A/N: Fred Weasley has always always ALWAYS been my fav and I love reading fics like this but I decided to add extra gooey lore and molly angst bc bae went thru a lot
Warning(s): Fred being protective, Arthur basically being scared of his wife, mentions of death and loss. Reader is a pureblood from a rich family, distant relative to the blacks and distant cousin of draco (all purebloods are related somehow)
Word Count: 3.3K
Credit to @diviniyae for the dividers!! <3
“Baby, c’mon.”
Fred had been pleading with you for weeks now to spend your summer vacations at the burrow. Ever since the two of you started dating in your fourth year, you’d grown impossibly close to all his siblings, even Percy, for Godric’s sake. That’s how perfect you were for him.
He was known for being reckless, impulsive, and uncontrollable. He still was, but his storm had mellowed ever since he’d been with you. Pranks made to entertain instead of embarrass, jokes without singling out. He was still the same flashy, charismatic showman; now he was more mature, more reasonable. Loud as ever, no doubt of it, but he’d finally been balanced.
You were like wind to his fire; you might amp it down or fuel it, but you were always there. Your snarky remarks and witty comebacks offered him the perfect challenge; he’d hit the jackpot. You two could joke and laugh without offence or insecurity, without late nights wondering if a joke had a hidden meaning behind it because you read each other effortlessly. He never thought he’d fall for a Slytherin, especially not one with a family like yours.
You were part of the sacred twenty-eight and additionally were a very distant relative of Bellatrix Lestrange, Narcissa Malfoy, and Andromeda Tonks. They were your second or third aunts. Purebloods always married within their circle; people had complex relative histories. It even technically made you Draco’s distant cousin. The thought alone should’ve driven him away, but he wasn’t like that. Even if you were Bellatrix’s own daughter, he’d go up to you, because that’s how he is; what he does. He was fearless in a way that made one question whether it was rooted in stupidity, naivety, or maybe possible genius.
“Freddie,” you breathed, eyes soft with guilt. “I’m not sure I should, you know, your parents aren’t very fond of me,” you said softly.
It hurt you immensely that his parents had a distaste for you despite your best efforts. You saw it in the way Fred never showed you any letters his mother sent him unless he was sure you weren’t mentioned once in them. His mother wasn’t exactly subtle.
You couldn’t blame them for it, though a part of you was still bitter. Your family name was loud, your parents were sharp-tongued and prejudiced against anything that wasn’t a rich pureblood elitist. People heard your name and already drew conclusions that lingered; impressions of a cold-hearted, calculating, ruthless heir without empathy or tolerance.
Because of these assumptions, no one bothered to disprove them, opting to avoid you instead. Everyone but Fred. People called it stupidity, a death wish. But all those whispers and anticipation of a hex hitting his chest were eliminated after you threw your head back in a cackle, not even ten minutes after he came up to you.
The image was broken as soon as your laughter was heard; saccharine and normal like any other girl in the castle. And just like that, people came up to you more, returned smiles in the hallways, and didn’t stiffen when you walked past. Hogwarts turned comforting, more like home than your own. Fred stuck to you through it all, and you slowly won over each and every one of his siblings over the past seven years. You won over Charlie before he graduated when you were in your third year, and Percy warmed up to you when he caught you tutoring the twins in your second year. Ron was the toughest to break, but you finally got him when he was in his second year and you in your fourth, right after you and Fred began to date. He had passed the courtyard on his way between classes and saw you and Fred sitting out there, together. You were going on a tangent, hands on your hips as you scolded him for something he didn’t hear, but what really did it was how Fred reacted.
Fred Weasley, his big brother, was affected by nothing, brushing off punishments and detentions like dust on a coat, was pouting, head hanging as he stared at the floor, hands behind his back in compliance as you chided him. Ron decided something that day; if Fred let someone do that to him, he was exactly where he wanted to be. Ginny was by far the easiest to connect with. The poor girl screamed and nearly cried when she saw you, yelping about finally having another sister. You didn’t dare correct her. You even charmed Bill when you met him at the 1994 Quidditch World Cup Finals between Bulgaria and Finland.
You hadn’t realised Mr and Mrs Weasley themselves would be the toughest nuts to crack; they were stereotypical. It’s unsurprising given their age, but their persistence was staggering. Firmly written opinions sent to all their children about you, and long, long lectures Fred had to sit through about deceit and how people are images of their parents. It didn’t matter how much Fred defended you, how much his siblings vouched for your character; Molly was clear, and Arthur never opposed his wife.
“My love, light of my life, honeybear,” Fred continued, his hands travelling further up your arm as he pulled you closer to him. You let him with a lingering pout. “My parents can bugger off for all I care; they can’t do or say anything if I’m there. Trust me on that,” he continued, his eyes wide and pleading. He didn’t play with you; you were the most important thing in his life, and he made sure you were treated like such.
You went silent, thinking about it, but you were weak; you knew that. Fred Weasley, knowingly or not, was your weakness. You weren’t smiley, friendly, or easy; with him, you turned impossibly soft. It was almost a sickness; he calmed your rage within seconds, and you shut down his life-threatening pranks with a single look. “Okay,” you relented. He lit up completely with a gasp, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug, face in your hair.
“Ginny might cry when I tell her.” He said with a breathy laugh, making your heart swell. God, you loved that girl. “I’ll tell her myself.” You mumbled back, turning your head to kiss his neck before pulling back.
You were a bundle of nerves the entire train ride to the Burrow, everyone noticed. Ginny offered up her skincare, Ron passed you extra chicken from the lunch he packed from Hogwarts, even George didn’t try to slip you a nosebleed nougat; he had more sense than that.
Fred kept you close the entire time, tucked into his side. You saw the tension in the hard set of his jaw as he looked out the window. His hands flexed from where they were on your waist, squeezing the soft flesh every once in a while merely to assure himself of your presence.
When you reached, one thing became abundantly clear: Molly and Arthur had certainly not been told of your visit. You saw it in the way her beaming smile harshly fell from her face once she spotted you next to Fred. She grabbed him, pulling him away.
You felt nauseous, smiling politely at Arthur as he gave you a forced smile in turn, his hesitance to shake your hand only added to the twist in your stomach. Ron took your suitcase, and Ginny took your hand, squeezing it in support as she tugged you to the car.
You turned your head to see Fred now proper scowling at his mother before he simply turned and walked off in the middle of her rant, face changing when he saw you look over, giving you as soft a smile as he could manage.
It didn’t get better at the burrow. Molly never looked directly at you, spoke to you through her children. ‘Ginny, she’ll sleep in your room.’ ‘Is she going to eat, Fred?’ ‘Ron, will she need her very own sheets?’ You saw the way Arthur winced, but said nothing. He himself was incredibly awkward near you.
You didn’t like it, Fred absolutely didn’t. Glaring and hissing a sharp “why don’t you ask her herself?” that Molly always promptly ignored. It went on for two weeks; Molly stopped laughing when you entered a room, and Arthur found excuses to leave. Whenever you were with their kids, something always came up. You and Ginny giggling and eating ice cream in bed? Molly needed her help sewing. You and Percy discussing the NEWTS? Arthur needed him to proofread something.
Fred was the main victim. Suddenly, he was needed all around the house as soon as the two of you were able to be together. The dishes, setting the table, helping with lunch, and helping load the laundry. It was so targeted and so obvious.
It all shattered during dinner one night. Fred and George decided this was the perfect time to talk about the fact that they’d be dropping out to open their own joke shop. Everyone knew Molly wouldn’t support it; she’d faced poverty. The thought of her sons not completing their education to start a shop made her all kinds of angry.
So, on went the screaming. Arguing at the table as George and Fred quite literally fought for their business with their mother, while Molly kept screaming about homelessness and how they’d never succeed.
It reached a point where she looked at you for the first time since the railway station and growled a low “You.”
You stiffened; everyone did. “You did this, didn’t you? Think it’s amusing, girl, making these two believe they can make it? Without suppliers? Investors? Nothing? You’re ruining my son's life!” She hissed, screaming the last part. You flinched, eyes widening.
“M-Misses Weasley, I don’t– I just want him to be happy-” You choked, but she slammed her hand on the table with a scoff of outrage.
“You don’t understand anything. People like you, sheltered, protected–you’ve never had to work for anything a day in your life, never struggled. ” She continued, the rage in her voice something no one at the table had ever heard before. “Rich, pompous, overconfident people like you are exactly the folk we don’t want to get mixed with—”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, shut up!”
Everyone whipped their heads around to Fred, the usually cheeky and unserious boy, now straight scowling. “George and I are doing this with or without your approval, Mum. I truly don’t care about what you say in accordance with the business, nor about your hopes for our success, but you will watch it when you talk to her.” He hissed, pushing back his chair with a harsh screech before throwing his napkin on the table, grabbing your hand to pull you up as well.
Molly was mortified, and Arthur looked like he’d been spat on. “Frederick Gideon Weasley, you will sit–”
“Mum, please!” Ginny huffed, making your heart clench. The poor girl looked close to tears. She sniffled, turning to hug George’s arm. Molly’s scowl broke at the sight of her only daughter in such peril.
Fred dragged you up the stairs to his room. He’d gotten his own ever since Charlie moved into his own cottage somewhere in Scotland, closer to the dragons had been his only justification before taking off.
Your eyes were wide, heart pounding horrifically loud in your chest. You looked at the back of his head the entire walk to his room until he finally slammed the door.
“Fred!” You whisper-hissed, hands trembling with adrenaline. He dragged a hand down his face as he turned to you, the other wrapping around the small of your back. “This doesn’t help my whole image with your mother, she’s gonna think I’m manipulating you against her or something—”
“She’s not that manic.” He mumbled, ducking his head into your neck before taking a deep inhale. “Hopefully.”
He hugged you around your waist, tugging you into him as he leaned into you. You could feel he was doing this more to calm himself than offer any comfort, but you didn’t mind much, dragging a hand through his hair. You felt the breath leaving him.
You could hear the thud of footsteps climbing up to his room, and feel the way his shoulders tightened. He nudged you behind him as he turned to the door, half expecting his mother to come bursting in, but all he heard was three soft knocks.
“Fred?” Came a soft, older tone. His father, Arthur.
He didn’t hesitate opening it, letting the lesser of two evils in. Arthur looks guilty, almost hesitant, when he steps in, mouth open, before he shuts it. “Fred, my boy, your mother— both of us, we want the best for you. The shop, I-I’m not saying you shouldn’t follow your dreams, but you can’t expect her to be okay with it.”
“That’s not why I stormed out of there, Dad.” Fred huffed in turn, narrowing his eyes as he grabbed your waist, pulling you to stand next to him. “You know that.”
His father clasped his hands together, glancing towards you for a moment. It was clear he was choosing his words as carefully as he could. “Freddie, she– she’s not what we had in mind for you.” He said delicately, you could see Fred’s shoulders tighten.
“Her family, people like her, haven’t been good to people like us.” He continued, you took Fred’s hand as a reminder to keep himself regulated. It was odd, having to regulate his anger instead of him regulating yours. “Do her parents even know about you?”
That made you stiffen, hanging your head. You hadn’t told your parents, certain they’d forbid you from seeing him. You’d talked to Fred. He understood. Still, admitting he was a secret boyfriend was degrading.
“It doesn’t matter whether she’s told her parents. I trust her, that’s my choice. She’s brilliant, dad, you and mum would know if you gave her a singular chance.” Fred muttered, venom dripping from each syllable. Arthur felt the bitter truth in his words, nodding solemnly.
“No, you’re.. You’re right. I know.” He relented, looking at you apologetically. “I’m sorry, dear.” He all but breathed. You just offered a soft smile, nodding.
“It’s– We have lived through a lot, Fred.” Now it was Fred’s turn to stiffen. “Your mother lost Fabian and Gideon in the war. To people from families like.. Well, hers.”
Fred sighed, squeezing your hand. “I know about them. She’s told us. But, Dad, things are changing. Times are changing. She can’t be bitter forever. Your mother was Cedrella Black! Does that mean she hates that part of you?!”
Arthur stammered. That was enough. “Why is it different for y/n, huh? Haven’t you been cruel enough? I’d like you two grown adults to realise you’ve been bedevilling a girl who’s nearly three times younger than you!” Fred continued, finishing with a scoff. He knew he was loud—knew the whole damn house probably heard. He couldn’t find it in him to care; he almost hoped his mother heard.
Arthur just nodded, unable to gather the words to continue the conversation, exiting the room.
You shuddered, Fred pulled you in.
Safe to say, no one minded if you spent the night in Fred’s room that night.
Morning rolled around, the tension still present like a living, breathing presence. Fred didn’t leave you for a single second, and no one tried. Neither Arthur nor Molly pretended he was needed anywhere; they knew Fred wouldn’t entertain it.
To his credit, Arthur really did seem like he was trying. Wished you good morning, offered you tea when he was making any, even went as far as to ask for your future job plans. Fred was already grateful, smiling whenever he heard it. He eased up on his father, let himself relax around you when his father was near.
But Molly was a woman on a mission. She made sure it was known that Arthur was alone in his acceptance. She let you serve yourself during meals, dramatically moved away from you like you had Spattergoit. You chose to ignore it, a smaller, pettier part of you made you extra nice to her in turn.
All of the Weaslings (apart from Bill and Charlie) were around the coffee table, playing exploding snap. The air was filled with hysterical giggles and pure orange-haired competitiveness. Arthur was off at work, and Molly was serving snacks, very pointedly placing the plates as far from you as she could.
You shot her a smile dipped in honey. “Oh, thank you, Miss Weasley! You’re so good to me. I couldn’t be more grateful.” You cooed, making Fred stifle a snort. His mother looked appalled, muttering a quick ‘no matter’ before rushing back to the kitchen.
You’d come to accept it, almost took it as a sad fact of life. Ready to fight Molly Weasley for the rest of your life.
Then came that fated night.
You couldn’t sleep. George thought it was genius to watch some low-budget horror movie. You crept down the stairs of the burrow to the kitchen to take a glass of water and, potentially, a cookie Molly made.
You filled the glass before the light flicked on from behind you, startling you. Damn you, George.
“Oh.” Molly mumbled when she saw it was you, hesitantly walking into her kitchen to grab something from the fridge. It was rather early, four am. You didn’t think she’d be up so early.
There was a horribly awkward moment where neither spoke; you simply drank your water at the counter. Then, the silence was shattered.
“I had brothers, you know.” She mumbled; you immediately knew where this was going. You looked over at her; her expression was something you couldn’t pick apart.
You nodded, she continued.
“They joined the order. First Wizarding War. I’m sure you’ve met Harry. They met his parents there. Young, stupid and ready to fight.”
Her voice thickened, your heart sank.
“Twins. Like my Fred and George. Good people, amazing to me.” She kept going, unwrapping dough she got from the freezer. “Died when I was pregnant with Percy.” Her voice broke around the word died and you suddenly felt like a monster.
“Took five deatheaters to kill them. Antonin Volohov was the only one who was named in the report, the rest having taken their own lives once captured.” It was unsettling, the things this woman had gone through. It made your heart ache for her.
“Volohov worked closely with Bellatrix. I guess I just… can’t accept that a trace of what killed my brothers lives in you.”
You felt your throat tighten, tears stinging your eyes as the woman placed the small balls of frozen dough on a baking tray.
You cleared your throat, moving to wash your hands, drying them, then wordlessly assisting her.
“My mum once killed my pet mouse because attachment was a weakness to her.” You mumbled, and she shifted to make room for you. Not to get away, but to make space. You noticed.
“I cried to my father, but he offered no solace. He said nothing should be important enough to bring me to tears.” You rolled the dough into a ball, passing it to her. “Met Bellatrix once. I was.. Maybe seven. She threw her shoes at me when I touched her wand, grabbed me by the hair and presented me to my parents like a fox she killed.”
Molly hummed in acknowledgement, but there was something softer. A sympathy.
“I may not hate her as much as you do, I may never will, but I truly despise and loathe her very being. She’s hurt you much more than she hurt me, but her cruelty to more and more people gives me more and more reason to be as different from her as I can.”
The room settled into comfortable silence after that. She put the cookies in the oven, and you washed your hands.
As soon as you turned to leave, she took your hand. It was gentle, not like she was trying to restrain you. You turned, and she placed a kiss to your forehead before walking away. “Goodnight, dearie.”
You bit back the smile growing on your face, sheer joy filling your chest.
summary: Your coworker Arthur Weasley is sick and tired of slipping his sons' names into conversation in an attempt to grasp your interest in them, so he pulls out photos of them and forms a plan to turn his work daughter into a daughter in law
wc: 2.3k+
a/n: thank you to whoever requested this one, i had so much fun writing it! was very much thinking about ted danson in 'a man on the inside' while writing arthur!
The instant Mr. Weasley pulls out his wallet, you know it’s over for you. The clasp is barely holding the wallet shut, printed images stuffed between its leather flaps. You know what’s coming next. Somehow, every time you find yourself working closely Arthur, he manages to slip his children into conversation, particularly the oldest ones. You bet that if you ever meet them in real life, you’d instantly know which is which purely based on their father’s description of them.
“You should come by to dinner one night and meet the family. You’re part of my family now, so it’s only fair that the others get to meet you.” You laugh softly, shifting your weight from foot to foot as Arthur puts his glasses on, pulling the images out of his wallet. All you had done was drop off an artefact found at a crime scene involving both wizards and muggles, but of course a five minute trip would turn into twenty five minute conversation. You've barely even closed the case file and he's already started talking.
“This is a photo from our spring dinner. Bill and Charlie weren’t there, but those are the kids, you know their names.” You purse your lips to hide your amusement at the way Arthur instantly dismisses his younger children, then pulls out a photo of him and another redhead side by side. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, moving the photo closer to you so you can see the details of his son’s skin tight shirt. “That’s Charlie, he works at a dragon sanctuary. Strongest one in the pack.”
You nod slowly, smiling at Arthur. He’s very aware that you know of his intentions, but he keeps his eyes on you as he turns to the next image. “This is Bill, he’s the head of the curse breaking department at a bank in egypt, but he recently got a job at Gringotts, so he’s finally coming home.” You flicker your eyes down to the image and hate yourself for the way your eyes instantly widen in pleasant surprise at the sight of the handsome man in the image. He stands with an arm around his younger sister, both of them carrying brooms in hand and looking sweaty and joyful after what looks like a family game of quidditch. “Well, it’s good to see that they all get along well, right?”
Arthur takes off his glasses, hooking them into the collar of his shirt, and shrugs. “Well, it depends on the day. Bill gets along with all of them, of course. Everyone loves Bill - very sociable guy.” You smile at Arthur, nodding at him. “Don’t worry Arthur, I believe you. Look, I was told to go inspect some artefacts from a new scene down in the lab, but I’ll join you for lunch, okay?”
Arthur spends all his time until lunch thinking about the reaction you had at the sight of Bill. Of course, it helps that he chose the best photo of his son; happy, caring, sweaty, playful. He had a feeling you’d like Bill over Charlie — he assumed you liked taller and older men. Not like Charlie who’s shorter than most of his siblings and a couple of months younger than you. Arthur may be a friendly old man, but he’s not by any means clueless. He knows you keep declining his family dinner invitations because you think it would be awkward or weird, and not because you’ve already made plans in advance. There’s no way you have the energy for your social life to keep you busy every single friday night for the past year. But he’ll find a way. Actually, he has found a way, he just needs to put his plan into action.
He picks a night he knows you’re in the office late, on a day where you’re wearing your nicest outfit. He doesn’t just want you to be impressed by Bill, but he wants you to impress Bill too. It’ll be effortless from your part, of course, because you won’t even know what’s happening. Arthur will say goodbye to you as he walks out of the bullpen and you’ll wave him off before turning back to your work. He knows your workload is heavier than his, and he really shouldn’t be complicating things for you but this is for the greater good, he tells himself. Arthur continues his own night as per usual. He heads home, has dinner with Molly and the kids, and just before dessert, he stages a workplace emergency.
Without telling his family, he pretends to have a personal epiphany, then begins sending a patronus message to his boss. “Sir, I just remembered I’m supposed to submit some signed documents by tonight, but David never sent them my way. I’m not exactly sure what the documents entail and it it’s just my signatures needed - how do you want me to proceed?” When Molly asks what’s wrong and if he needs to return to work, Arthur shakes his head in reassurance, telling her someone will sort things out.
Within ten minutes you’ll be here, Arthur knows that much for sure. This past week you’ve been working on a case that needed Arthur’s help in regards to the muggle artefacts, so whatever he needs, it will have your signature on it too.
You’re glad for the excuse to stretch your legs when you’re called into Richard’s office. He gives you a large file that David forgot to hand you, and tells you to drop it off at Arthur’s once you’ve finished signing in all the right places. It takes you a moment to sign everything, and you decide that the universe sent this to you as a sign to cut your night short after giving Arthur the documents. So you pack your things quickly and make your way to the apparation station at the ground floor. Arthur loves his family dinners, so you don’t think he’s going to be too thrilled about you interrupting with work, but he’s a sweet man. He’s not going to turn you away.
Your sleepiness affects your apparition skills, and you end up at the end of the Weasleys’s driveway instead of at their front door. You can hear joyful laughs coming from behind the house, warm lighting peeking through the open windows. You’ve been here once, but it was during term time with none of the kids at home. Now, the atmosphere is completely transformed. It must be amazing to have a group of friends right there whenever you come home. Family that you can play messy games of quidditch with, and annoy each other even after the lights have come off.
You knock on the front door three times, and instantly, the noise all around you dims. You hear someone call out “Was that the front door?” It takes about five seconds for the front door to swing open, and you instantly rethink the entire situation when Bill Weasley is the one stood facing you. He smiles at you, the slightest confusion hidden behind his irises, and when he finally speaks, you feel your chest grow heavy.
“Hi, Bill Weasley.”
“Hi, uh, I have some documents for your dad?”
Bill doesn’t get the chance to respond before Arthur is calling your name and entering the frame. “Come inside, dear, come in! What a pleasant surprise, I thought Richard would be sending David or some other unpleasant company.” You laugh softly at Arthur’s words, offering him the thick file. Bill moves out of the way when his dad puts a hand on your shoulder, guiding you into the house, and he takes a moment to fully take you in.
He should have known.
His dad has never been slick with his moves, but Bill thought that since you work with him so closely, the mentions of your name weren’t slipped in conversation for Bill’s sake. As Arthur walks to the spotless dining table, he says “We work together! Albeit she works as an agent for inter-magiciary crimes and has a much more important job than I do.”
“Oh come on, half my cases I couldn’t solve without you, Arthur. You’re my forensic expert, as the muggles say.” Bill sees the way his dad’s eyes completely light up at your words, and despite not knowing what the meaning of your words are, he chuckles quietly. “Wouldn’t have taken you for an agent.” He says, eyeing your cinching button up and the patterned skirt you’re wearing. He likes your boots and jewellery too — they’re cool for such an intimidating job.
“I know,” Arthur begins as he flips open the file, “Too stylish for an agent, especially if you take a look at everyone else we were with.” You turn to Bill, smiling softly at him. “Arthur tells me you’re a curse breaker. Gringotts is a difficult place to get a position in, you know? Congratulations on that.”
Bill laughs nervous, bringing a hand up to rub his forehead. “Oh he told you about that? It’s not even finalised yet, but thank you.”
“Oh, he’s just thrilled to have you back home. Counts down the days at work every morning.”
“It’s true! What’s wrong in wanting to have my family reunited again?” You and Bill both laugh softly at Arthur’s words, and Bill rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, one might think you’re one of his kids with the way he speaks about you too.”
You smile widely, nudging Arthur softly and teasing “Oh Arthur you softie, do you really?”
Fully serious, Arthur straightens up and nods. “Yes, I worry about you sometimes. You never mention your family to me and I don’t want you to be lonely and sad all on your own.” Your expression softens at your coworker’s words and you tilt your head to the side, telling him “Hey, don’t you worry about me, I’ve got plenty of friends.”
“Friends that will bring you soup when you’re ill?” He questions, and you freeze, tilting your head even further as you think his question through. “Good question, I haven’t been ill recently enough to test that.”
“You have a healthy lifestyle, don’t you? Bill, she plays quidditch! A fan of the Chudley Canons too.” Bill smiles, placing his hands on his hips. “Ron would be thrilled to hear that. What position do you play?” He asks, and you shrug, “I’ve played as chaser and seeker for the team at hogwarts, but whenever I play now I just play chaser. What about you?”
“I’m a keeper. You played at hogwarts, you say? What house?” At his question, you turn to Arthur protection, but only find slight panic in his eyes. He instantly turns away from you, flipping to another page and quickly scribbling his signature, and you hear Bill’s teasing “Oh no.”
“Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it?” You joke, pulling your hair out of your face. Bill carefully takes in the newly exposed slivers of your face, eyeing the earrings that decorate your ears. “It’s been just about centuries since I’ve graduated, so I guess not.”
A flick of paper as Arthur shuts the file averts your attention from Bill, and you reach over to take the files from him. He shakes his head, saying “I’ll owl it back, don’t you worry.” You raise an eyebrow at the older man, clarifying “You’re going to owl classified documents?” Arthur nods — a response that tells you he’ll drop it off early in the morning tomorrow. “Come on, Weasley, give me the file or I’ll tell your wife.”
Bill cackles loudly at your friendly threat. Never in a million years would he have imagined a woman even younger than him to call his dad ‘Weasley’ in friendly banter. He finds it endearing that you’re both so comfortable with each other despite the obvious age gap between you. “But look at you, you’re all ready to go home.” Arthur complains, huffing as snatch the files from him again.
“It’s not like there’s anyone waiting for me other than a cat who’s probably already asleep. Enjoy your night with your family, Arthur.”
“That upsets me.” The man says as you begin walking away, and you look back to shoot him an amused smile as you leave. Bill follows you to the front door, and you both linger there, waiting for the other to say something. “What year did you graduate?” He asks, and you hug the file to your chest as you say “1990.”
“Oh, you probably shared classes with my brother.” His eyebrows furrow as he thinks deeply, adding “We probably played quidditch games against each other.”
“Did you play that game where that slytherin girl got hit with a bludger by someone from her own team and she fell out of the sky and people said that she did it purposefully to skip Snape’s classes?”
Bill laughs with a nod of his head, leaning against the doorway. “Yeah, yeah I remember that. Charlie was the one who told me about that rumour.” You open your arms to gesture to yourself, announcing “The one and only.” Bill’s eyes widen, his jaw going slack. “You’re fucking with me.”
“No, and I can also confirm that the rumours were true. I hadn’t done any of my potions essays and didn’t fancy a detention that week.”
You and Bill both go silent, and you keep your eyes on the tall man in front of you despite noticing the way his dad lingers in the living room behind him. “We should definitely have a drink and discuss all of these crossovers. I can’t believe my dad’s coworker went to school with me.”
You shrug your shoulders, arguing “Well technically we don’t even work in the same departments, so… Yeah, send me an owl and we’ll sort something. Bye Arthur!”
From the living room, Arthur makes a surprised noise, shy to have been caught spying on you. He wishes you farewell as you leave, keeping his eyes on Bill as his oldest son shuts the door. As Bill spins around slowly, he mumbles “I hate to say this, but you’re actually onto something.”
:: being friends with ginny had it's perks. those perks being her older brother of course
wc: 3.3k
warnings: purposeful lowercase
being friends ginny meant being taken in by her family as if you had the weasley name yourself.
at some point you'd stopped being "ginny's friend" and simply become another addition to the burrow. it was normal by now. molly placing an extra plate out on the dinning table before even asking if you were coming. arthur greeting you with that same warmth he greeted his own children with. and the twins had long since given up knocking before barging into your guest room whenever you stayed over.
there was no ceremonial moment or pinpointed day it happened. one day you were just a nervous first year, clinging to ginny's side. and the next you were spending holidays at the burrow, borrowing jumpers from the overflowing coat rack, and getting dragged into family arguments that had absolutely nothing to do with you.
the weasleys stopped asking if you'd be joining them for the holidays. instead they asked when you'd be arriving.
"absolutely not."
you looked up just in time to see molly swat fred's hand away from the plate of freshly made scones.
"mum," fred complained. "you're starving your own son."
"i fed you twenty minutes ago."
"that was twenty minutes ago."
from across the table george chimed in, nodding solemnly. "a growing boy needs nourishment."
"you're seventeen"
"still growing."
you snorted quietly, taking a sip of your tea.
fred's head immediately whipped in your direction.
"oh, you think that's funny, do you?"
without giving you a chance to answer, he leant over the table and snagged a piece of toast straight off your plate.
"fred!"
"finders keepers."
it wasn't unusual. not anymore at least.
there had been dozens of moments over the years that insinuated the fact that the weasleys had quietly grown to claim you as one of their own.
like the time molly had knitted you your own christmas sweater. or when arthur took pride in showing off your exam results. or even when percy had spent a full blown twenty minutes giving you a lecture on homework and punctuality. which was perhaps the greatest sign of acceptance anyone could receive.
unfortunately. being treated like family also came with its consequences.
specifically, the lack of respect for personal property.
"has anyone seen my coat?"
"no."
"negative."
"not that i know of."
the responses came far too quickly.
you narrowed your eyes towards the twins who seemed far too focused on books they'd never cared to read.
"you're wearing it, for merlins sake."
fred paused, looking down at the sleeves on his arms.
then looked back at you.
"oh, would you look at that."
"i think she's right, fred." george squinted from the opposite side of the couch.
"brilliant observation george." ginny said sarcastically from the dining table where she had books splayed out before her.
"thank you."
"take it off, it's my favourite coat."
"it was your favourite coat," fred corrected "happens to be mine too. it's what we call shared custody."
"you stole it, that is not the same!"
"borrowed."
"it's been missing for months."
"extended borrowing." he shrugged with that stupid half tugged smile like he did no wrong.
"unbelievable." the words left your mouth as a mutter while you narrowed your eyes.
"y/n, there you are dear!" molly practically cooed.
you smiled, turning to face her as she gave you a short embrace. "heading out are you?" she asked, looking you head to toe.
"just visiting the library. i've got a few books i need to return."
"ah, perfect. would you mind stopping by the bakery and grabbing me a few things?" she clasped her hands in front of her chest.
"oh-, of course.."
"fantastic, let me write you a list."
you paused. your mouth opening to say something but closing quickly after no words came out. a few things never actually meant a few. you should've known that by now.
"here you are," she said after she'd scribbled down on a teared piece of paper, handing it to you.
she brushed her hands against her apon. "ron! RON!" molly called and rons head poked out over the stair railings shortly after.
"be a dear and go with y/n to pick some things up for me!"
"why me?" baffled at the fact that he'd been the chosen lackey out of everyone again.
"because i asked."
"that's hardly a reason."
"it's the only one your getting."
"it's no use mum." fred shook his head with pursed lips and raised brows.
"yeah. that boy's no good." george agreed.
she placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head and now looking at the two boys on the couch. with a shake of her head she spoke. "you lot can go with her than."
"now look what you've done fred." george hit the back of his brothers head.
"what i did? if anything it's ron's bloody fault!"
a moment of silence past as molly waited for someone to step up.
"don't make me come over there." she warned.
"i can't, i'm busy." george said, raising the open book in his hand.
her gaze flicked to fred who looked a second away from finding a similar excuse. but the thought vanished as soon as he met his mothers gaze.
"what-"
"get up!"
he threw the blanket off of himself and stood up.
"that's a'boy," she clapped a hand on his back. "now off you's go, i need those before dark!"
and with one last reminder from molly not to forget the eggs, and another from fred insisting he hadn't agreed to carry anything, you two set off down the winding dirt path. getting further and further from the burrow as you saught towards the village.
for the first few minutes neither of you spoke.
not because it was awkward.
quite the opposite really.
silence wasn't a foreign nor uncomfortable concept within yours and fred's relationship. years of friendship had seen to that. so now, walking side by side with nothing but the sound of the gravel crunching beneath your feet felt anything but uncommon.
fred was the first one to break it.
"so..."
you glanced over.
"library?" eyes gesturing to the tote bag of books slung over your shoulder.
you nodded
"thrilling day you've got planned."
"ha-ha." you've grown immune to fred's useless attempts at humour.
"let me guess. an encyclopaedia of moss?"
"no."
"the fascinating world of flobberworms?"
"definitely not."
"the life and times of the goblin liaison office?"
"i don't even think that's a real book."
"it should be."
"for who?"
"people who have trouble sleeping."
you shook your head with a chuckle. "i'm returning a novel."
fred stopped dramatically. "a novel?"
"yes."
"you've changed."
"i have, have i?"
"i hardly recognise you anymore."
"oh shut up." you rolled your eyes, nudging him with your elbow. "at least i read."
"i read."
"the labels on zonko's products don't count."
fred placed a hand on his heart.
"that was unnecessarily hurtful."
"wasn't wrong though." you muttered under your breath.
you finally found yourselves walking along the village pathways after some time. making a beeline towards the outside of the small library.
"do i have to come in?"
"yes."
"i think i'm allergic."
"to books?"
"to silence," he said, like it was some revelation before continuing.
"can't you take them in another day?"
"they have to be returned today."
"details."
"that's... quite literally the most important detail." you cocked a brow to which he grinned.
"don't be an idiot." the bell above the door chimed as you tugged him in after you. you made your way to the circulation desk to return the novel while fred began to wander aimlessly through shelves of books.
"back already?" the librarian asked with a smile.
you placed the couple of books on the desk. "afraid so."
"did you enjoy them?"
"enough to wish there were more chapters."
"i'll see if i can find you something similar."
"thanks."
by the time you'd finished you'd lost all sight of fred. you searched the aisles, finding him standing in the near-end section reading the pages of a colourful childrens book.
"finished bonding with the books?"
he looked up, snapping the book shut as he grinned. "are you? blimey. could you 'ave been any longer?" he said as he placed the book back in it's respective home.
you scoffed, though it came out more like a laugh. "come on. we have to get a move on if we want to be back by dawn."
"might wanna tell yourself that."
you turned your back to him, rolling your eyes regardless of the smile playing at your lips.
"hurry up."
"you love this."
"i tolerate it."
the walk through the village was easy. familiar in a way that it made memories auto play when passing by specific spots. almost making you forget that you were technically running errands.
the air shifted as you passed from the quiet lane of the library up into the louder hum of the ottery st catchpoles small high street. where shop windows reflected the light of the setting sun, and the smell of sugar drifted faintly in passing winds.
you entered the bakery and the smell of sweet pastries hit your senses almost immediately as you headed over to the glass counter.
"right," he said suddenly. "we're stopping here."
"we are not 'stopping here', i have a list."
"you have a list," he agreed. "but i have instinct."
you snorted. "which is usually wrong."
"i'm just saying," fred continued. "we should at least get one of everything."
"no."
"a selection."
"no."
"a small selection?"
you shot him a look over your shoulder. "fred."
he sighed dramatically, running a hand through his wind-knotted hair. "you're cruel, you know that?"
"i've been told."
"you deny me joy."
"i deny you unnecessary sugar."
you asked the man behind the counter for the listed items, while fred leaned closer towards the glass case. eyes scanning the pastries liked they'd personally done him wrong.
"you can't seriously expect me to stand in a bakery and not make any recommendations."
"i fully expect that," you said, which earnt you a long and offended pause.
then quietly, he spoke. like he was doing you a favour.
"you should get the jam tarts."
"i'm following a list."
"well your list is wrong."
"it's molly's list."
fred hesitated at that. "...your list is sacred, then." he amended.
the baker came back from behind the supply door, barely managing to place the first bag down on the countertop before you slid it over to fred.
"here."
he looked down at it, then back at you.
"excuse me?"
"you volunteered to come. now you carry."
"i was forced to come."
"and yet, here you are."
"i was wrongfully enlisted."
"by your mother."
"exactly."
"sounds like a 'you' problem." you smiled sweetly.
he looked at you before letting out a theatrical sigh. "i hope you appreciate the sacrifices i make."
"i appreciate you carrying all the shopping."
"i expected more gratitude for my doings."
"i'll think about it,"
"you wound me."
"i'll think about that, too."
the travel back to the burrow was uneventful.
well, uneventful compared to most peoples standards.
fred complained about carrying the shopping for the better half of the journey, despite every offer you made to take some of the bags. and somewhere along the way, he'd still managed to squeeze in a handful of dreadful jokes. ones of which he seemed far too proud of.
the sun had nearly set as the two of you finally stepped foot back into the burrow. the voices of george and ron arguing could be heard from the floors above. something george must've instigated again by the sounds of it.
fred dropped the paper bags onto the kitchen counter just as molly swept into the room.
"there you are!" she beamed, dusting her hands on her apron. "how did you get on? did you manage to find everything?"
"we survived." fred announced before you had a chance to answer.
"everything on the list." you assured after with a pursed smile, pulling the folded paper from your pocket and placing in on the table.
molly laughed softly, reaching over to the first bag. "and the library?"
"books returned."
"and a new one borrowed." fred added, hanging his (your) coat by the door.
mollys smiled widened. "i had a feeling."
she began unpacking the groceries, humming as she checked each item off her list, setting them aside after she did. "thank you, love."
"it was no trouble."
"it was." fred muttered. "i've been worked half to death."
molly didn't even look up. "you're still standing."
"barely "
"then you'll live."
within the hour, the smell over dinner had filled every space in the burrow.
as always, the table was crowded. conversations overlapping from one end to the other, making it nearly impossible to follow along a single train of thought. arthur recounted some interaction he had with a muggle during the afternoon, ginny and ron argued over the last roast potato, and fred and george partook every chance they could to instigate by chiming in to conversations.
you mostly listened, just enjoying your meal with a few laughs here and there as molly insisted everyone took seconds before they even finishes their firsts.
it was loud.
chaotic.
and something you'd grown to recognise as comforting.
as dinner worn on, the burrow began too settle into it's usual routine as time passed. plates were cleared, chairs scraped across the wooden floor as people dispersed. the chatter that had once filled the space now dwindled into quiet chatter and yawns.
arthur went into the shed after he said he'd "just be five minutes" which you all knew meant at least an hour. ginny disappeared into her room, ron flopped on the sofa and george vanished in the search of entertainment.
with everyone occupied with their own business, you went about yours. tucking the newly borrowed book under your arm and slipping out the door.
nobody questioned where you were going.
they never did.
you let your feet carry you down the familar path that wound through the field. it wasn't too far from the burrow, close enough that the golden glow of the kitchen lights were still visible, yet far enough away that the only in ear sounds were the crickets and the grass rustling from soft winds.
the old oak tree stood exactly where it always had. it's branches streched overhead like a canopy welcoming you in beneath it. you settled under it, leaning against the rough bark. the warm lighting of the setting sun peeked through the leaves, or lack thereof, making it all the more cozier.
for a while, that was all it was.
the peacefulness of being surrounded nature.
the turning of pages.
you'd become so engrossed in the book that the sound footsteps approaching hadn't registered until they came to a stop besides you.
"i've been look for ya' everywhere you know?" fred's voice broke the silence.
"i somehow doubt that." you replied without looking up.
"fair point. this was the only place i looked."
he just stood there, but you said nothing of it. not expecting anymore of him. "mum thought you might've snuck off."
"did she now?"
"not really."
you finally looked up, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.
"so, you just fancied interrupting me?"
"i prefer the term, 'keeping you company'." he shrugged. settling himself down besides you without so much as an invitation.
it was nice and quiet while it lasted.
fred leaned back against his hands, stretching his legs out in the grass like he'd planned to stay.
you returned to your book, though your attention wasn't nearly quite as fixated on the words themself as much as it was before.
"is it any good?" he eventually asked.
"i don't know yet."
"that sounds like it's already put you to sleep and you just being polite about it."
"it sounds like i've just only read the first three pages."
"same thing."
you huffed a quiet laugh and turned another page.
fred tilted his head slightly. "you always come out here?"
you finally looked up at him and there was a brief yet unbothered pause.
he had already been watching you, like he knew what you'd say anyway. he gave a small, easy nod. not needing an actual answer.
"yeah," he said simply, like the silence you kept was what he expected all along.
the silence settled.
the book rested loosely in your hands, unread. while his gaze shifted to the horizon, but not quite fixated on anything particular.
minutes passed like that.
both of you, just there.
eventually, fred spoke, quiter than before. "i didn't actually come out to ask you that."
"no?" as if it hadn't been obvious to you anyway.
"i just," he paused, knowing what he'd say wouldn't normally be something he'd bother to say aloud. "knew you'd be here."
it landed differently.
not new information.
just finally said.
you didn't answer, because you didn't have to. instead, you just silently stopped pretending that you didn't notice when he started showing up.
or how often.
or how quickly it'd become normal for him to just always be around.
"you've read that sentence four times."
you sighed. "i have not."
"you have."
you closed the book over your finger, marking where you were up to. "happy?"
"immensely."
you rolled your eyes, but the lingering smile on your face betrayed any real irritation.
the conversation faded as easily as it started. neither of you seemed bothered by it.
you opened your book again, more out of a habit than actual intention to read. fred shifted besides you, extending his legs across the grass.
the pages turned. once. twice. then stopped.
"you're still not reading."
"i'm trying."
"mhm."
you glanced sideways at him. "and who's fault is that?"
fred looked thoughtfully towards the sky. "i'd say yours."
"mine?"
"you keep getting distracted."
"i keep getting distracted?"
"well, you're certainly not looking at the book anymore." he shrugged.
"i'd say that's entirely your doing."
"my own?"
"i was reading perfectly fine before you decided to come and join uninvited."
"were you?"
"yes."
he hummed, purely unconvinced. or maybe just trying to bait you into proving him right.
"give us a look."
"no."
"oh, come on." he reaches but you lean away, avoiding the prying hand.
"you're insufferable."
"you've not read a single word since i've got here."
"maybe you should consider the fact that you're the problem here."
"i'll take that as a compliment."
"you would."
"i absolutely would."
you shook your head, smiling despite yourself.
"there it is."
you frowned almost instantly. "what?"
"that smile."
"what smile?"
"the one you get when you're trying very hard not to smile."
"i wasn't."
"you are."
"i'm not."
"you've just made it worse."
you let out a laugh, ducking your head.
"i hate that you notice these things."
he grinned. "i've had years of practice."
the words rested between you. he'd said them so casually. like it was something obvious. maybe it was. you'd known fred long enough to pick apart the things he'd say as jokes, but this one you couldn't seem to manage. then you let out a small laugh.
"that sounds awfully like an excuse."
fred didn't answer straight away.
but the grin stayed on his face. easy as ever, yet he didn't add anything to it this time. just looked at you, like he was waiting for the next line that never found it's way. because this time, stuck behind his teeth, was nothing. no joke to add on.
your eyes finally flickered to him properly.
and that was all it took.
his mouth met yours before either of you thought to make it anything else. it wasn't slow or careful like it would've have been if he stopped to think about it before acting, it just happened. like he'd decided this was better than whatever else he was going to say.
his hand found the grass besides you to steady himself, though there was nothing unsure about the way he kissed you.
For the first time ever, Fred Weasley finds himself jealous over the only person in the world he needn’t worry a bit about.
Pairing: Fred Weasley x f!reader
Word count: 8k
Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, oral + fingering (f!receiving, (lots of) dirty talk, name calling, praise/degradation, dom/sub dynamic, some nipple play, touch of a breeding kink, possessiveness/jealousy, some toxic themes, established relationship, swearing, drinking, arguing, angst, fluff, sorry if miss any!
first hp fic in a very long time! what better to post than this mess (jealous, possessive, sexy mess). basically pwp—let me know what you think! (Barely edited at all lmao my apologies)
You sat quietly at George’s desk, eyes focused on a piece of parchment as you both tried to break down the recipe George had scribbled down. There was a hiccup, a hitch in the plan of brewing a batch of Euphoria Elixir for the joke shop, and it was pushing back your plans to place them on the shelves this week. After a few hours of quiet deliberation on his lonesome, George decided to seek your help in hopes of speeding up the process.
So, the two of you put your heads together and re-read the ingredient list a million times, wondering how the hell it turned out murky green instead of sunshine-y yellow. The cauldron sat smoldering across the room, a rain cloud above it as the bubbly mixture spilled over the sides. Upon first glance, you had stated the absolute obvious.
“Isn’t that supposed to be a rainbow?” You raised an eyebrow, looking at your brother-in-law as he collapsed in his chair.
“Yes, you git.” George rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. You shot him a sharp look, warning him to be nice if he wanted your help. You knew George didn’t mean any of the insults—he was simply frustrated and maybe even a little embarrassed that he could not figure it out by himself. “Sorry, Y/N.” He conceded, realizing he came on a bit too strong.
“S’alright.” You assured him, stepping towards the desk where he sat. “Where’s the ingredient list? We’ll start there.” You offered, knowing you would help no matter how poor of a mood he was in. You loved George almost as much as you loved Fred, if you had to compare. Even if it was in a different way, you had a hard time refusing him when he used the same charm tactics as his twin brother.
After spending so many years in a relationship with Fred, it would be obscure for you not to have a bond with the closest person to him. Over the years, he’d surpassed a friend and had grown into your own brother. You were certain that no matter where life took you and Fred, George would always hold a special place in your heart. When the two opened their shop in Diagon Alley, you volunteered most of your free time to help them in any way you could, and whether it was tweaking new products or doing some of the dirty work, you never really minded.
That evening in specific, Fred was off on some ‘official business’, which really just meant meeting with a potential product buyer at The Leaky Cauldron. Last month, George took the burden of doing so, and they decided it was only fair for him to do it this time. Unfortunately for you, as much as you loved supporting them, it did interfere with your evening plans with him. So, sulking and trying your best to swallow it down, you distracted yourself with stocking shelves downstairs to prepare for another busy day ahead.
You were actually near grateful when George emerged from the office, calling out to you in desperation. It gave you a break from the monotonous back and forth, and someone to talk to. If it could not be Fred, you decided George was the next best.
“So, what’d’ya think it could be?” George asked, peeking over the cauldron that was still spitting back at him. He dodged out of the way, trying his best not to get any of the splashback on his new jumper.
“Well, from what you’ve told me, seems like you put all the right stuff in.” You deducted, pursing your lips slightly as you read over the list for what seemed like the millionth time. “Sad as it sounds, I doubt we can save it now, even if we figure out what happened.” You said, recalling your potions knowledge that Snape had relayed over the years.
“Right, but I’d like to know what’s wrong before I try again.” He explained, taking a moment to look over your sad expression. His eyebrows furrowed, his head cocking to the side as he tried to figure out where it was coming from. “What’s got your knickers in a twist?” Your eyes flickered upwards to meet his, your cheeks tinged red from the heat of the room. Your lips dipped into a frown as you shrugged your shoulders, brushing him off so you did not need to explain yourself. “I know you better than that. Come on, now.” He urged, placing his palms flat against the desk as he leaned towards you, a challenging look in his eye.
You narrowed your brows, keeping a stony expression as you met his gaze. “What’s it to you, Weasley?” You shot back, unsure of where your defensive nature was coming from. Perhaps you weren’t willing to discuss your relationship problems with your boyfriend’s twin brother, or maybe it was because you felt foolish for being upset at all.
“Reckon we’re past that, hmm? Your problems are our problems, and all.” He responded, also unsure of why you were being so reserved with your thoughts. Usually, you were an open book, especially with the two of them.
“My problems aren’t your problems, Georgie.” You shook your head, shutting down the ridiculous notion. “Let’s get back to the real problem, yeah?”
“No, I don’t think so.” George disagreed, his concern now over something completely different. “Is it about Fred?” At that, the tips of your ears began to burn and you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “Ah, I see.” A devious smile crossed his lips.
“It’s not a big deal.” You covered your tracks, tapping the ink-less quill against the worn parchment.
“I have a hard time believing you, considering you just lied to me.”
“Lied is a strong word,” you rolled your eyes, quickly realizing that there would be no escaping the conversation. “I didn’t lie about anything.”
“What’s he done?”
“Nothing!” You exclaimed, a dry laugh leaving your lips. “It’s just… I’m just being dramatic.” And it’s true, you were being dramatic. Well, maybe not fully, but that’s what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I just miss him, I suppose. I know you both have been busy, but I think maybe I underestimated how busy you would actually be.” You continued, knowing it was wrong to confide in his twin brother about your relationship issues. Still, it felt good to get it off your chest, to voice the concern and have someone shoot you down, just so you knew you were being irrational. “This is the third night in a row we’ve canceled our plans. I’ll get over it. It’s no big deal.”
“That’s a big deal.” He hummed, sympathizing with you to make you feel better. “Bloody inconsiderate, if you ask me.” But you weren’t asking him, and somehow his justification of your feelings only made you feel worse. “What? Not allowed to speak my mind?”
“No—“ you let out a defeated sigh, slumping down in your seat. “I know that, but I was hoping you would tell me I’ve gone mad, instead.”
“Blimey, Y/N, you’re allowed to be upset. We're busy, yeah, but you’re still his girlfriend.” George said, jumping slightly when the rain cloud above the cauldron let out a crack of thunder. “If you’d rather, we can forget the elixir and grab dinner instead. I’m not Fred, but I’m pretty damn close.” He gave you a cheeky smile, earning an honest laugh from you.
“S’alright, Georgie. Thank you, though.” You appreciated his kindness, but you were sure it would only make your predicament even worse, considering Fred’s recently acquired short-fuse when it came to you and George spending so much time together. It was odd for him to be so protective, so jealous of the one person in the world he needn’t worry about, but it seemed as though the new trait was permanent. Perhaps it came from the fact he was also missing you due to your busy schedules, and how it sometimes seemed you and George were most often left at the shop alone.
“You know, I have noticed that lately.” George continued, leaning against the desk as he reminisced over the last few weeks. “Always seems to be us stuck here together.”
“Mhm.” You mumbled, slowly realizing that you weren’t as insane as you previously thought if he was noticing all of the same things. “Let’s just figure this out so I can get home.”
So you did. A grueling hour spent recounting George’s every step in brewing the elixir left the two of you puzzled and even more frustrated. By that point in the night, you were hunched over the long list of his steps you had jotted down so you could (hopefully) discover what he missed.
“I dunno, Georgie.” You sighed. “Seems like you did everything—“ you cut yourself off, leaning closer to the page on the desk as you caught something you hadn’t seen before.
“What?” He asked, his head snapping towards you. “What is it?”
“You said when you let it simmer, it was turquoise.” You said, looking up at him.
“Yeah, so?” He replied, confused why it was such a big deal.
“It’s meant to be blue.” You explained, a grin on your face as you relayed the information to him.
“Turquoise… blue… same thing, innit?” He asked, standing and walking over to you.
“Maybe to you.” You giggled, pointing to the piece of paper where he missed the step. “After you add the shrivelfig, you have to stir it until it changes color.” He walked up behind you, placing one hand on your arm as he leaned over your opposite shoulder. He smelled of butterbeer, likely due to the one he’d been nursing the entire time you sat together. You immediately noticed the warmth of his body, how similar it felt to how Fred touched you, but how drastically different it was all the same.
“Blimey, you’re right!” He exclaimed, his voice still soft so he was not yelling in your ear. “What would I do without you?” He gave your arm a gentle squeeze, leaning closer and pressing the side of his face to yours in a makeshift hug. His hand dropped to your back, lingering there as the conversation continued.
“It’s nothing, really.” You smiled, closing your eyes to enjoy the warmth for a moment. “So now you know. You can do it again, but make sure to stir it until it’s blue. By tomorrow, we’ll have it bottled and on the shelves just like we planned.”
“Our number one girl, saving the day yet again.” He sighed in relief. “I better get to it—“
Before his thought could finish, the door to the office swung open, cutting him short. Your eyes turned upwards, landing on a slightly drunken version of the boyfriend who’d abandoned your evening plans. The gloss of his eyes and the goofy smile on his lips led you to believe so, and the redness on the apples of his cheeks only solidified it. Only his cheeky grin didn’t last too long when he processed the scene in front of him, how close the two of you were, how heavy George’s hand seemed on your back and how rosy your own cheeks were.
Quickly, his jaw tightened, his gaze narrowing as he tried to decipher the whole situation. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his arms raised to cross over his chest. Immediately, you knew what you’d be in for; a long, tiresome argument that changed absolutely nothing. Instead of fighting the silent accusations, defending yourself for no real reason at all, you watched him with the same intensity while you awaited a snide comment.
“So what’s all this, then?” Fred asked, his face clearly conveying all of his emotions.
“Helping Georgie make the elixir while you were off getting sloshed at The Leaky Cauldron.” You muttered, noticing George straighten himself up in hopes of avoiding any further damage.
“I was not getting sloshed, I was doing business.” He corrected, defensive over the fact. “S’pose you were hoping I’d take a little longer, yeah? Give you some more time to cozy up with my brother?”
“Blimey, Fred. If you took any longer, I’d imagine you’d have to move in with the lad.” George took your side on the matter. “At least she wouldn’t have to worry about you missing dinner again.” At that, Fred’s eyes cut to you, immediately understanding where the underlying tension was coming from.
“Is that right?” Fred’s voice was no louder than a whisper, all of the pieces clicking together in an instant. “I don’t suppose the two of you had dinner? Let him fill in for me while I was gone?”
“No, we did not.” You snipped, standing as you gathered the ingredients for George’s second attempt at the brew.
“Yeah, right. What else did he fill in for, sweetheart? Anything you think I should know?” At that, your eyes widened and your face turned red. Your entire body felt like it was engulfed in flames, appalled that he would even think such a thing.
“Piss off, Fred.” You muttered, stepping out from behind the desk as tears stung your eyes. George shot you a sympathetic look as you pushed past his brother and out into the stairwell. You trodded down to the main level, swiping fallen tears away from your cheeks as you rushed out the front entrance of the building.
The cool air of the night was nice, especially after spending so long cramped up in the tiny office space, but it was not as freeing as you might have hoped once you heard footsteps following behind you. Without acknowledging him, you pulled your keys from your pocket, hoping that maybe he forgot his own set and you wouldn’t have to deal with his drunken arguments tonight if you got inside before him.
Of course, you knew that was childish and cruel, because despite being upset with him, loving him was the only thing you knew how to do. You unlocked the front door, holding it open with your boot-clad foot as he stumbled his way behind you. As soon as he passed through the doorway, you continued on your journey to ignore him and tossed your keys on the counter.
“Hey,” Fred reached out, his warm hand landing on your arm, stopping you from running any further from him.
“What?” You snapped, immediately regretting the harshness of your tone. He recoiled at the sound, shocked that you spoke to him in such a way. Usually the two of you saw eye to eye on everything, and in your long standing relationship arguing had never been your thing. Until you left school, you were certain the two of you had never been angry at each other, ever.
“What the bloody hell was that about? I leave for a few hours, and the two of you get on like that? Does that happen every time I step out?” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes again, wondering why this became such a problem in the few short months you’d been graduated.
“Merlin, Fred. You’re acting like you caught us in a broom closet.” You tried again to make your way to the bedroom, unwilling to argue a point he knew was blasphemous anyhow. “We were working, not fucking.”
“Yeah, but I bet you would’ve let him, right?” He grabbed your hand, spinning you back around to face him. He pulled you into him, his athletic build never leaving him even after he stopped playing quidditch. “Bitching and moaning cause I couldn’t be home to take you to dinner… if you were so upset, why didn’t you come to me, princess? Tell me what was wrong?” You could smell fire whiskey on his breath, feeling his chest heaving with anger against your own. As angry as you were, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of arousal run through you. The slight sneer on his face, the fire in his eyes, and the protective hold he had on you was sending your head spinning with thoughts much less pertinent to the topic at hand.
“Maybe I would have if you spared me the time of day.” You argued, finding yourself short of breath as you realized just how much he towered over you. “But, as it seems, you’ve been too damn busy to spare me a second glance.”
“Christ, when did you get so needy?” His rebuttal came easy, like he’d been waiting to have this fight for weeks. “Weren’t satisfied at home, so you thought my brother could do it for you?”
“Are you daft?” You hissed, feeling his fingers tighten on your hips. You hated that the feeling made you forget about your troubles, urging you to push the argument to the side and settle it in a better, more pleasurable way. “If that’s what I wanted, you think I’d be up here arguing with you?”
“That depends, sweetheart. Were you planning on getting caught?” He raised an eyebrow, the thud of his heart against his chest letting you know just how worked up he was. There was no way he truly believed you would do that to him, especially after all you had been through together. You wondered if maybe the lack of time spent with each other was getting to him, souring his thoughts because he missed you just as much as you missed him. “We may be identical, Princess, but he could never give you what I can.”
You hated to admit it, but for some strange reason, jealousy looked really good on him.
“What, a headache and a poor mood?” You decided to play his game if he wasn’t willing to listen to reason. If he wanted to fight, you could do it too. “I’m sure he could manage. In fact, he could probably do a hell of a lot more.” That seemed to strike a nerve in him, pushing him over the edge in an instant and changing the entire mood hanging heavy in the room. He no longer wanted to talk, but rather prove a point.
He took a step backwards, never easing his hold as he pushed you towards the kitchen table. He didn’t stop until your ass hit the edge, a mischievous look in his eye replacing the earlier annoyance. He had you locked in place, no intent to back down as he stared down at you over the bridge of his nose. Then, a small smirk turned the corner of his lips, leading you to believe he was also thinking of a much more simple way to solve your problems.
“Maybe you just need a reminder of who you belong to, yeah?” He asked, his voice quieter than it was before. You felt your mouth run dry, your eyes never leaving his as a dull ache between your legs began to pester you.
That would make you feel better, but he had pissed you off enough that you wanted to refuse him the satisfaction.
“Maybe we should get Georgie up here. According to you, he’d be the one to set me straight.” There was a slight venom in your tone letting him know you wouldn’t be letting anything go so easily. A low chuckle shook his shoulders, his eyes gleaming with a sinister look you weren’t sure you’d ever seen from him before that night. He shook his head ever so slightly, playing into you as he reached one arm behind you.
Your heart raced as you awaited a response, wondering if maybe you pushed him too far and crossed a boundary you could not double back on. You didn’t have to wonder long, because without a second thought, he cleared all of the items littering the table with one swift move of his arm. Papers scattered everywhere, floating through the air and landing all over the floor. Broken products and half finished merchandise for the shop tumbled off the edge, falling less than gracefully onto the tile below. Without ever breaking eye contact, he raised an eyebrow, daring you to say it again.
“You think he can fuck you better than I can?” He asked, giving you the opportunity to change your mind.
“Right now? Yeah.” You spat, wondering if he’d ever drop the act and get on with his day. “Seems like all you want to do is get on my nerves.”
“Yeah?” He challenged, his face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your skin. The tip of his nose grazed your own, his normally warm and comforting irises engulfed by his lust-blown pupils. Or perhaps it was anger that gave him the new look—you weren’t quite sure. “You’d rather go home with him at night? Wake up next to him every morning? Is that really what you want, princess?” He taunted, knowing very well that your heart was his, even if he found himself caught up in a few moments of doubt.
Still neglecting to give him any gratification, you nodded your head despite the sickening feeling that washed over you at the thought. As if he called your bluff before you ever said it aloud, he laughed at the certainty in your action, which only seemed to anger you further.
“If that’s the case, seems like I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight.” He responded, brushing the comment off as if it were nothing. If there was one thing Fred couldn’t ever turn down, it was a challenge, and since coming upstairs with you, it was only further proven to him that’s all this was. “Maybe I’ve gotten too comfortable, sweetheart. After so long, you think you’d know that you’re mine, huh?” Before he continued his tyrant, he used his hands on your hips to lift you onto the table with ease. The ache between your legs had grown stronger, more intense and impossible to ignore. You could feel the wetness soaking through your panties, and the thought of his strong arms lifting you so carelessly only made you spiral further. “Maybe I expect too much of you.” He theorized, recognizing the gleam in your eyes because he’d seen it a thousand times before.
He let his hands trail under the hem of your jumper, settling on the button of your jeans as he undid it with ease. You never let your eyes trail from his face, realizing that no matter how upset you were, it could never take away from how much you loved him. He was beautiful, his fiery red hair and the freckles splattered across his cheeks and nose creating a perfect picture. The softness of his complexion and the gentleness hidden deep in his expression assured you that whatever the two of you were doing was nothing more than an act. He knew you were his just as well as you did, but he knew the only way to settle the (admittedly, misguided) fear was to hear you say it aloud.
You helped him pull the fabric from your legs, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lifted your hips from the table. He discarded the clothing on the floor, paying no mind to it as he returned his hands to your bare legs. His eyes searched your face, carefully looking for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he was met with a pleading expression that only seemed to fuel his too large ego even further.
“No matter,” he disregarded his earlier rant, his eyes growing heavy as his hand fell between your legs. His fingertips grazed the thin fabric separating him from your core, a shiver running down his spine as he noticed the arousal that had soaked straight through. “I don’t mind having to show you. Least I’ll get to have my fun too, yeah?” He applied slight pressure to your aching clit, watching to see your reaction. Your eyebrows knitted together, your lips parting slightly as your hips moved forward into his hand, your body betraying your mind and begging him for something more.
At that, a grin encased his face, happy to see that he hadn’t lost his touch, even if your lives were vastly different and ever-changing by the day. He knew exactly how to make you feel good, and he took pride in it.
“See, Princess? She’ll always tell me the truth.” He taunted, his voice quiet as his eyes trailed down to his hand. You swallowed hard, knowing he had you in a stalemate. “Tell me again, who do you think knows how to make you feel good? Who does it best?” He was on a power trip, unwilling to slow down until he heard you admit it. Still, you stood your ground, pressing your lips tightly together so not a single sound could pass through. His grin faded, slowly sinking into a scowl as your disobedience remained clear.
He removed his finger from you, tracing the hem of your panties as he hooked his finger through the side of the fabric resting on your hip. He awaited an answer, giving you the opportunity to change your mind. When you kept your stoicism, he gave one, hard tug on the lacy fabric until it snapped in two. He used his other hand to do it to the opposite side, giving himself easy access to you without hearing a complaint on your end.
“So you don’t care who’s between your legs?” He continued, unrelenting as you stared him down. “Doesn’t matter who, as long as there’s a cock in you? As long as someone’s taking care of your pretty pussy?” Your cheeks flushed, your chest burning as the filthy words washed over you. “Doesn’t matter, sweetheart. When I’m done with you, I’ll be the only person you can think of. Surely then you won’t be able to forget who you belong to.”
His hand connected with your bare cunt, his fingers trailing through your arousal and settling over your clit as he began to trace slow circles into the sensitive area. Your legs trembled at the contact, finally feeling some relief from the nagging sensation that had been taking over.
“Fuck. Fred.” You whispered, giving yourself away immediately. He let out a low hum, pleased with the sound and knowing he was the reason for it. He had you where he wanted you, and now he just had to keep up the pace. You could feel his hardening length against your leg, distracting you completely from the pent up anger and frustration.
“That’s it.” He encouraged, his middle finger sinking inside of you as he let his thumb take over on your clit. “That’s my girl.” He made sure to accentuate the claim, never once letting you forget it. “All you needed was a little help remembering.” Slowly, he pumped his finger into you, keeping time with his thumb as he began to work you towards a climax. “You want to say it for me? Tell me what I already know?” Instead of responding, you let out a whine, your hips bucking forward into his hand. Although it wasn’t what he was looking for, it was just enough for him to keep going.
He curled his fingers as he pumped them into you, begging for a reaction as your hand wrapped around his bicep for support. You felt the tense of his muscles as he worked at you, only pushing you closer to insanity. You were his, undoubtedly and wholeheartedly, and you would be crazy to ever want anyone else.
“Stubborn little thing tonight.” He remarked, his eyes focused on the point in which his hand met with you, never breaking his stare as he watched his fingers disappear into you. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Need more, Freddie.” You replied, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the pleasure pulsing under your skin. It had been a long time since you felt him this way, and your impatience was quite clear.
“My little whore needs more?” He teased, applying a little more pressure with his thumb. A gasp fell from your lips, sending your upper half leaning forward until your forehead rested against his. “Asking a lot from someone you aren’t being very good for.” He chastised you for your behavior despite being the one that caused the problem in the first place.
“M’sorry, my love. S-so sorry.” You rushed out, his fingers brushing against the sweet spot inside you only he knew how to find.
“That’s not what I want to hear sweetheart, and you know it.” His tone was firm, unrelenting as he continued his torment. You let out a groan of frustration, wishing he’d quicken the pace and give you what you wanted, even though you refused to give in to him.
He leaned forward, closing the gap between your mouths as he grew tired of waiting for the words he wanted to hear. He tasted like the whiskey that had been fuelling his poor mood, sweet and bitter all at once as his tongue grazed your bottom lip. You hated how easy it was for him to turn you into a mess, hated how easy it was for him to make you forget you were angry at all. You pulled him closer to you, holding his arm tightly so he would not pull away. You were stubborn, but despite that, you were showing him everything he wanted to see through your actions alone.
You broke from the kiss as a particularly intense wave of euphoria pulled your stomach. Your forehead continued to rest on his, holding you upright as he continued to give you just enough to keep you satisfied.
“Say it, princess.” His voice was low, raspy and laced with desire as he watched you turn into a mess below him. “Tell me you’re all mine. Tell me I’m the only one who can make you feel like this.” Instead, you connected your mouths again, letting a desperate moan out at the same time. He drank in the sound, his cock throbbing as his hips jutted forward into nothing. He was almost more desperate than you were, which only allowed for you to take him less seriously.
“G-gonna have to try harder than that.” You found a peculiar pleasure in leaving him on edge, giving him a taste of his own medicine as he continued to torture both of you at once. “Show me why I should say it, Freddie. Seems like you’re all t-talk.” You stuttered, tripping over your words as you tried to keep your composure.
He withdrew his hand from you, making you cry out in frustration from the loss of pleasure. Your eyes met his, desperation written all over your face as you protested his actions. Silently, he sunk to his knees between your legs, pulling you to the edge of the table by your hips. He didn’t spare a single glance at your face before his tongue connected with your core, the warm wetness of his tongue even more pleasurable than the rough pad of his thumb.
You laid back on the table, your hands sinking downwards and tangling in the soft locks of hair. Although you were denying him of the statement he wanted to hear, you could not deny that your last argument was wholly untrue. Fred was determined to prove a point, and he was doing it well.
You weren’t far off from an orgasm, his tongue making quick work at pushing you to the edge. The sounds falling from your lips were telling of your current state, and as delirium began to set in, your defenses began to break down.
He suctioned his lips around your clit, adding his fingers to the mix and returning to his earlier pace to torture you further. Every nerve in your body was ablaze with desire, need seeping from every pore as you realized just how badly you needed the release. Sick of the game, you finally broke in fear he would leave you hanging yet again.
“Oh, god.” You gasped, your legs resting over his shoulders in attempt to stop the constant trembling of the lips. “I’m yours, Fred, fuck!” You exclaimed, a sheen layer of sweat forming over your forehead as the knot in your belly began to tighten. “Only you can make me feel this good. Nobody else.” You whined, your fingers tightening on the locks of hair as you began to tug at the strands. You could feel him smiling against you, happy to finally hear you admit the truth.
Pleased with your confessions, he curled his fingers against your g-spot one last time, generously giving you the very thing you’d been pleading for. In a mess, your entire body tensed as the pleasure took hold. The orgasm washed over you, leaving your heart racing against your chest and your head swirling with filthy thoughts for the boy between your legs. A hum of approval let you know he was more than happy with your performance, and he kept his pace until he felt you relax against the table below you.
Once he knew he’d gotten the most out of you, he rose to his feet, towering over you as you laid below him. In the dim moonlight, you could see your orgasm glistening on his chin, only furthering his cockiness as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip so he did not waste a drop of it.
“Always taste so sweet, princess.” He whispered, using one hand to free himself from his pants and his boxers. “And it’s all for me.” He continued, slipping his shirt from his head. He used it to wipe his face clean before tossing it on the floor to join the growing pile of clothes. With shaky hands, you lifted your upper half from the table and pulled your own jumper over your head. “Isn’t that right?” He stepped toward, settling between your legs as his hands ghosted over your bare thighs.
You let out a whimper, his grip landing on your already sore hips as his eyes raked over your entire frame. Your gaze flickered to his cock, hard and aching for relief as he continued to tease you. His fingers tickled your stomach as he trailed his touch upwards, his palm landing flat against your breast as he gave it a gentle squeeze. He let the pad of his thumb brush over your hardened nipple, sending another wave of pleasure through you.
“Answer me, sweetheart.” He wasn’t playing anymore; he wanted to hear the words, and he was done with your obstinacy. He pinched your nipple between his thumb and forefinger,
“Yes,” you huffed, already forgetting the pleasure from your first climax as a whole new wave of need began to take over. “I’m yours, Fred. All yours.” You reiterated your earlier statement, now willing to do whatever he wanted of you to prove the point.
“Tell me how bad you want it.” He shot you a twisted little smile, almost as if he was getting off just from the thought of you begging for him.
“I need it, baby. Need to feel you, please.” You whined, reaching for his arms and pulling him closer. “Want you so bad, Fred. Been waiting all night for it.” You felt the tip of his cock connect with your cunt, his expression faltering as soon as he felt the wetness.
“God, you make it so hard to be upset with you.” He hissed the words through his teeth, using his hand to guide himself through your folds as he sucked in a sharp breath. He settled himself just over your already sensitive clit, pushing his hips forward ever so slightly to apply pressure to the spot. “Sound so pretty when you’re begging to be fucked.”
Slowly, he let his tip run back through your arousal, settling the head just at your entrance. He pushed himself forward, but just barely. You whimpered as you braced yourself for the feeling, only to be let down when he stopped himself from going any further.
“Fred,” you warned, catching his eye so he could see your desperate face. You hoped that if he did, he would stop being such a tease. “Please fuck me.”
“What was that?” He smirked, turning his head slightly so his ear was closer to you. “Didn’t quite catch it.”
“Fred, stop—“ you cut yourself off, letting out a huff of annoyance. You knew chastising him for his actions would only make him less likely to give in, even if it was incredibly hard to hold it back. “I need you to fuck me.” You repeated, clearer and louder in hopes of swaying his decision. “Can’t wait any longer, baby. Please.”
At that, he pushed forward the rest of the way, sending your entire body raising with goosebumps. The stretch as he filled you was exactly what you craved, and as he reached the hilt, his tip brushed against your g-spot so delicately that it almost made you come undone right then and there. Your eyelids grew heavy with satisfaction, focusing on how full you felt with him inside of you, knowing that he for certain would always be the one for you.
“That good enough for you, Princess? This is what you wanted?” He asked, letting himself rest inside you for a moment. He felt your walls flutter around him, pulling him even further and making it harder for him to resist you.
“Mhm,” you hummed, giving him a tired nod of agreement. You could feel him throbbing inside of, desperate for a release just like you had been moments before, but he was still trying to prove his point.
“Nobody else gets to have you like this, sweetheart. You’re mine.” He whispered, now sober from the alcohol but intoxicated by an even stronger, deadlier force; you. “He couldn’t fuck you like this, and you know it.” As he spoke, he withdrew his hips and slammed them forward into you again. The action stole the breath from your lungs, twisting your stomach with pleasure as your nails scratched over his skin.
He began at a pace, slower than normal but the force behind his movements making your head spin. You moaned quietly, lost within the feeling of being so close to him. He never failed to take your breath away, never failed to amaze you with his every move. You were so in love with him it sometimes felt like there was no room within your heart for anyone or anything else.
“Tell me, Y/N.” He ordered, his stare never wavering as he fucked into you. As much as he wanted to succumb to the sensation of you wrapped around him, he found it hard to push the thoughts of your earlier arguments out of his head. “You think he’d fuck you like this? You think he could make you feel this good?”
“No, Freddie.” You gasped, feeling the strength of his thrusts increase, sending the legs of the table wobbling. His fingers tightened on your hips, likely leaving behind angry red marks that would fade into reminders of him for days to come.
“That’s it, Princess.” He panted, his chest heaving as he tried to resist the pull of pleasure. “Don’t you think, not even for a second, that anyone can give you half of what I can.” You both knew this to be fact; nobody in the entire world could ever compare to him. “And why do you think that is?”
“‘C-cause I’m yours,” you managed to stutter out the response, watching him as the statement washed over. He brought his hand to your thigh, your legs wrapped tightly around you as he pulled you back on him with every thrust. His head fell back on his shoulders, the dim light of the room casting a beautiful hue over his already breathtaking features.
“That’s right,” he grunted, slamming his hips forward again. There was a thin layer of sweat sheen on his chest, the toned muscles of his abdomen flexing every time he moved. The exposed columns of his neck made your mouth water, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed back his own groans of pleasure. “Was that why you were mouthing off? You just needed someone to take care of you? Just needed me to fuck you?”
“God, yes.” You moaned, feeling the pressure in your belly begin to reach a peak.
“You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? All over my cock?” He smiled, looking down at you so he could appreciate the view. “Come on now, making a fucking mess of it.”
“Fuck,” you whimpered, his words hitting you hard and causing the tightening knot in your belly to tense even further.
“That’s my pretty girl. Just like that.” He continued to encourage you, studying your expression as pleasure began to twist it.
It didn’t take much more for you to descend into another orgasm, your entire body quivering as you cried out for him, singing his name like a hymn and he was the god in which you prayed to. Your throat was raw, raspy from the constant string of moans passing your lips. You were tired, almost too fucked out to continue on, but he was having none of it. He didn’t slow his pace as you came down from the high, instead speeding up and ensuring that he pulled your entire body down on him as he fucked into you.
“Freddie, please.” You breathed, feeling the threat of overstimulation begin to creep in. He would have had sympathy had he known you couldn’t take it, but he was confident in your ability to keep up with him.
“What’s wrong, Princess? Wanted it so bad and now you can’t handle it?” He asked, his eyes glazed over with lust as he felt himself approaching his own orgasm. You frowned at his words, now on a quest to prove your own point as you tried to ignore the stinging beginning to set in.
“I can t-take it.” You huffed, a shiver running down your spine as he reached upwards and palmed your breast. He gave the supple flesh a gentle squeeze, his eyes closing in bliss as he let himself slip out of the persona he had created.
“Being so good for me—just a bit longer now.” He whispered, his voice far away as his eyes settled over your face once more. “Bloody hell, Y/N.” he groaned, his forehead creasing as his eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
He slipped his hand between your legs, his thumb landing atop your clit. He traced slow circles, knowing you were a bit further behind him and unwilling to climax without giving you at least one more. He could see how tired you were, but it did not deter him from his commitment to pleasing you.
“I love you, Fred.” You whispered, softened entirely by the sweet look in his eyes. All of his previous anger fled, leaving him just as the boy you’d fallen so hopelessly for.
“I love you, sweetheart.” He hummed, his hips stuttering and his stature faltering. “Give me one more, yeah? I know you can do it.” And he was right, your entire body was ablaze with another orgasm much more powerful than the last two.
“Together?” You gasped, reaching up and settling your palm on his cheek.
“Yeah? You want to cum with me?” He encouraged your train of thought. “Want me to fill that pretty cunt? Really show you who you belong to?”
“Fuck yes, please.” You cried, your fingertips tangling in the locks of hair hanging over his ears. Your walls clenched around him, drawing him in and effortlessly finishing what you had started.
You felt his hips stall, a low growl leaving his lips as he pulled you down on him one last time. He managed to whisper your name as he spilled his release into you, the feeling of him filling you completely sending you spiraling on your own accord. You let out a defeated sigh, the tail end of it turning into a whine as your body went rigid. Your nails scratched at the skin of his arm, your hand on him the only thing keeping you tied to earth instead of floating up and through the clouds.
The both of you rode the high together, euphoria infiltrating every nerve in both of your bodies as he leaned down towards you. Ever so gently, he laid his head on your chest, which was still heaving as you tried to catch up from the lack of oxygen. He placed a plethora of small kisses against the warm skin, his eyes fluttering closed as he appreciated the comfort that came with your company.
Silence hung heavy between you for a few moments, neither of you sure where to go from there. You were still strung out on bliss, barely remembering what got the two of you in the position until he spoke again.
“M’sorry, sweetheart.” His voice barely broke through the room, so timid and shy that you almost missed it completely. “I know you’d never do that. Just got in my head, I s’pose.”
“I… I get it.” You sighed, twisting a lock of his hair. “If I walked in on that, after us being so.. you know. I’d likely feel it too.” You confessed. “I was upset that we had to cancel dinner. I am upset, but not at you.” You tried your best to explain yourself despite exhaustion eating away at your mind. “I’m just upset because I miss you. You’re so busy now, and I’m happy for you, really, but I miss you too.”
“You think I was bloody happy about it?” Fred chuckled, the tip of his fingers tracing shapes into your skin. “I’d much rather be here, with you.” At that, you relaxed completely, understanding that you had gotten too far into your own head. “It’s my favorite place to be. Always has been.”
“Mine too, Fred.” You hummed, smiling softly at the thought.
“I reckon I was a bit jealous, ‘specially at the thought of you and George spending so much time with each other. Would rather it be me, you know, sitting at the shop and laughing with you all night… taking you out for dinner… loving you.” Another gentle kiss was placed to your chest, just before he looked up to meet your eyes. The soft, warm, familiar sight made you feel at ease. He was back to being your Fred, the one you missed all along.
“Darling, you have nothing to be jealous about.” You promised, smiling as he placed a quick peck on your lips. “Though, if it means we get to have brilliant sex like that, by all means do what you have to do.” You explained. “Bloody brilliant, at that.” Without any further words, the two of you descended into a fit of laughter and the clouds that previously hung above your head seemingly cleared in an instant, easily proving to him there was really never a need to worry at all.
it was late, and the burrow collapsed into a peaceful silence, the only sounds were ron's snores from the other room and the occasional whistle of the wind.
you couldn't sleep. you sighed, twisting and turning in the mattress trying to will yourself to a slumber but it was useless.
you sat up, brushing your strands away from your face and slowly standing up, careful to not wake ginny with your movement.
you carefully twisted the doorknob, cringing as it groaned with the movement once you pushed it open.
you stepped out, shutting it close more cautiously before walking down the stairs as quiet as you could.
you made your way to the kitchen, brain focused on getting some peace and quiet after bickering with fred all day. but of course, the universe was twisted and craned in some way in which you could never get what you wanted.
fred was already there, eating what looked like was the last slice of pie.
you stopped by the doorway, groaning quietly yet still in a dramatic fashion under your breath
he looked up once he noticed your presence, the corners of his lips twitching up into a smirk and without missing a beat,
"wow, you look even more annoying under the moonlight"
you rolled your eyes "wow, you sound even more insufferable when everyone else is asleep"
he huffed, tho there was a grin etched onto his face, like your irritation was his oxygen
"atleast i don't argue with portraits"
you glared at him through your peripheral
"atleast i didn't lose a fight with a jinxed cauldron"
you shot back, before turning around and "accidentally" pressing the heated up ceramic of your tea cup to his forearm
he jerked back, a hiss slithering from behind his teeth "bloody-!"
you took a sip of your tea to hide your grin "oops."
he stared at you for a beat, eyes wide with disbelief "you did that on purpose"
you took another slow sip, eyes locked on his "you're lucky i didn't aim for your face"
fred rubbed his arm, still grinning which got on your nerves more.
"you're the only person who makes me consider changing my name and fleeing the country"
you raised an eyebrow "you'd need a better personality for that"
the kettle whistled behind you, the shrill sound piercing the quiet.
then, footsteps creaked upstairs and you both froze. you backed off first when you were sure the tapping of feet stopped, spinning around and kicking off on your heel, feeling his stare trail behind you as you faded upstairs
the cool water pelted on your skin, the quick paced rush of the water falling from the showerhead almost feeling like a harsh storm
you liked it that way, it drowned out the memory of that sly smirk, the one where it knows exactly where it hurts and keeps pressing.
you hummed the tune of an old muggle song your mother always listened to, can't help falling in love by elvis presley.
the soft sound of your voice echoed in the ceramic tiles of the bathroom, echoing off of the porcelain
you reached for your shampoo, lightly squeezing the goo onto your palm.
it smelled of coconuts and vanilla, the silken liquid shimmering under the soft light.
you massaged it into your scalp, letting it sit for a while before rinsing it out. but instead of getting the foamy bubbled up slurry sliding down your strands like you expected,
you got a bright blue liquid watered down by the shower creeping its way down your shoulders.
you shrieked, turning off the tap and wrapping a towel around your frame.
you peeked into the mirror, and your once y/h/c locks were an angry loud blue.
"FREDERICK GIDEON WEASLEY!!!" you screeched, your voice nearly loud enough to awake the ghoul in the attic
in the span of 30 seconds, george skidded infront of the door, dragging a grumbling fred along.
george rapped on the door, and you yanked it open, practically fuming from your ears.
george paused when he saw your hair, his fist still held up in the air whilst his twin cackled behind him
"this was not my doing, it was him, it was purely him!" george frantically said, stepping out of the way as to not get pulled into your fury
"you. absolute. arse!" you exclaimed, jabbing your finger into fred's chest after every word to accentuate the venom in your tone
fred grinned down at you, looking completely unapologetic.
"bite suits you," he said with feigned sincerity "really brings out the rage in your eyes."
your jaw went slightly ajar, towel clutched tightly around your dripping body.
"you think this is funny?" you exasperated, stepping closer.
his grin widened, like his existence was completely fueled by your irritation and anger.
"hilarious, actually." he snickered, the light from the candle behind you reflecting in his eyes, turning them into molten mischief. there was amusement flickering in them, like he was daring you to lose control.
you scoffed in disbelief, shaking your head.
george, wisely, trotted down the staircase, muttering something about not wanting to die young.
"you know," he tossed out, maddeningly casual. "i would've gone with y/f/c, but i figured you'd might actually like that."
"i don't know what twisted satisfaction you get from ruining everything you touch, fred. my shampoo. my hair. everything."
oh, how badly you wanted to say "me.", but you didn't want to fuel his ego by admitting that.
fred quirked up an eyebrow, like he was thoroughly amused.
"aww, come on. you're acting like i hexed your soul instead of your shampoo."
you stepped forward again, toe to toe, effectively caging him against the stair railing, irritation gathered up on your expression.
"you hex my mornings. my peace. my sanity. you're a disaster, fred weasley. everytime i see your face, i feel my IQ drop." you spat, jabbing your finger into his chest again, harder this time.
he peered down at you, the height difference more evident from the little to nothing space between you two, so close he could count the droplets of water on your collarbones.
he blinked slowly, before grinning once more. the wicked smile that scorched everything soft inside of you.
"and yet, you keep looking."
"i look because I’m trying to confirm that you’re real. that someone like you actually exists. that the universe had the audacity to make you this insufferable."
he opened his mouth, but you cut him off.
"no. shut up. you dont get to speak. if i even hear your voice today ill obliterate your vocal chords and dance on the ashes."
and just then, you heard molly marching up the staircase, george trailing behind her with a small guilty smile.
you both snapped your heads towards the sound, and you stepped back, a smug smirk on your face as you tilted your head menacingly, knowing what was to come.
fred's eyes widened involuntarily as he saw his mother's ginger hair ascending up the stairs.
"what is the fuss george is telling me abou-" molly started, before pausing similarly like george earlier once she saw your bright blue strands. she slowly turned her gaze to fred, a stern look on her face.
"mum, wait-" was all you heard from fred, before running to ginny's room, where you always stay when you're at the burrow, shutting the door with a giggle.
ginny looked up at you from where she sat criss-cross on her bed, her eyebrows furrowing when she saw your hair.
"im guessing fred?" she questioned, her gaze following you as you neared her
"yup, and hes in trouble with molly." you responded to her question, a grin playing on your face.
she snickered, high-fiving you as you sat down on the bed next to her.
you chatted with ginny for a few minutes, before george barged in.
you both looked at him, and he held up a hand while catching his breath
"okay- wait- alright." he said, grinning as he finally caught his breath, he held up a letter like he was the statue of liberty and that was his torch
"what is it?" you asked, standing up and approaching him
"LEE'S COMING TO THE BURROW TOMORROW!!" he screeched out, startling you for a moment before you let out a similar sound when the words loaded into your brain
"merlin help me." ginny groaned dramatically, not fancying you four being in the same room causing chaos.
after molly forced fred to fix your hair, which he did unwillingly so, you were in the living room infront of the fire place sitting on the ground next to ginny and ron.
"and he's just so, so, so irritating. like, NO ONE CARES. he talks far too much. his ego is even bigger than his height and that says alot, why is he built like the bloody eiff-"
you ranted, but stopped mid sentence when ginny was giving you a weird smirk
your eyebrows knitted together and you tilted your head slightly
"what?"
ginny snickered, a knowing glint in her eyes
"you know.. for someone who supposedly hates fred you sure do talk about him alot"
you blinked at her, before a look of pure horror overcame your face as if she just insinuated you fancied a blast-ended skrewt
"im not talking about him, im complaining about him. he's like a migraine if you turned it into a weasley."
ginny raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying herself.
"are you sure? i mean.. you're talking about how tall he is.."
ron snorted into his hot cocoa, which earned a glare from you
"NO! not like that! i compared his height to his ego! thats different." you defended, your voice coming out a bit too sharp.
ginny giggled, shooting you an unconvinced look "sure.."
you shook your head in exasperation
"i mean it! hes insufferable. he walks into a room and the air gets ten degrees more irritating. and don't get me started on that awful, smug, ugly grin. merlin, i see it in my dreams." you shot back, disgust rolling off of your tongue.
ginny bit her lip, trying not to laugh
"you dream about him?"
you froze, your eyes widening slightly
"i meant nightmare! he appears in my nightmares." you said quickly, too quickly.
"someones defensive" george perked up from the couch in a sing-songy voice, and you groaned loudly
"obviously! you lot are acting like im in love with a man who i saw flick a booger in his food when he was eight."
ron leaned in "you sure are passionate about remembering stuff about him.."
"its not passion! its irritation. i can't look at his face without my entire day getting ruined." you responded, snapping your head towards ron
"sounds like passion to me.." george teased
you flopped onto your back on the rug, muttering your annoyances under your breath
"i hate all of you."
george tossed a chocolate frog at you "you love us. you just hate fred."
you caught the chocolate frog mid air, biting into its head with irritation.
"exactly. and i will continue to hate him until the day he stops breathing in my direction."
from the hallway, like summoned by your fury, fred's voice rang out
"oi! i heard that!"
"good. maybe next time ill say it louder." you snapped back, glaring at the direction his voice echoed from.
fred snickered from down the hall, amused just enough for it to grate on your nerves in the worst way possible.
after half an hour, you were taking a nap on the couch while ginny and ron played wizard's chess. george went upstairs around 15 minutes ago to do merlin knows what.
suddenly, ginny jumped on you and you shrieked, your heart stopping for 2 seconds.
"GIN WHAT THE FUCK-!" you choked out, utterly taken aback
"dinnneeeeeerrr tiime" she drawled, as if she hadn't nearly sent you into cardiac arrest
"merlin help me.." you muttered, "five more minutes.."
"fine, but if ron eats all the treacle tart don't whine"
"oi!" ron glared
you just huffed and closed your eyes again, a soft yawn slipping from your lips
"ill be there in a bit.." you murmured drowsily, cuddling closer to the cushions
ginny sighed, knowing there was no way to convince you to get up
"alright, you better be down there in 5 minutes or ill drag you down"
"yeah, yeah, ill be down there.." you mumbled, trying to let yourself relax for a few more minutes
you twisted and turned, but couldn't seem to get comfortable again.
you sighed in exasperation, sitting up and stretching your limbs
with another yawn you forced yourself up with a sleepy grunt, directing yourself to the dining area while rubbing the sleep out of your eyes
"there you are dear, go have a seat" molly's warm smile greeted, prancing around the kitchen to grab dishes and whatnot.
the corners of your lips twitched upwards into a soft smile, letting your eyes scan for an available seat
every seat was taken.
except for one.
next to him.
you froze for a beat. ginny caught your eye from across the table, and she gave you a sheepish smile.
fred glanced up from his roast potatoes, and his expression immediately dropped into a scowl
"brilliant," he muttered, dragging it out as if it physically pained him. "just what i needed to ruin my appetite."
you gritted your teeth, glowering at him as he shifted in his seat, clearly trying to take up more space.
"don't flatter yourself," you snapped, dropping into the seat with a thud. "id eat in the attic with the ghoul if i could."
"no ones stopping you, i encourage it actually." he shot back, glaring as you sat down.
"id rather suffer here than give you gloating rights, fred." you sneered, his name leaving a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.
he scoffed, tearing into his food aggressively like it owed him an apology.
you rolled your eyes, grabbing some mac and cheese and biting into it as if you could pour out your rage with every sink of your teeth into the pasta.
you reached for the salmon, and so did he. your fingers brushed, and you both recoiled like you just brushed hot iron.
"merlin," he muttered "can't even have dinner in peace without you being a pain in the arse."
you jerked your head towards him, swiveling your seething gaze in the direction of his infuriating face.
"you wouldn't know peace if it hexed you in the face." you spat, easing your glance to your plate again.
he stabbed into his carrot with a little too much force, as if he were wishing it was you instead.
"you've got a lot to say for someone who acts like i ruined your life."
you poured gravy over your mashed potatoes slowly, watching the peppery liquid pool inside the makeshift volcano-like dent you made.
"i talk to muffle the sound of your annoying chewing."
he reached for the butter whilst you reached for the salt, causing your elbows to collide.
he huffed in irritation, much like you.
"do you have to sit like that?"
you didn't move, speaking in a tone that mocked his
"do you have to exist like that?"
he turned to you, eyes narrowed. you turned to him, jaw clenched.
you stared at eachother with pure unfiltered hate in your iris, tucked behind the row of lashes.
not one of you blinked, eyes never wavering once. no one spoke nor moved. just pouring all the hatred in your veins with eyecontact.
ginny noticed first, pausing mid-bite, fork hovering in the air.
"are they.. are they doing that thing again..?"
george snorted, leaning in "yeah, the look where they don't know whether to hit eachother or snog out of irritation."
ron looked up, genuinely confused. "i don't get it, are they fighting or flirting?"
ginny grinned "both. its their love language."
fred's jaw twitched.
you cocked up an eyebrow as if to challenge him.
george mirrored ginny's grin "ten sickles they'll either duel or shag before dessert."
she snickered, before whispering back "id pay to watch both"
fred blinked.
you smirked.
he groaned, dragging a hand down his face "you're insufferable."
you picked up your fork, victorious. "and you're predictable."
just then, molly entered with a tray of scones, pausing when she saw you two side by side, tension practically vibrating off of the table.
she raised an eyebrow "you two behaving?"
fred opened his mouth to speak, but you sharply jabbed your elbow into his side and he hissed under his breath
"perfectly" you responded sweetly, a smile of feigned innocence taking over your expression.
he winced, rubbing his side, but the glare he shot you was molten.
you two sat there quietly, like a storm bottled into a flimsy bottle. contained yet ready to explode at any moment.
it was 3 in the morning, you were still tossing and turning around in bed trying to doze off.
the only sound filling the room were ginny's soft snores and your steady breath.
you sighed, turning to lay flat on your back, staring at the still ceiling as if it held all the answers in the universe.
his words circled in your head, spiraling you into the familiar train of thoughts, but it felt different this time.
only a subtle difference tho, like two paintings switching places.
you groaned softly, burying your face into the pillow.
why do we keep tearing eachother apart like its the only way we know how to speak?
why do i keep breathing when every word he says steals the air from my lungs?
why do i keep hoping he'll break first, just so i don't have to?
why do we keep pretending this isn’t killing us, when hate has always been the only thing we’ve ever done right?
you weren't really angry anymore.
just... tired.
it was rare you let these thoughts crawl into your mind, only ever thinking about the raw hate you had for him.
but, sometimes, when its quiet at the burrow and most are asleep, it threatens to cloud up your thoughts.
the whys. the what ifs.
you don't really know why you've always hated eachother.
you were so caught up in hating him, you forgot why you hated him in the first place.
you racked your brain, but nothing came up. you only remember both of you having a seething hatred for eachother.
you shook your head to rid of the thought of you both ever liking eachother at some point when you were younger, turning on your side to attempt to go to bed again.
the morning sun filtered through the kitchen windows, casting a soft glow on the mugs of tea.
you sat at the table, trying to look alive despite the fact that sleep had treated you like a joke.
your brain had spent the night replaying every glare, every jab, and every insult, trying to remember why you even started despising eachother.
fred sat across from you, making sure it was painfully obvious that he let his expression twist into a grimace sharp enough to cut glass everytime his gaze reverted to you.
you rolled your eyes at him, when suddenly the fireplace flared out green flames, spitting out a dramatically coughing lee.
"LEE!" you, fred, and george screeched out far too loud for the hour in unison.
without hesitation, you three sprung up onto your feet.
you shoved fred, a bit harder than you intended.
"move, frederick." you snapped, elbowing him square in the ribs
he stumbled side ways, nearly knocking over a chair "oi! what the hell-"
"im more important" you snickered, exaggerated mock sweetness in your tone.
george, who was already next to lee, wheezed into his hand.
lee blinked, laughing between coughs "did someone just get body checked for me? i feel so loved"
you tackled him into a hug the moment you reached him "thank merlin you're here, you aren't very sane either but you're saner than them"
"hey!" george and ginny exclaimed at the same time
fred finally caught up, rubbing his side while grumbling "she assaulted me!"
you rolled your eyes once more at his dramatics, shoving his shoulder, not as hard as you elbowed him earlier though.
"don't be dramatic."
lee grinned, eyes flickering between you two "honestly, you two do know theres a difference between fighting and flirting, right?"
you and fred jerked your heads towards lee in sync, a look of pure mortification displayed on both your faces.
"can we not?" fred exasperated, and you kept the grimace on your face like the mere thought nauseated you.
"im just saying! you two argue like its foreplay" lee defended, pulling a cackle from ginny's throat
"WHAT?" you both shouted, and lee covered his ears
"IM JOKING!...mostly." lee added the last part quietly, throwing his hands up in surrender
you narrowed your eyes "you better be"
fred muttered under his breath "he's not."
lee smirked "okay, maybe around ten percent joking. but come on! you two argue like an old married couple."
you swiftly threw a cushion from the couch, aiming at lee's head
fred groaned dramatically "you're lucky i won't hex you"
you snorted "you couldn't throw a hex if it costed your life."
fred turned to you, an offended look on his expression "excuse me-"
lee clapped once, loudly. "you two start earlier everyday. im impressed."
ginny snickered "they start as soon as they even enter into eachothers line of sight"
lee dropped onto the couch dramatically, sighing as if he were ready for a show
"i live for this, its like two explosions colliding in slow motion"
fred huffed in exasperation "i need a restraining order."
you rolled your eyes the third time this morning
"you're acting like i stole your broom"
fred didn't even look up "you did steal my broom"
you blinked slowly "..that was two summers ago!"
fred grumbled "still!"
george and lee looked at eachother then at both of you with a knowing grin
"five sickles they're secretly dating" lee whispered loudly to george
"nah, ten they'll start dating by the end of summer." george whispered back in the same volume
fred groaned again, dragging a hand over his face "i hate you all"
ginny snapped her head towards fred "what did i do!"
you smirked "you hate me more"
lee held up a finger "but not as much as he lets off"
fred turned to lee slowly "do you want another cushion to the face"
lee shrugged "worth it"
you grabbed another pillow and tossed it at him with zero hesitation, and lee yelped, catching it mid air and hugging it like a trophy
"YES! I GOT IT! ITS LIKE A SOUVENIR FROM THEM TEAMING UP FOR ONCE!" he screeched, and george tried to grab it from him but lee smacked his hand away
"honestly, im just waiting for the day they slip up and call eachother 'love'" ginny teased, a lopsided grin crawling onto her expression
fred made a retching sound, pretending to throw up in his hand
"i would rather snog a grindylow."
you shot an eyebrow up "you already look like one."
ginny choked on her tea
and then, molly walked in, wearing a robe with rollers still in her hair, clearly not expecting anyone to be awake at this time.
"oh- goodness me, i didn't expect you lot to be awake at this time. i should start on- oh! lee! dear boy how long has it been since ive seen you?" molly rambled, engulfing lee into a bone crushing hug.
lee sucked in a breath
"its- its nice to see you too molly..!" he managed to choke out with the little oxygen he had in his lungs
george stifled a laugh, gently prying his mother off of his bestfriend
"alright mum, let the boy breathe"
molly reluctantly let lee go, and he smiled, before turning around to discreetly heave
"anyway, what were you lot doing?" molly questioned, putting her hands on her hips.
"watching y/n and fred argue like its a battle ground" ginny responded with a snicker
molly shook her head disapprovingly, sighing as she stared at you two
"its hard to believe the both of you used to be inseparable" she stated, and you both froze
"..what?" fred managed to croak out, looking as bewildered as you.
even the others were stunned into a state of shock, a pregnant beat of silence.
you gaped, unable to form a sentence. did she just say that? you weren't hallucinating were you? no, she definitely just said that.
every second felt like a long, stretching, agonizing hour. your chest twisted, and you nearly forgot how to inhale oxygen.
it felt lie someone carved your stomach out, and you zoned out trying to process the new piece of information.
"they- they used to be friends?" lee choked out behind the silence, nearly everyone's jaw ajar.
molly nodded "uh huh, glued to the hip. always off in their little own world."
george blinked "mum, are you sure it wasn't someone else? these two have been at eachothers throats since, well.. forever."
ginny's voice was quieter now, barely above a whisper.
"i thought they were just born hating eachother?"
molly chuckled softly as if she were remembering a warm memory, not peeling her gaze away from the mirror where she was removing her hair rollers
"not always. when they were little, they used to go on and make messes in the living room. cushions and blankets strewn everywhere and hung up fairy lights in their little forts."
you felt your throat run dry.
fred blinked, a quick flicker in his eyes, so quick you almost missed it. yet you caught it. you couldn't tell what it was, but it was different from the usual snark he used around you.
then he scoffed like he was trying to laugh it off "inseperable? mum, i think you've finally lost it. have you hit your head on the kettle?"
molly didn't even flinch "oh, don't be ridiculous dear, you and y/n used to be joined at the hip. always sneaking off to the garden at night, even had your own handshake."
you swallowed harshly, forcing yourself to make a joke, although it sounded strained. "a handshake? i would never let my hand so much as so graze his."
lee leaned forward, eyes wide. "this is like finding out snape used to knit."
george looked at fred, and then at you "i thought you two always hated each other? i mean come on, everytime the two of you are so much in the same room is like the air was replaced with tension."
fred shrugged casually, too casually. "we do."
you didn't say anything. you couldn't. you were still trying to absorb the word inseparable like it was in a different language.
molly kept going, blissfully unaware that she just made both of you question what was real.
"you used to steal my freshly made biscuits that haven't even cooled off properly yet and then eat them by the stairs together, giggling at godric knows what."
george leaned back, unusually serious. "so.. what happened?"
fred pressed his lips into a thin line, then shrugged again, although it looked more like a defense mechanism than a joke.
"she got annoying, i got charming. it was never going to work."
you rolled your eyes despite yourself "more like you got insufferable."
fred smirked, the same twitch of the lips that felt like a blade dipped in spite slicing through your flesh.
"same thing."
molly turned around, a frown displayed on her face. "you used to be so gentle with eachother."
fred hummed, but it sounded bitter.
you licked your lips, same venom in your tone, but it hid something else. something more vulnerable.
"well, not anymore"
molly sighed, staring at both of you with a softness that was too fluid like to carry. "you know, i always thought you two would- nevermind, i should get started on breakfast."
fred's voice was quiet and breathier now, but still laced with sarcasm "come on mum, don't be cryptic, thats her job"
you shot him a glare, but reverted your gaze back to molly like you wanted her to continue her sentence too
molly didn't turn around "nothing, dear. just silly thoughts."
lee leaned towards george, whispering quietly "reckon she was gonna say she thought they were gonna get married?"
george nodded solemnly "for sure."
ron walked in, rubbing his eyes and brushing shoulders lightly with his mother as she exited and walked to the kitchen.
he loudly yawned, then dropped down onto the couch, completely oblivious.
ginny snapepd her head towards ron before groaning "ronald."
it was 8pm and you, fred, lee, george, ginny, and ron were hanging out in the living room.
you and fred kept shooting snarky comments towards eachother like usual, but there was something else buried beneath it all.
he looked at you different. still the usual irritation in his orbs, but it felt off. like the annoyance was just a thin shell protecting something raw.
his gaze lingered on you, and you could feel his stare crawling on your skin.
the chatter around you felt like background noise, and you zoned out, eyes locked on the fire place as your thoughts tangled in what molly said earlier.
you didn't know how to feel. you didn't even know if you could believe it.
then lee made a joke, and you snapped out of it, laughing along, but it didn't feel real, like you were just laughing so you didn't seem unusual.
and yet, everyone felt the shift between the both of you.
fred chimed in and out of the conversation, quieter than usual, like he had the same thoughts in his head.
he leaned against the arm of the couch, arms crossed, eyes flicking toward you every few seconds like he couldn’t help it.
you tried not to notice. tried not to care. but the weight of his stare felt like long nails trying to pry into your flesh.
george cracked a joke about ron's hair looking like a lawn mower ran through it, and all of you slipped into laughter
you threw a jab about fred's shirt, something about it looking like he stole it from a troll who used old clothes as a rag.
he smirked "brave coming from someone who dresses like shes trying to scare off compliments."
you shot up an eyebrow "brave coming from someone whos probably the reason shampoo bottles have instructions."
george snorted, lee wheezed, ron looked like he wanted to disappear, ginny rolled her eyes but she was smiling.
"there they go again, its like the heart to heart with molly earlier never happened" lee sighed out, shaking his head playfully
fred scoffed "why would it? she walks in like shes everybodys favorite when really people only laugh because they don't know her long enough to get tired of her yet."
you paused. it wasn't the comment, it was the tone of his voice.
he didn’t say it like he was trying to win. he said it like it was a fact. like he’d thought it before. like he meant it.
your breath caught in your throat, and there was a flicker of regret on his face, but of course, since it was fred, he didn't take it back, just swallowed it down and looked away.
you inhaled shakily, clearing your throat and forcing an insult out
"funny. i could say the same about you. people only like you because they haven't had to deal with you alone."
his jaw clenched
"atleast i don't have to pretend to be likeable."
the others fell silent, lee shifting uncomfortably and ginny flickering her gaze between the both of you, clearly noticing the change in both of your tones.
you gave a deadpanned look, a stark contrast to how you actually felt.
"i'd rather have a conversation with a wall, atleast it doesn't twist everything i say into something manky."
fred exhaled, sharing the same look as you
"atleast a wall doesn't pretend its worth loving."
you blinked.
oh.
the thick silence felt suffocating.
you were sure that once you were buried six feet underground, the maggots that would dine on your heart would taste the lingering bitterness of his words.
fred's gaze softened, like he didn't mean to go that far.
every ounce of hope you and fred would be different after what molly said evaporated.
you stand up without a word, before stopping by the stairs without turning around
"atleast a wall doesn't need a laugh track to make it feel like it matters." you spat back calmly, before stepping up the stairs
the silence you left was quiet, yet louder than any joke fred had ever cracked.
you wake up with the events of last night still fresh in your mind.
the burrow is quiet once more, save for the distant clatter of pans downstairs. the sunlight filtered through the lace curtains and crooked windows, warm and golden, yet it didn't reach you. not really. atleast not in the depths of your thoughts.
his words echo in your head, like a catchy song you hate but can't stop humming in your brain.
"atleast a wall doesn't pretend its worth loving."
you don't know what hurt more. the insult itself, or the fact it came from him.
from fred weasley.
who was always an arse towards you, yet never cruel like that.
you don't allow yourself to cry. you just stared blankly at the ground like it said something so stupid it couldn't load into your head.
you forced yourself up, bare feet padding against the ground.
fred's at the table, hair messy, buttering toast like he didn't rip you open last night. like he didn't look you in the eyes and stated you were unloveable.
you didn't know what you expected. regret? silence? maybe for him not to show his face at all.
you feel everyones eyes on you the moment you walk in. ginny gives you a soft look, ron glances at fred then back at his plate, george exhales quietly under his breath and brushes a reassuring hand across your arm as you pass.
you sit in between lee and ginny, avoiding eye contact with fred.
"morning" lee whispered, shooting a glare towards fred "you okay?"
you just nod, not trusting yourself to speak
fred glanced your way once, then again, then a third time. longer.
ginny passed you the jam without asking. fred reached for the butter, but hesitates when your hand brushes the dish first, then he pulls back.
you spend the day avoiding corners.
corners mean quiet. quiet means alone. alone means fred.
and you know hes trying to catch you alone.
you see it in the way he lingered near doorways, always a second too late to catch you.
in how he volunteered to help his mother with the laundry the exact moment you do.
in how he suddenly cared about feeding the chickens when you're headed to the coop.
but he's still fred. still sharp. but it was glazed over with something else.
"don't strain yourself trying to be useful," he muttered when you pass him in the hallway.
you don't respond.
you don't even blink.
its the third time today he's tried to bait you. the third time you've given him nothing.
and its driving him mad.
at lunch, he sat across from you, arms crossed, eyes flicking up every few seconds.
you talk to ginny. you laugh with george. and yet, you don't look at him.
he droped his fork, and you don't even flinch.
he cleared his throat exaggeratedly, yet you just keep eating.
later, you escape to the orchid behind the burrow, hoping for peace. but of course, he finds you, suddenly very interested in apples
he sighed loudly behind you, and you pluck a fruit from a tree, ignoring him.
he sighed louder but you don't give in, acting as if he were a gust of wind.
he blinked, and then stepped closer, speaking in a mumble
"i didn't mean it."
you lick your lips, hes still wearing the mask. still smug, still guarded. but his voice cracks, and thats how you know his edges are fraying.
you don't speak. because if he wants to apologize, he'll have to strip the armor off first. and you weren't gonna do it for him.
you stand up, heading back inside and leaving him out there in the scraps of your presence.
you were in ginny's room alone whilst she was downstairs helping molly out with chores.
the events of the day and the night before finally fully loaded into your head, yet you weren’t crying. not yet. but your chest felt like it was caving in.
you hated him. you hated how much you didn’t hate him.
and then, a knock.
soft. hesitant. like they knew they didn't deserve to be there.
you don’t answer, knowing that knock anywhere, but the door creaked open anyway.
fred stepped in, eyes tireder than usual, and he repeated what he said earlier.
"i didn't mean it."
you don’t look at him.
"doesn't matter."
he looked down, and a rare repentant look overcame his expression.
"i was confused and angry, i said it to hurt you."
you finally looked up, your tone dry despite the weight your words carried.
"congrats. it worked."
he flinched.
"i don't think you're unlovable." he said quietly, his voice breaking in the middle. "i think im scared you aren't."
you stared at him, disbelief crossing your face
"you don't get to say that. not after everything."
fred nodded slowly, like he knew. like he’d been waiting for you to say it.
"i know."
he turned to leave, but then he paused.
"but for what its worth.. i think you're the only person who saw me without the jokes. when we were younger, atleast.."
you stood up.
"and you hated it."
he turned back, eyes sharp now.
"no. i hated that it made me feel something."
you stepped closer, voice low, yet scratchy with the hurt from the long periods of arguing.
"then maybe you should've kept your mouth shut."
fred’s jaw clenched.
"maybe you should've stopped pretending you didn't care."
you laughed, bitter and hollow.
"pretending? You think I wanted to care? you think I chose to let you in just so you could break me apart in bits and pieces slowly like it’s a bloody game?"
his voice rose, raw and ragged. "you think I wanted to say that to you? you think I don’t hate myself for it?"
you scoffed, staring at him like he wasn't real
"then why did you say it, fred? why was hurting me the first thing you reached for?"
he blinked, shoulders tense, like he was trying to hold himself together with sheer force.
"because you make me feel like I’m not just the idiot with a punchline. and I didn’t know what to do with that."
you jabbed your finger into his chest harshly
"you can't just twist it into something poetic. not after ruining me."
his breath hitched, voice dropping low.
"you think you didn’t ruin me too?"
you froze.
"you knew exactly where to aim." he breathed out, tone laced with the same hurt yours carried, like he was just as tired.
"every time you called me hollow, or said I was just noise, you knew that would stick. and you said it like you wanted it to."
you stepped forward, voice sharp.
"because I wanted you to feel how I felt!"
his voice got louder, like he was trying to protect the vulnerability in it
"and I did! you think it didn’t wreck me every time you looked at me like I was failing you?"
"I never looked at you like that!" you snapped, "i waited for you! i waited for you to catch up."
"I didn’t know how!" he shouted, "you were changing and I was stuck and I didn’t know how to move!"
"you didn’t need to change!" you cried, "I needed you to grow up with me!"
his eyes softened, but he didn't back down
"and I needed you to stop expecting me to be someone I wasn't ready to be!"
your voice was loud yet breathy, tired from always pushing and pulling when it came to him
"I wasn't expecting anything! I was begging you to care, till it turned into a bloody tug of war every time we spoke."
"i did care! i cared so much it scared the hell out of me!"
"you didn't act like it!"
"i didn't know how to hold it without breaking!"
"you broke me anyway!"
"we broke us!"
and then, all the years of loathing snapped tight.
you didn’t know who moved first.
maybe it was him.
maybe it was you.
but suddenly his hands were in your hair and your mouth was on his.
it was teeth clashing. fury. hurt. it was everything unsaid crashing all at once.
you bit his lip, hard.
he hissed but didn't pull away, his hands tangling tighter in your strands like he needed the pain to ground him.
you shoved him back against the wall, lips still locked, rage pouring out of you in every breath
"i hate you." you gasped against his mouth
"i hate you too." he raggedly spoke against your lips
your teeth sunk into his bottom lip again.
"i hate how you make me feel like im not enough" you spat
"i hate how you make me feel like im too much" he snapped
"i hate that i still want you." you breathlessly whispered
"i hate that i never stopped wanting you.'' he quietly responded, his tone softer. like he was exhausted trying to hate you.
you pulled back first, breathless, eyes wide.
he chased after your lips like it physically pained him to pull away.
"i hate how much i love you." he bit out, like the words burned sliding out.
you stared at him, stunned, chest heaving.
neither of you moved, panting in the air of something you would regret later.
not about setting fire to something you knew you wouldn't be able to stop
yet, it kept happening. it wasn't planned, it wasn't smart, and you didn't know what to do with it.
its been two weeks.
two weeks of pretending.
two weeks of sneaking around.
two weeks of "i despise you" in public, and "come here" in private.
you remember what happened after the kiss.
-
you stared at him, stunned, chest heaving.
his eyes didn’t waver. they were glassy, red-rimmed, but locked on yours like he was daring you to say something that would make it all collapse again.
you didn’t.
you couldn’t.
because the worst part was, you didn’t know if you wanted to scream or kiss him again.
fred’s breathing was uneven, his lip bleeding where your teeth had sunk in. but he didn’t wipe it. didn’t flinch.
he just stood there, wrecked. and waiting.
"i should hate you," you whispered, voice barely holding together.
"i know," he said, "i should hate me too."
silence.
heavy. cracked. fragile.
then, like the room couldn’t hold it anymore, you turned away. just slightly. just enough to break the eye contact.
but he stepped forward, slow. careful. like he knew one wrong move would shatter everything.
"i don’t know how to fix this,” he whispered, "i don’t even know if i can."
you didn’t answer.
because you didn’t know either.
but your fingers twitched at your side, aching to reach for him. to push him away. to pull him closer.
and fred saw it. he always saw it.
so he didn’t touch you.
he just stood there, bleeding from your bite, breathing in your silence, and waiting for the moment to pass.
-
it didn’t. it spiraled from there. the quiet meet ups, the lingering touches, the burning looks.
neither of you knew what it was, but both of you kept showing up like you couldn't help it. like it was a drug you were addicted to.
you’d gone out to grab the broom polish.
that was it.
one errand.
in and out.
but the shed door creaked open and there he was. already inside, crouched by the shelves, muttering to himself as he dug through a box labeled 'DO NOT OPEN (RON).'
you froze in the doorway.
fred looked up, blinked once, and smirked. "well, if it isn’t my favorite stalker."
you stepped inside, letting the door fall shut behind you. "you wish."
he stood, brushing dust off his hands "what are you doing here?"
you raised an eyebrow. "what are you doing here?"
he grinned "i asked first."
you crossed your arms "i was sent for broom polish."
he nodded, stepping closer. "and I was sent for… something i already forgot. but now I’m thinking it might’ve been fate."
you rolled your eyes, but your heart was already doing that thing again. stupid, traitorous, loud.
he was too close. the shed was too small. and the air between you was already thick with everything you weren’t saying.
he leaned against the workbench, arms crossed, eyes on you like he was trying to figure out what version of you he’d get tonight.
you didn’t move.
he tilted his head. "you gonna keep pretending this is a coincidence?"
you shrugged. "you gonna keep pretending you don’t wait for me?"
that shut him up.
for a second, anyway.
then he stepped forward, slow, deliberate, like he was testing the floorboards and the space between you all at once. "you’re in a mood.”
you smirked. "you bring it out of me.”
he grinned wider. "you like it.”
you hated how true that was.
you hated how close he was now, how the shed felt like it was spinning even though neither of you had moved, how you didn't hate it as much as you should.
you hated how much you wanted him to touch you.
so you did it first.
you grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him in, and kissed him like you were trying to shut him up and set him on fire at the same time.
he kissed you back like he’d been waiting all day.
it was messy. it was fast. it was familiar.
his hands found your waist, yours tangled in his hair, and for a moment, the shed didn’t exist. the burrow didn’t exist. nothing existed except the way he moved his lips against yours like he was trying to memorize it.
when you pulled back, breathless, you didn't let go.
neither did he.
you caught your breath, eyes closed, heart racing. "this is getting dangerous."
you wanted to stomp up the stairs and throw something and yell about how fred weasley was the most infuriating person to ever exist.
but you didn’t.
you just walked.
fast. quiet. controlled.
like if you moved too loudly, someone would hear what your heart was doing.
you ducked into the linen closet again. not because it was romantic. not because it was planned. just because it was the only place in the burrow where the walls didn’t talk.
you leaned against the shelves, arms crossed, breathing hard.
and then you heard footsteps.
you didn’t have to guess.
fred opened the door without knocking, slipped inside, and shut it behind him like he’d done it a hundred times.
you didn’t look at him.
he didn’t speak.
the silence stretched, thick and familiar, like something you’d both learned to wear.
then he whispered, "you storm off like you mean it."
you turned, slow. "you follow me like you don’t."
he stepped closer, eyes soft like he knew he wasn't just a boy you tolerated anymore.
"you throw insults like you’re trying to keep me away."
you didn’t blink. "you catch them like you want to stay."
he was too close now. the closet was too small. and the air between you was already humming.
his voice dropped, just enough to make your breath hitch.
"you always do that thing with your hands when you’re mad.''
you frowned. "what thing?"
he reached out, sliding your hands in his
"that twitch. same one you did right before you kissed me."
you pursed your lips.
he didn’t smile. didn’t smirk. just looked at you like he was waiting for you to lie.
you pulled your hand back. "we’re not talking about that."
"i didn’t say we were."
"you’re implying."
"i’m remembering."
you hated that.
you hated how much you wanted to remember it too.
you stepped back, but the shelves stopped you. he didn’t move.
"you gonna keep pretending?" he asked.
you didn’t answer.
you just stared at him, heart pounding, fingers twitching again.
his eyes flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes.
and you hated that he noticed.
you hated that you wanted him to.
so you stepped forward, and kissed him like you were still mad about it.
like you were trying to shut him up.
like you were trying to make him forget every word he's thrown at you downstairs.
and he kissed you back like he’d been waiting for it.
and for a moment, the world narrowed to breath and heat and the sound of your heart trying to outrun itself.
when you pulled back, you didn’t let go.
neither did he.
"you’re really bad at hating me." he whispered
you smiled. "you’re really good at making me try."
ginny was curled up on the swing, flipping through a magazine.
george and lee were arguing over who’d pulled off the better prank last summer.
ron was halfway through a bag of crisps, barely listening.
you were seated on the edge of the porch steps, arms crossed, eyes locked on fred across the yard.
he was pretending not to look at you. you were pretending not to care.
ginny narrowed her eyes, watching the silent war unfold.
"okay," she suddenly said, loud enough to cut through the noise.
"can we all agree something’s going on with those two?"
george looked up. "you mean the glaring?"
lee grinned. "or the tension so thick I could cut it with a wand?"
ron blinked. "wait, are they fighting again?"
ginny rolled her eyes. "obviously, ron. that's all they do. but its.. different."
"don't know what you're on about"
you dismissed, suddenly very interested in protecting your eyes from the harsh glow of the sun that has been splaying rays across the grass since earlier
george leaned back, smirking. "they’re either gonna kill each other or kiss."
you didn’t hesitate. "kill."
fred didn’t hesitate either. "kiss."
the yard froze.
ginny blinked. "wait, what?"
fred coughed, waving a hand. ""kill. i said kill."
lee raised an eyebrow. "pretty sure you said kiss."
fred shrugged, grabbing a biscuit from the table. "you heard wrong."
you didn’t look at him.
he didn’t look at you.
but you both felt it.
the slip. the truth. the heat.
later that night, you found him by the garden wall.
the burrow was glowing behind you, windows casting multicolored shreds of light from the stained glass.
the air was cool, quiet. the tension simmered out.
fred leaned against the bricks, arms crossed, eyes softer now.
"you didn’t correct me," he said, a dangerous smirk on his face
you stepped closer, voice low. "you didn’t mean to say it."
he looked at you. really looked at you. like he was admiring your every feature.
"I did."
you swallowed, heart thudding. "then why lie?"
he shrugged, a little helpless.
"because if they knew, it wouldn’t be ours anymore."
you didn’t answer.
you just reached for him.
and this time, it wasn’t teeth. it wasn’t fury.
it was slow. it was quiet. it was soft.
his hands found your waist. yours found his shirt.
and when he kissed you, it felt like breathing again.
"i hate you," you whispered against his mouth, yet it sounded like a confession.
it was another night where you twisted and turned in bed and couldn't sleep.
you sighed, sitting up and gazing at ginny's sleeping frame
you contemplated for a moment, too bright for sleep yet too still for motion.
you huffed, forcing yourself up an letting your feet grace the cold floor seeing as you were too wired to slip into a slumber.
you carefully stepped over the creaky floorboards that you memorized from all the nights you've snuck awake, careful as to not awaken your bestfriend. because last time that happened, you got a pillow to the head.
the door creaked open, and your breath hitched when ginny stirred, halting all your movements till you heard the echo of her snores again.
you slid out the room and carefully pushed it shut with controlled movement, finally breathing as you made your way downstairs to the kitchen
of course, somehow, you find him there again. but this time instead of a look of irritation crossing your expression, a soft smile crept its way onto your face.
fred looked up, and immediately smirked. same smirk that still danced on the edge of your sanity, only for a different reason now.
he was perched on the counter, legs swinging, hair a mess, yet somehow still charming.
"knew you'd come"
he teased, his tone wrapped in a softness which was a stark difference from the spite laced tone he used to take over before.
you playfully rolled your eyes, arthur's old muggle radio was seated on the windowsill playing something warm that made the air feel like velvet.
"stalker."
he hops down, wanders over, and bumps your hip with his.
"insomniac"
you grabbed a glass from the shelf, filled it at the sink, and leaned against the counter beside him.
you sat in a comfortable silence, till the octave of elvis presley's voice drifted through your eardrums singing can't help falling in love/
you absent mindedly hummed along to the song, and fred listened to you with a dazed look on his expression like your voice was the only sound he wanted to ever bless his hearing.
he set his mug down, turning on his heel and catching your waist into his hands
you shook your head "no."
he held up a hand "yes."
you snort "we'll wake the entire burrow"
a lazy grin slipped onto his expression "come on. no one's watching."
you hesitated, then set your glass down and let him pull you to the middle of the kitchen.
it wasn't graceful, your socks slide. his foot knocked into a chair. you nearly trip over your own feet.
he caught you with a laugh that he tried to swallow, and you both ended up giggling into each other’s shoulders with stupid grins like you used to do when you were children.
shall i stay
would it be a sin?
"you always come downstairs when you can't sleep"
he whispered, smile still plastered on his face like he couldn't get rid of it even if he tried
you smiled "so do you"
if i can't help
falling in love with you
his hands stayed at your waist, thumbs brushing slow circles through the fabric of your shirt.
you didn’t know if he realized he was doing it. you didn’t know if you wanted him to stop.
the song curled around you like a blanket, soft and golden and too honest.
like a river flows,
surely to the sea,
darling so it goes,
some things are meant to be
you swayed together, clumsy and quiet, your socks slipping on the floor every few steps.
his foot knocked into the leg of the table again, and you both stifled laughter behind bitten lips.
"we’re going to wake someone." you whispered behind your grin
he leaned in, forehead nearly touching yours. "then we’ll blame the radio."
you giggled, and he smiled like it was his favorite sound.
the fridge hummed. the clock ticked. the house stayed asleep.
not the usual kind of quiet, the muffled chaos of weasleys in other rooms, the distant clatter of pans in the kitchen.
no.
this was real quiet.
everyone was out. errands, garden work, somewhere else.
you and fred claimed the living room hours ago.
you were curled up on the couch, legs tucked under you, the blanket wrapped around your shoulders even though it wasn’t cold.
fred was sprawled beside you, head tilted back, one foot resting on the coffee table, holding a book upside down.
you squinted. "you're not even trying."
he peeked at you over the edge of the pages. "i'm absorbing it through osmosis."
you snorted. "you’re absorbing dust."
he grinned, tossed the book aside, and dropped down until his head landed in your lap.
you blinked. "excuse me?"
he closed his eyes dramatically. "i'm tired. you're soft. it's a perfect arrangement."
you rolled your eyes, but your fingers found his hair anyway, brushing through the strands like it was second nature.
he hummed. "see? you pretend you don't like me, but your hands say otherwise."
you tugged gently. "my hands are traitors."
he cracked one eye open, smile lazy. "they’re loyal to comfort."
you didn’t answer, but there was a soft grin on your expression.
you just kept combing through his hair, slow and absent, while the sunlight shifted across the floor and the clock ticked like it was trying not to interrupt.
"you smell like vanilla." he murmured sleepily
you blinked. "that's oddly specific."
he shrugged. "you always do. It’s nice."
you felt your cheeks warm, but didn’t move.
his eyes fluttered shut again, and for a while, neither of you spoke. yhe silence wasn’t heavy. it was soft. like a blanket. like a secret.
you traced a lazy circle behind his ear, watching the way his lashes fluttered. he didn’t speak, but his smile deepened, slow and sleepy.
then he whispered, "you're my favorite part of this house."
you froze.
he didn’t open his eyes. didn’t move. just let the words hang there, quiet and golden.
"you're mine too" you whispered back
he smiled, like he’d known you'd say it. like he’d been waiting.
you stayed like that, his head in your lap, your fingers in his hair, the world outside forgotten.
the blanket slipped off your shoulder, and he tugged it over both of you without opening his eyes.
his hand found your knee, rested there, warm and steady.
you leaned back into the cushions, letting your head tip against the armrest, letting the moment stretch.
the clock ticked. the sun dipped lower. the room glowed.
he shifted, just enough to press his cheek against your thigh. "if i fall asleep like this, don't wake me."
you smiled. "i wasn’t planning to."
he sighed, content and quiet, and you felt it in your bones. the kind of peace that only came when everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.
and yet.. there was still an uneasy feeling that settled in your chest.
Bill Weasley, listening to the story of his younger brother, who just entered Hogwarts, about how he made his first friend ->
Charlie Weasley, watching as his younger brother waits for they team's new keeper after every training session to help with homework ->
George and Fred Weasley, who practice longer than the others in the morning training because it's a punishment from the captain of their Quidditch team for making disgusting jokes about their older brother ->
Ron Weasley, celebrating Gryffindor Quidditch Cup with everyone else, sees the team's captain, drunk and cheerful, laughing with his older brother instead of the rest of the team ->
Molly Weasley finding a sock in Padlemere United colors in her house ->
Arthur Weasley, sorting through owl's household mail in the early morning and noticing Hermes, who has three letters from the same person, addressed to his third son ->
Percy Weasley and Oliver Wood genuinely don't understand why no one is surprised by their relationship, because it was so UNEXPECTED and UNPREDICTABLE
