knew that you’d be bothered relentlessly if you didn’t head down in time.
“Men,” Hermione chuckled lightly as she pulled her jumper on over her head. “They’re really children at heart.”
“You could say that again,” you rolled your eyes, “they don’t know when to stop.”
“Hey!” Ron interjected. “You can’t go generalizing like that, it’s not fair.”
“I second that,” Charlie spoke up, “it’s not fair.”
The entire family was already gathered around by the time you came downstairs; the large pile of presents that had been under the tree now moved to the center of the room. You made it your mission to ignore the way Fred’s hair was all messy from having just woken up moments prior, and the way he ran his hand through it, which only messed it up even further. It was infuriating that he looked good without trying, and it was even more infuriating that his cocky self just knew and had now caught you staring.
He sent you a wink and patted the empty spot next to him on the couch. Conveniently enough everyone else had already sat down, leaving you no choice but to sit by his side (But were you really complaining, though?).
“Happy Christmas, everyone,” Mrs. Weasley beamed brightly, clasping her hands together, “since we’re all here and awake now, let’s get started. We’ll go in a circle, and each pick something from the pile—Arthur, why don’t you go first.”
Any lingering frustration or bad moods had lifted the moment Mr. Weasley presented the first gift, which happened to be addressed to Fleur, from you. She unwrapped the package to reveal the skincare set that you knew she’d been eyeing for ages—it was from when you’d gone on a day trip to Paris together and she caught sight of it in the department store, and talked about it nonstop until you went to get dinner.
Fleur let out a small squeal and immediately came over to embrace you, “Thank you! I ‘ave been looking for zis for ages but couldn’t find it anywhere else! How did you get your hands on it?”
You and Bill exchanged a quick look, “I have my ways.”
She gratefully kissed your cheek and patted your head, “Thank you so much. I will be using it every day.”
Before long, everyone was drowning in their own pile of presents. One of your favorites had to have been the one that Bill and Charlie worked on together: they gifted you a hand-crafted obsidian dagger, which Charlie explained took months of convincing the goblins to make, but was worth it in the end. (He left out the part where they’d half-threatened Griphook with two dragons, of course.)
“Wait, Fred, you still haven’t given Y/N your gift!” Hermione pointed out. “Come on, stop staring and give it to her!”
“Huh, what—” Fred quickly snapped out of his momentary daze, blinking a few times and reaching behind himself, holding a small box in his hands. “Right, Y/N, this is for you—”
“If this is another box of mistletoe,” you began as you turned to fully face him, “I’ll punch you—”
“It’s not, I promise. But,” he cleared his throat and lowered his voice, trying to hide the slight nervousness in his tone, “can we head outside? I was planning on giving it to you to open privately, if that’s alright.”
“Yeah, sure…” you were a bit confused at this but got up with him anyway.
“You hurt her and I’ll hex you,” Ginny warned as he held the front door open for you, hand beginning to reach for her wand. “Don’t think I won’t do it.”
A gentle breeze blew through the air, carrying with it the musical sound of the wind chimes overhead. You breathed in deep as you sat down on the doorstep next to Fred, wringing your hands out—for whatever reason you were nervous, and you usually weren’t nervous around him. Maybe it was the cold December air or the fact that you had an irregular sleep schedule that gave you occasional migraines, you didn’t know…
“You okay?” he gently bumped your shoulder with his. “You’ve got something to open, remember?”
“Oh…yeah…”
Fred eyed you carefully as you undid the pale blue ribbon and unwrapped the small package, opening the box. Nestled amongst soft velvet was a pearlescent, heart-shaped locket outlined in glowing gold. For the first time since you met you were at a loss for words, which was strange given that you always knew what to say and were often quick to reply with something equally sharp-witted and sarcastic to match his energy.
“Open it,” he urged, and you just barely heard him over your rapid heartbeat, popping the locket open with shaky hands. Inside was a tiny moving image of the two of you together by the Black Lake, ear-splitting grins on your faces as you sat on his shoulders and his hands tightly clutched yours, trying to keep you from falling off. You remembered how Harry was laughing so hard that the camera shook and Hermione had to help him steady it before he took the shot.
He smiled softly at you. “Not mistletoe, like I promised. What do you think?”
“It’s perfect,” you exhaled, gazing up at him, “I love it.” I love you.
“About the mistletoe, though…” Fred continued, “you’re probably wondering why we got caught under it so much.”
“Funny enough, I was going to ask,” you said, looking back down and watching him trace slow patterns into your palm. “How is it that it kept catching just us? As if it was following us around…”
“Because it was,” he admitted sheepishly.
“So you’re saying…”
“I bewitched them to do that, of course. Just like…” he lightly snapped his fingers, causing a bundle to appear over your heads, “...this. I thought that making excuses to get you under the mistletoe would get you to realize how I felt but Merlin, you didn’t catch on at all.”
You sucked in a breath. “I don’t get it. W-what do you mean—”
“I’m bloody in love with you, Y/N, what other girl would I willingly try and kiss five times in a row?” he shook his head, cheeks flushed a bright pink both from his blush and the icy breeze, “You really thought I’d care that much about an old holiday ‘tradition?’ I only cared about you, and I still do. That isn’t going to change.”
Then he gently brushed your hair to the side to clasp the necklace on; once he was done, he lifted his hand and placed it against the side of your face, thumb skimming over your cheekbone in a gentle motion. He brought you in close and connected your lips together, sending a searing heat through your body like an all-consuming wildfire and it was utterly intoxicating. And it wasn’t fast or terrifying in the slightest bit—it was slow, steady; just like the way you fell in love with him.
He tilted your chin up just the slightest bit to deepen the kiss, and you felt like you were going to explode. The world was spinning but you had come to a standstill, the feeling of your lips moving in sync and his warm hands keeping you tethered to the rocky earth.
You couldn’t help the grin that crept up your face when you pulled back for air. Leaning forward and resting your chin against his shoulder, you let out a breathy laugh, holding him tight around the torso. Maybe you were quite oblivious for taking until Christmas Day to realize your best friend fancied you, but at least you got something (well, multiple things, really) out of it—which neither of you were complaining about.
“I take it that it went well, then?” a voice sounded out from behind you both. “Did it work?”
“Merlin’s saggy beard, Georgie, the love of my life and I were having a moment,” Fred groaned quietly, and you too would’ve been equally embarrassed except all your brain seemed to focus on were the words, love of my life, and repeat it over and over inside your head.
“You were in on this too?”
“How could I not be?” George winked, “when your idiot of a twin brother won’t fess up, someone’s got to step in and help.”
The rest of Christmas zipped by in a flash—nothing really changed, asides from the fact that Fred’s hand now remained on yours at all times except for when you were eating or went to go wash up and change.
And no more rogue mistletoe appeared above you in hallways or doorways of any kind, but Fred still waited patiently on the other side, hoping to steal another kiss or two.
