JUST FRIENDS - FRED WEASLEY
Summary: You and Fred are just friends. However, you can't help but feel a tug at your heart whenever he does little things - making you question if your 'just friends.'
warnings: a pinch of angst, cussing, friends to lovers.
You and Fred were just friends. Nothing less, nothing more. At least thatās what you kept telling yourself. Over and over, like a charm you hoped would eventually workābecause if it didnāt, you werenāt sure how much longer your heart could take it.
He did things, little things that didnāt feel exclusively friendly.
Like how he always found you in a crowded roomāhis eyes scanning until they landed on yours, lighting up like you were the only one worth seeing. Or how he saved you the best part of every dessert at dinner. Or when heād throw an arm around your shoulders after a long day, fingers curling into the fabric of your robes like he didnāt even notice. Or when heād lean in close during study sessions, reading your notes upside down, his cheek brushing yours while he made some cheeky comment that had your stomach somersaulting.
And the worst part? He never seemed to notice what it did to you.
It was the casual intimacy of it allāhis easy affection, the warmth in his voice when he said your name. The way heād ruffle your hair when you were annoyed, or hold your pinky instead of your hand when he tugged you through the busy corridors between classes. Things that shouldnāt have meant anythingā¦ but always did.
The saddest part was that you knew Fred Weasley. Almost as well as George. You knew he flirted with half the castle. You knew the not-so secret hookups heās had with other Gryffindors and some Ravenclaws here and there. You knew he wasnāt serious about relationships with them, or maybe even anyone.
However, none of them got the quiet parts of him. The stillness behind his laughter. The worry in his eyes when you were too quiet. The way heād wait up for you after late Prefect rounds, claiming he ājust happened to be up,ā even when his hair was mussed from sleep. Or maybe you just noticed far too much and overanalyzed him.
So no, you werenāt in love with Fred Weasley.
But sometimesāwhen he looked at you like you hung the moonāyou really, really wished you were just a little better at lying.
Because whenever he does things like that, you find it even more difficult to keep pretending. Like tonight.
The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with post-Quidditch victory energyāscarlet and gold banners fluttering, laughter echoing off the walls, and butterbeer flowing in celebratory bursts. Someone had dragged a wireless from the dorms and turned the volume up, and a few people had pushed the couches aside to make room for dancing.
You sat curled into the arm of a chair, trying to keep your focus on the cup in your hands and not the way Fred Weasley moved through the room like he belonged to itāeasy, magnetic, glowing with that same wild charm that made people gravitate to him without even realizing it.
Your stomach flipped when his eyes landed on you. He was still in his Quidditch gear, hair windblown and cheeks flushed from the game, but somehow he looked better like thatāunpolished and completely alive.
āHey,ā he called, making a beeline for you through the crowd. āThereās a rule that says you have to dance with the winning team.ā
āI think you made that up,ā you replied, raising an eyebrow.
He grinned, unbothered. āI make up a lot of rules. Doesnāt mean theyāre not good ones.ā
Before you could protest, he was holding out his hand. And youāidiot that you wereātook it.
The crowd parted just enough to let the two of you fall into step with the slow rhythm of the music. It wasnāt really dancing, not proper anyway. Just swaying in place, your hand in his, his other resting gently at your waist. But the closeness made your thoughts stumble.
He smelled like firewood and grass and a hint of cinnamonālike autumn wrapped in troubleāand he was looking at you like you were something rare.
āI told George youād say no,ā Fred murmured, tone soft enough that only you could hear it.
You tilted your head. āTo what?ā
āWhy would I say no?ā
His smile flickered at the edges, a little too careful. āDunno. Just figured you mightāve had enough of me.ā
You rolled your eyes to hide the way your heart skipped. āDonāt be dramatic. Why would I ever say no to you?ā
He chuckled, spinning you lazily in a slow circle. āI canāt help it. Itās part of my charm.ā And it was. All of it was. The humor, the warmth, the way he pulled you close without a second thought like you belonged there.
But you had to remind yourself again- just friends. Thats exactly what you were.
His eyes lingered for a second longer than usual, and his smile shiftedāless mischievous, moreā¦ genuine.
āYou look really nice tonight,ā he said, voice quieter than before. āThat color suits you. Its my favorite to be exact.ā
You glanced down at the red fabric tucked neatly into your black leather skirtānothing fancy, nothing flashy, just something that made you feel a little braver than usual. āItās your house color,ā you said with a small smirk. āOf course itās your favorite.ā
Fred tilted his head slightly, his eyes still on you. āYeah, wellā¦ you make it look like a whole thing.ā
You laughed, mostly because it was easier than letting yourself sink into the way he was looking at you. āYouāre ridiculous.ā
āAnd youāre stunning,ā he said simply, without any of the usual flair. Just that. And then he looked away like it hadnāt completely disarmed you.
āI could say the same about you,ā you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.
His brows lifted. āWhat, this?ā he gestured to himselfāthe grass-stained Quidditch uniform, his jersey untucked, pads hanging a little lopsided. āIām literally sweating. This is me at my least impressive.ā
You grinned. āThatās the sad part. You still look good.ā
Fred let out a loud, theatrical gasp. āAre youāflirting with me?ā
You rolled your eyes. āRelax, Weasley. Itās a compliment, not a marriage proposal.ā
āDamn,ā he muttered. āAnd here I was already planning the color scheme.ā
He twirled you unexpectedly, making you laugh again as you stumbled back into his arms.
It was easy with Fred. Always had been. You danced like that for a whileāslow, steady movements in the middle of a party that was growing louder by the minute. But in your little bubble, the noise faded. He asked you about your classes, groaned when you reminded him about your shared Transfiguration essay, and gave you a dramatic reenactment of how he almost died catching the last Quaffle, complete with flailing arms and fainting poses.
You rolled your eyes, but secretly you lived for these momentsāwhen he let the silliness melt into something softer.
You talked about how much longer you had at Hogwarts, about the DA meetings, about how he and George were already plotting something ābigā before they left for good.
He looked down at you as he spoke, his expression open, like he wanted you to remember this version of himāthe one who wanted to be more than just a bloke who never took anything serious. The one who wasnāt laughing at the world, but sharing the laugh with you.
And you let yourself pretend, just for a moment, that you were something more.
āOy, Weasley! Get over here, mate! We need a you!ā
It was Lee Jordan, standing near a cleared table that had clearly been repurposed for an aggressively chaotic game of wizardās Exploding Snap. George stood beside him, smirking like heād been waiting for the perfect time to interrupt.
Fred groaned dramatically but smiled at you as he loosened his hold.
āSorry, love,ā he said, voice low and far too casual for the way your heart reacted to the nickname. āBest if i head off to Lee before i get a bludger to the head next practice.ā
You forced a laugh, letting your hands fall away from him slowly, too slowly. āWouldnāt want to deprive the common room of your talents.ā
He grinned, already backing away, fingers still brushing yours until the last second. āExactly. Sacrifices must be made.ā
And then he was goneāfolded back into the crowd, into the noise and the warmth and the chaos that always seemed to orbit him. Like he had never looked at you like that. Like he hadnāt just taken your breath away without even trying.
You stood there for a second, unsure what to do with yourself, before your eyes scanned the room and landed on Hermione, seated near the fireplace, a cup of punch in her hands and a knowing look already blooming on her face.
She glanced up as you walked up to her, lifting her cup slightly in greeting. āWell, you two looked cozy.ā
You scoffed, too harsh, too fast. āWeāre just friends.ā
There was a pauseābrief, but enough.
Then Hermione set her cup down and leaned forward slightly, her voice calm, like she wasnāt trying to pick a fightājust deliver the truth.
āYou say that like itās a fact,ā she said softly. āBut you look at him like youāve already written a thousand love letters youāll never send.ā
āThatās quite dramatic,ā you muttered, though your voice lacked bite.
Hermione didnāt respond right away. She just looked at youāreally looked at youāwith that frustratingly perceptive expression she wore when she was holding back something she already knew. You hated how well she could read you, even when you were trying not to be readable at all.
āI notice things,ā she said quietly, as if reading your mind. āLike how you laugh before he even finishes a joke. Or how you scan a room the second you walk into itāonly to relax the moment you see him.ā
You stayed silent, becauseā¦ well, what could you say to that?
āHe touches you differently than he touches anyone else,ā Hermione continued. āItās not just friendly. Heās gentle with you. Like heās afraid if he holds on too tightly, youāll disappear.ā
Your throat closed up. She wasnāt wrong. And that was what made it so much worse.
āI canātā¦ā You shook your head, struggling to find the words. āI donāt want to feel like this, Hermione.ā
She frowned. āWhy not?ā
āBecause itās Fred,ā you whispered, like saying his name too loud would unravel you. āHeās notāheās not someone who does real feelings. He flirts with everything that moves. He jokes when he doesnāt know what else to do. Heāsā¦ impossible to pin down. Heās not the kind of boy you fall for expecting something back.ā
Hermioneās voice was gentle but firm. āMaybe heās not the kind of boy who used to do real feelings. But maybe youāre the exception.ā
Your heart ached at that. It would be so much easier if you could believe it.
But youād seen Fred with other girls. Heard the way he flirted, laughed, turned everything into a joke. And even if he was different with you, what if it was just thatādifferentābut not more?
āYou donāt get it,ā you said, barely above a whisper. āIf I tell him how I feel and Iām wrong, I lose him. I lose this. I lose my best friend.ā
Hermione reached over and gently placed a hand on your arm. āI do get it,ā she whispered, āMore than you think. But you deserve to be loved out loud. And I think Fred might be a lot closer to that than you realize.ā
You looked over at her, eyes stinging.
āIām scared,ā you admitted.
āI know.ā Her smile was small, kind. āBut just because youāre scared doesnāt mean heās not worth the risk.ā
It had been three days since the party, and you still hadnāt stopped thinking about the way Fred had looked at you or the way he spoke to you. You couldnāt stop replaying Hermiones words of affirmation she informed you of.
āYou deserve to be loved out loud.ā
You didnāt argue with the concept of it- no, you knew your worth. You argued with the fact it was Fred. You knew it wouldnāt be him no matter how many times youād pray and hope just maybe- maybe heād be the one who would shout your name from rooftops. The one who would love you out loud. You knew it was a fantasy - a fantasy that youād have to be mad to believe would become true, because its Fred.
That led to reminding you on Hermiones other expression.
āBut maybe youāre the exception.ā
You didnāt believe that at all. You refused to. He must look at other girls like that right? You two were just friends. Itās what you both told everyone, so why act like theres something there?
Still, youād kept it to yourself. Like always.
It was now time for dinner, and the Great Hall buzzed with the usual chatter. You sat across from Ron and beside Hermione, absentmindedly poking at your bangers and mash while Harry launched into yet another rant about Snape deducting points for āexisting too loudly.ā
āHonestly, I breathed, Hermione,ā Harry said, gesturing with his fork. āAnd he docked me five points for being āaggressively present.ā What does that even mean?ā
Hermione sighed, though she was clearly holding back a smile. āIt means you were being annoying again.ā
āHe said it with fanfare,ā Harry added. āLike it was the highlight of his week.ā
You smiled weakly at their bickering, but your focus was slipping. It had been since the moment you caught sight of Fred down the table.
He was leaning in toward Angelina Johnson, all relaxed shoulders and easy grins, his arm casually draped behind her on her shoulder. Her hand was on his forearmālight, familiarāand he didnāt move. Didnāt shift away. If anything, he leaned closer when she said something in his ear, and he laughedāopen and loud and effortless. You noticed how she looked at him.
It shouldnāt have meant anything. He and Angelina had been friends for years. Teammates. Comfortable.
But youād always noticed the way she touched himālike she could. Like she had every right to. And she did, Fred wasnāt yours to claim.
And in the quietest, most insecure part of yourself, she had always been the reason you never said anything. Because if Fred Weasley were going to fall for someoneāreally fallāit would be someone like her.
Beautiful. Confident. Untouchable.
Not someone who spent the night rereading every word he said and pretending her heart didnāt race at his touch.
You looked down at your plate and tried to focus on the way your mashed potatoes were pooling into your sausage. Anything but the twisting in your chest.
āSo I told him,ā Harry continued, oblivious, āif he wants me to stay quiet, he can try giving me detention, but I refuse to stop breathing.ā
āVery brave of you,ā you muttered, your voice a little flatter than intended.
āThank you,ā Harry perked, then returning to his conversation about how āinsufferableā Snape was
Hermione looked over at you for a moment, quiet. You could feel her eyes on you like a weight. āYou okay?ā she asked softly, voice low enough that Ron and Harry wouldnāt hear.
āPerfect..ā You mumbled, eyes flickering between Fred and your plate.
Hermioneās eyes followed yours, hers landing on Fred and Angelina - which she immediately caught on. āHe doesnāt look at her how he looks at you though.ā
āIt doesnāt matter, Hermione.ā You bit out, voice sounding more bitter than you intended. āI canāt keep telling myself something is there when there isnāt. I refuse to pretend that heāll randomly wake up one morning and pick me. Because weāre friends. Just friends. And its stupid for me to pretend that theres something more lingering between us when itās just me.ā
You didnāt want to hear any of Hermioneās comforting words now- because you knew you wouldnāt believe it for a moment. Not when Fred was laughing like that, not when his hand stayed where it was, not when you felt like you were five inches shorter than usual and your chest was trying to cave in quietly while everyone else just enjoyed their dinner.
You pushed your food around and nodded along as Ron started going on about Quidditch lineups, and you told yourselfāagaināthat it was fine. Because even though it wasnāt far from fine, you had no say in it whatsoever. You and Fred were friends. Nothing less, Nothing more.
And you had to accept that.
You told yourself you had to start pulling away.
Whatever this thing wasāthis not-quite friendship, not-quite something moreāit was starting to hurt. It sat in your chest like weight, blooming every time he looked at you like you meant something and fading just as fast the second someone else made him laugh harder.
You started with small things. Sitting at the far end of the table. Taking longer routes to class. Turning the other way in corridors when you saw that familiar flash of ginger hair coming around the corner. You told yourself it was for the best. That you were being smart. That it was self-preservation.
But then you saw him in the halls. Again. And again. And alwaysā¦ she was there.
She wasnāt doing anything wrong, not really. She wasnāt draped over him or clinging to him in a way that demanded attentionābut she was there. Lingering at his side like it was natural. Like she belonged.
And the worst part? He didnāt look like he minded. If anything, he seemed at easeālaughing at something she said, leaning in close to hear her, nudging her shoulder as they walked.
It chipped away at you slowly. Like frostbite. You didnāt even notice how cold it made you until it started to numb everything else.
So when Fred tried to talk to youābecause of course he didāyou gave him almost nothing in return.
āHey, you heading to Charms?ā
āMind if I walk with you?ā
A shrug. āI suppose.ā
He tried to joke, keep it light, keep it Fred, but you didnāt meet him halfway. Didnāt give him the usual grin or sarcasm or playfulness he was used to.
Just short answers. Polite, distant. A version of yourself you didnāt even recognize.
He looked at you a little funny when you said goodbyeālike he was trying to figure out where he lost you, and whether or not he was supposed to chase after it.
āHey,ā he said, reaching out to gently catch your elbow just before you turned down the corridor. āHold on.ā
You stopped, but didnāt turn.
āYouāve been short with me,ā he said, not accusing, justā¦ confused. āBarely said more than a sentence all week.ā
You shrugged, eyes fixed on the stone floor. āBusy.ā
There was a pause, and then a quiet scoff. āLove, you donāt expect me to buy into that, do you?ā
You finally looked at him. He looked tired in a way you werenāt used to seeingālike the mask of constant jokes and easy charm had slipped for just a moment.
But it didnāt matter. You couldnāt let it matter.
āThen donāt,ā you said, voice sharper than you meant it to be.
Before he could say anything else, you turned on your heel and walked away, your footsteps echoing far too loudly in the quiet corridor.
Snow had settled thick across the rooftops of Hogsmeade, like icing on a gingerbread village. Icicles hung sharp and glinting from every overhang, and the crunch of boots on the snow-covered paths echoed softly with every step.
You were wrapped in your warmest coat, scarf snug around your neck, but the cold still bit at your fingertips through your gloves.
It was supposed to be a good day. One of the rare weekends where you could all go into the village, drink hot butterbeer, browse shops, feel normal. And for a while, it worked.
You and Harry had argued over whether the sweets at Honeydukes were superior to Zonkoās joke shop, while Ron had made it his mission to find the thickest socks in the village. Hermione kept insisting you all stop walking directly in the path of slush puddles, tugging you out of the way with narrowed eyes and half-smiles.
Eventually, the four of you ducked into the Three Broomsticks for warmth and steaming mugs of hot butterbeer. The fire crackled nearby, warming your cheeks and thawing the chill from your coat. For a moment, you let yourself settle. Let yourself pretend you werenāt avoiding anyone. That you werenāt trying to keep your heart from splitting open every time you saw Fred.
After finishing your drinks, you and Hermione wandered into a little winter shop tucked between two larger storefrontsāfull of knitted scarves, earmuffs, enchanted mittens that refused to get wet, and cloaks lined with soft furs and golden clasps. Hermione was flipping through a rack of deep green cloaks, going on about practicality and wool content when something over her shoulder stopped you cold.
He was across the store, walking with George, Lee, andāof courseāAngelina.
He looked good. Too good, honestly. That effortless charm about him, jacket open just enough to show his Gryffindor scarf, cheeks pink from the cold, and his hands animated as he joked with the group.
Angelina was laughing, nudging him with her shoulder. She lingered close. She always did. And as if it couldnāt get worse, Fred turned his head mid-laughāand his eyes met yours.
You looked away instantly, hands fumbling with the scarf you were holding. Hermione didnāt notice at first, still explaining how sheād been needing a new cloak for weeks.
āIām just going to pay,ā you said quickly, already stepping toward the counter.
Hermione blinked. āAlright, Iāll just look at these earmuffsāā
āNo,ā you said too quickly, too firmly. āActually, why donāt you go ahead to that bookshop you mentioned earlier? I think Iām just going to take a walk.ā
She gave you a look. āYou sure?ā
You nodded, offering a smile that was tight and definitely not convincing. āYeah. Justā¦ need a bit of air.ā
And then you were gone. You didnāt even remember what you bought. You just needed to not be there. Not see him. Not feel that crushing ache rise every time you remembered all the things you could never say. It had been weeks since you spoke with him, but it felt just like yesterday. Too soon. Too early.
After you turned the corner, you let out a shaky sigh. Due to the cold and your heartās pounding within your chest.
Before you could even think, a hand grabbed your armāfirm, urgentāand before you could react, you were pulled into the narrow alleyway between two shops, boots scraping against packed snow, your heart thrashing in your chest.
āWhat theālet go of me!ā You slapped wildly at the arm until the grip loosened.
āOi, alrightābloody hellāstop hitting me!ā
You froze, your hand dropping mid-swing.
He stepped back, holding his hands up, breathing hard. āHi.ā
āAre you bloody mad?!ā you snapped, your voice sharp, angry, and very much covering the panic and heartbreak roiling underneath. āYou donāt just drag people into dark alleyways!ā
āI had to talk to you!ā
āThereās this thing called speaking like a normal person, Fred!ā
He ran a hand through his hair, flushed, snow catching in his lashes. āYou havenāt been speaking to me at all. Itās been fuckinā weeks.ā
You folded your arms. āIāve been busy.ā
āDonāt.ā His voice cracked a littleājust enough to silence you. āDonāt give me that. Youāve barely looked at me in weeks. You wonāt sit near me, wonāt talk to me, you disappear when I walk in the room. Itās like Iāve done something awful and you wonāt even tell me what it is.ā
Fred took a shaky breath and kept going.
āI miss you,ā he said, voice raw and exposed. āI miss everything. I miss your laugh in the common room, how you always threaten to hex me whenever i steal your homework, I miss your smile. I miss knowing youāll be there when I look up. I missā¦ you.ā
You looked away, but he stepped closer.
āAnd I donāt get it,ā he said, eyes searching yours. āWhat did I do? Did I screw something up? Did I say something? Justājust tell me, and Iāll fix it. Justādonāt leave me like this.ā
You swallowed thickly, heart racing. And thenā
āIām in love with you.ā
Your words had sliced through the cold air like a blade, sudden and shaking.
āIām in love with you,ā you said again, more quietly this time. āAnd Iāve been trying to pretend Iām not, but itās exhausting, Fred. And it hurts. It hurts to see you with her, even if thereās nothing going on. Even if sheās just your friend. Because Iām not just your friend. Not anymore. Not in my head.ā
His mouth parted like he wanted to speak, but you didnāt let him.
āYou always made me feel like maybeā¦ maybe there was something there. And I held onto that. Every time you looked at me like I mattered. Every time you made me laugh when I wanted to cry. I thought maybeā¦ just maybe you saw me the way I saw you.ā
You shook your head, voice cracking.
āBut then sheās always there, and you never push her away, and I know itās stupid, but I thoughtāI thought if I got some distance, Iād stop hurting. But it didnāt work. It just made everything worse.ā
Silence. Thick. Cold. Endless.
He stepped forward, cupped your face in his hands, and kissed you.
It wasnāt rushed. It wasnāt clumsy or desperate. It was gentle. Like something heād been carrying for far too long, and could finally let go.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, breath trembling.
āIt was always you,ā he whispered. āItās always been you. I donāt know how you didnāt see it. I flirted with half the castle just to hide how badly I wanted you. Because I was terrified of scaring you off. Terrified of making you uncomfortable. Terrified that if I wanted you too loudly, Iād lose you completely.ā
You blinked up at him, tears brimming, your chest aching in that awful, beautiful way when hope finally claws its way through.
āI donāt want anyone else,ā he said. āYouāre not some backup plan. Youāre not some secret I was waiting to get over. You areāyouāve always beenāthe only one Iāve ever wanted.ā
āAnd if you give me even half a chance, I swear Iāll never let you wonder again.ā
Your hands gripped the front of his coat. āFred Weasleyāif you walk away after saying all that, Iām hexing you.ā
He grinnedāreally grinnedāand kissed you again. The snow kept falling, yet the cold didnāt touch you.
And for the first time in a long time, you didnāt feel like you had to lie to yourself anymore.
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