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.”
weasley brothers when... you sleep in unexpectedly ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁
mdni 18+ | divider by @rookthornesartistry
Bill: bill always woke up first. his mornings were his own, a cherished pocket of time he'd coveted growing up in a house full of miscreants.
but, he'd be lying if he said his favorite part of the morning wasn't when you came plodding down the stairs, bedraggled and snuffling for sustenance like a creature fresh out of hibernation. which should have happened by now, if his page count was any indication.
he glanced at the clock on the wall, sighed, and tucked his book under his arm. ventured through the house in search of you. he found you sprawled out in bed, the sheet pooled around your legs, one of his old t-shirts bunched at your ribs.
greedy thing. he sighed again. set his tea on the windowsill and folded himself into the too-small armchair beside the bed. he continued reading for a while, until the book dipped closer and closer to his chest, the words blurring together as his eyes drooped.
two hours later, he stirred when a weight settled on top of him. you—he realized—curling up into his lap and dragging the quilt over your bodies.
the chair groaned in protest. the king-sized bed sat rumpled and empty. your elbow dug into his liver.
he buried his nose into your hair and closed his eyes once more.
Charlie: charlie returned from his morning run to find you cocooned on his side of the bed, hair a wild spill across his pillow. he looked down at himself, half-dressed, sweaty, then back at you, snuggly, peaceful. a darling, vaguely croissant-shaped angel.
you’d kill him if he got into bed all sweaty. he'd die if he didn't crawl into your skin right that second. a borderline crisis before 8 a.m.
solution: speed shower. he'd taken so many frigid showers in wintery Romania, it was practically an art form. in-and-out before the tingling starts. but this was a new personal record. two minutes and sixteen seconds. he counted it down like a prison sentence.
once mostly dry, he flopped on top of you, burrowing into your neck through the layer of blankets. you grumbled about his wet hair, but kissed him anyway. he vowed to never go for a morning run ever again.
Percy: “are you sick?” his hand breached the gap in your covers to press against your forehead. icy fingers brushed along your cheek. “you feel a bit warm.”
you were still too asleep to respond. groaning in a way that, to him, sounded a lot like “fuck off”.
“do you need medicine? tea? i can call the physician right now—”
your snore interrupted him. he frowned. his findings were inconclusive without your input. he had a lot of ministry work to do this morning, but…
work can wait, he supposed.
he crawled into bed beside you. just to observe you, just for a little while, to make absolutely sure you weren't sick. studied the lengths of your breaths, the shade of your lips, anything that might indicate discomfort. but, even when he was satisfied that you weren't ill, just extra sleepy, he found he still couldn't tear himself away.
just a bit longer, to be sure.
Fred: it was fred's fault, really. he shouldn't be surprised you were still sleeping. he'd insisted you join him and his friends at the pub for a pint. said that it would be a chill evening, just a few beers and some laughs.
a few beers became a few shots became dancing on the bar became stumbling home on his arm, your heels and purse hooked over his shoulder.
ten hours later, propped up on his elbow against the mattress, he brushed a thumb along the gray smudges of makeup under your closed eyes, plucked a speck of glitter still clinging to your hair. he didn't remember there being glitter at the pub, but you always seemed to find it anyway.
he liked that about you. he liked everything about you.
despite his own throbbing head, he pushed himself out of bed and set to gathering some hangover supplies. you, poor thing, were going to need them.
George: george didn't really consider himself an artist. his talents began and ended with sketching prototypes and product designs. but sometimes, when no one was looking and inspiration struck, he would bring out his secret sketchbook. the one he kept hidden in a drawer by the bed.
the lines of your sleeping face took shape under his pencil. clumsy, a little out of proportion, but he didn't mind much. capturing your beauty was an impossibility, anyway. even with a camera, he'd never been able to immortalize the ethereal slope of your cupid's bow, or the darling wrinkle between your brow when you concentrate.
there was no lens or filter that could cast you in the same brilliance his heart did. it was a version of you only visible through his eyes.
but, that didn't stop him from trying, if only so he could remember this moment, how breathtaking you are in the late-morning sun, forever.
he filled one page with your likeness, then another, until his hand was cramping and you began to stir. maybe one day he'd show you, but for now, he was content to snuggle you to back to sleep, sketchbook tucked safely away for another seraphic moment.
Ron: woke up once when a particularly blinding streak of sunlight reflected off the glass of water on your bedside table and into his eyes. noticed you were still sound asleep beside him, a rare and precious miracle. duvet curled under your chin, soft little snores stirring the tendrils of hair that had escaped your sleep style. painfully sweet.
he was the richest man in the world.
he didn't even bother to check the time. just curled himself around you, arm slung over your waist to tug you closer.
did your sleepy, oblivious squirming go straight to his dick? maybe.
was he a gentleman and laid still so as not to poke you with it? mostly yes.
did he fall back asleep too quickly to actually do anything about it? definitely yes.
(none of these works are mine !) — masterlist & dividers credits
Disclaimer : all fanfics listed here belong to their respective authors. please check out their profiles for more amazing work!
Last Update : 10 Jan 2026
⚠ : the recs in red have broken links, looks like the authors may have changed their usernames or deleted the post. if anyone knows the current username/situation please let me know so i can update it ! thanks
[ s ] smut [ a ] angst [ sm! ] social media!au
ron
(by @yasministration)
୨୧ sewing kit ୨୧ The instant Ron came to you asking for help sewing a rip in his t-shirt, Molly knew you were the woman he was going to marry."
[ s ] ୨୧ buy you a drink ୨୧ when ron unexpectedly meets the girl of his dreams through a one night stand, he rushes to tell his friends the next day. but unfortunately, that reveals some new information about you, the apparent love of his life.
୨୧ the chosen one ୨୧ harry may be the chosen one, but he wasn’t the one you chose.
୨୧ no title ୨୧
[ s ] ୨୧ sharing is caring pt1 ୨୧ ron gets jealous and decides to finds out how good his enemy feels, his enemy who'd dating his big brother... (by @sivyera)
[ s ] ୨୧ no title ୨୧ Perv!Ron sneaking around to watch Freddie fuck you. (by @nottsangel-rip)
୨୧ no title ୨୧ you, oblivious as ever, hadn’t caught on to ron’s not-so-subtle signals about his feelings for you. (by @slvqtore)
୨୧ ron weasley and his 5 attemps to ask you out ୨୧ Ron keeps trying to ask you out, fails every time—until he finally kisses you in the Gryffindor common room. (by @lumosflairr)
[ s ] ୨୧ Thinking ‘bout perv!Ron giving into his urges at dinner… ୨୧ (by @enzosbabyangel)
fred
(by @/yasministration)
୨୧ lingering perfume ୨୧ harry has warned you that if you don't stop stealing his sweaters, he'll tell your parents about your boyfriend. but your parents are very much aware of your relationship, so harry goes one step further.
୨୧ wrong twin ୨୧ for a long, gruelling minute, angelina is under the impression that her best friend has a crush on her boyfriend. but no, that’s the wrong twin.
୨୧ important distraction ୨୧ fred is more than happy to welcome you as a distraction after working for new product ideas for the weasleys wizard wheezes
୨୧ not a random boy list ୨୧ harry can’t believe that of all people, you had to start dating his best friend’s brother, because now he is constantly exposed to the gag-worthy displays of affection between you. but it’s okay, because harry likes to be an annoying younger brother.
(by @maria021015)
୨୧ figure you out ୨୧ Cedric Diggory was a good boyfriend. He was loyal, and kind, and handsome. He was smart, and thoughtful, and hardworking. He was a great boyfriend, even. Just not for you.
୨୧ verituserum ୨୧ Fred, George, and Lee have been avoiding you all day and you’ve had enough. When you blackmail your way into the Gryffindor common room to confront them, you don’t expect Fred to start bombarding you with strange compliments. You definitely don’t expect what comes next.
[ f ] ୨୧ wanna be yours ୨୧ helping a younger student resulted in you and the first-year walking into a prank not meant for you, and as you do so, you catch Fred's attention. the next day he tries to apologise with another prank and it backfires, but this only resulted in him falling even harder for you, he just knew wanted to be yours. (by @mssorceressupreme)
୨୧ latency lingering chp1 / chp2 ୨୧ just over three years after making the decision to end things with Fred to keep yourself and your new secret(s) from holding him back, you’re finally faced with the consequences when you run into Molly and she sees those very same “secrets” for herself. Suddenly, it seems very unlikely that a life without Fred Weasley in it will remain possible for you. (by @weasleys-wizard-writes)
୨୧ through the seasons ୨୧ he would love you till the end of time. everyone can see it, and they can only hope that you’ll come to your senses and realize that too. (by @kyber-crystal)
୨୧ "five minutes of heaven" ୨୧ Fred risks losing Quidditch unless his grades improve, so his girlfriend sets up a study reward system: 25 minutes of focus earns him 5 minutes of kissing. The deal motivates Fred, turning dreaded study sessions into playful, passionate moments. With her help, his grades rise, Quidditch victories follow, and their romance only deepens — proving she’s both his best tutor and his greatest reward. (by @ifaxchsn)
୨୧ pain adn promises ୨୧ A rivalry that has been going on for four years suddenly begins to change when you help Fred's little sister. (by @marvelwitchergilmore)
୨୧ chic magnet ୨୧ Fred uses his brother's baby to attract women. (by @vivianette)
charlie
(by @agreeewrites)
[ s ] ୨୧ best friends brother pt1 ୨୧ You are Fred & George’s best friend, and meet their mysterious older brother, Charlie, at a product launch at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.
୨୧ noctura ୨୧ your immortal life is spent in the shadows, working at your Maker’s bar in Romania to keep yourself fed and occupied, but everything changes when you catch the eye of a certain dauntless dragonologist.
୨୧ banana bread offerings ୨୧ you offer some banana bread to the most attractive weasley, eager to make him fall in love with you. (by @/yasministration)
george
(by @/yasministration)
[ s ] ୨୧ dear diary ୨୧ Ron can't help his crush on his older brother's girlfriend, and catches himself in some inconvenient situations.
୨୧ reasonless hatred ୨୧ severus snape's daughter causes him nothing but chaos, hatred where love should be in their relationship. but she is finally given a real reason to hate her father, and she decides to give him one to hate her too.
୨୧ packing ୨୧ Instead of packing your boyfriend's clothes away, you’d like to see what he’s packing underneath them all.
[ s ] ୨୧ no title ୨୧ g.w is literally the biggest boobs man, he just love to peek into your shirt to see them, touch them, suck on them literally a baby. (by @/nottsangel-rip)
bill
୨୧ "malfoy" "weasley" ୨୧ when you watch the quidditch world cup with your family, the last thing you're expecting is to see an old friend. a weasley. (by @/yasministration)
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.
