Her Faithful Guide
So it's been a very long time since I wrote something for the Harry Potter universe, but I had an idea out of nowhere.
Low and behold, I've decided to post my new Fred Weasley imagine, I hope you will all like it. Please let me know what you think.
Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17
@mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05 @creat1venat1onn @devilslittlehelper @darlingcharling-blog @bear8585 @nickie-amore @elliott-calls @person-005 @mbioooo0000 @amara-mars @shypy92 @nikfigueiredo @sabsthedoll @rach2602 @itshamleth @ladespedidas @devilslittlehelper @buckslifeline @wanniiieeee @jaydaaasworld @theelementofsurprisee @andrewgarfieldislife @lover-rep-fanfic
Main Masterlist
Summary: (Y/n) might not have her sight, but when Fred's around, sight becomes irrelevant. He'll always guide her, and she always knows when he's near.
(Inspired in part by the movie The Village)
Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was over.
The collective sigh that flooded the air and shifted the atmosphere told (Y/n) as much. She could hear the dismissive sigh followed by a grunt which clearly marked the end of the lesson and it seemed that everyone was happy to flee the room. Even Professor Snape seemed relieved not to have to deal with their class anymore.
Sometimes (Y/n) wondered why Snape, amongst other professors, became teachers when they didn't seem very happy or eager to help them learn. The best part of their lessons seemed to be the same as it was for every student; the end.
(Y/n) shoulders sagged down as she slumped forward until she was pressing into the edge of the desk.
Her fingers traced over the smooth wood until she felt the rough edge of her essay paper and the soft feather edges of the quill now resting on the table. The quill was as long as (Y/n)'s forearm and tickled (Y/n)'s fingertips when she gathered the quill and paper up to put them in her bag.
No one else at Hogwarts had an enchanted quill the same as (Y/n)'s, but then again, no one else needed a quill that would transcribe every word they whispered.
Everyone else could see the words they were writing.
(Y/n)'s hands were her eyes, they were how she saw the world, through touch and feeling. But she couldn't touch words, she couldn't write or put her words and essays and tests down on paper.
This quill was her only way of writing and doing her homework without needing someone else to write everything down for her. Having someone else write for her meant either (Y/n) would tell them answers they might not know, or the other way around. This was the easiest thing for everyone.
Once everything was in her bag, (Y/n) looped it over her right shoulder and pressed her palms back down against the edge of the desk so she could climb down from her seat.
"Need a hand?"
"I'm good." (Y/n) angled her head to the left and flashed a smile in Ron's direction.
It was sweet of him to ask, and he always did. For most of their classes they seemed to be paired up and sat next to one another, and it was a relief. (Y/n) didn't want to sit next to anyone else, they treated her differently.
She'd had someone grab her elbow once and try to roughly steer her through the classroom as if (Y/n) were a toddler. Others repeated the professor's words back to her like they thought she was deaf as well as blind. And some ignored her in exams and wouldn't let her help when they were making potions or asked to perfect spells.
Most people assumed (Y/n) couldn't do anything for herself and she was only in the classroom to listen rather than learn and partake in practicals.
At least with Ron, he relied on (Y/n). He let her take the lead in potions, as long as he told her which one was which when the bottles were the same shape, then he would sit back and let (Y/n) work. He treated her more like an equeal than anyone else.
And he was always ready to offer help if needed.
(Y/n) listened to the sounds around her while she tilted her chin up. She took three steps ahead until she was at the end of the desk and turned left, following right after Ron.
When she first came to Hogwarts, she had been allowed to roam the halls on her own. She had to get a map of the school in her mind, she had to find the layout of each classroom so she would be able to walk around like she had a working pair of eyes.
If she knew where each table and chair was, if she knew how many paces down the hall it was then she could find her way. If she could feel the shape of the different potion bottles she could get to know which one was which. Just like she knew the way to her dorm was twenty steps up the stairs, down to the end of the hall and the room on the left beside the window and her bed was the first on the right beside the door.
Her right hand curled around her bag, making sure it stayed tight on her shoulder while her left hand reached out in front of her, trying to find where the door was.
Just as her fingertips scratched along the old door with rusted iron hinges, (Y/n)'s body lurched forward and her feet stumbled when a large heavy shoulder thrust into her back.
It was deliberate, she was sure of that.
Her jaw clenched from side to side causing her teeth to grate together as she tried to regain her balance and sense of composure.
She heard a chuckle as the person who pushed their way past her passed so close by that she could feel their robes brushing along her arm and the sound of their footsteps thundered in her ears. Their steps were harsh and heavy and seemed to shake the stone floor. Not light and fast like Harry's steps that made him seem like he was running on water.
"Be careful, Goyle." She muttered gruffly and turned her back to him to wipe the satisfaction from him so he couldn't see her anger.
"What makes you think it was me?"
(Y/n) huffed but she couldn't quite hide the smirk from her features and she turned her head to glance in the direction she knew he was in. "The smell."
It was partly true, she could smell the sweat that soaked into Goyle's clothes and set him apart from everyone else. Just like when she was close to Ron, she could smell the chocolate frogs he usually ate in the common room after dinner. Or when the Weasley twins had been working on some miniature fireworks, she could smell the powder and ash on their robes.
But it was Goyle's footsteps that alerted (Y/n) that it was him more than any smell or other senses she had. Footsteps were like fingerprints to (Y/n), when there were thousands of steps rushing together down the hall, then she couldn't make a distinct match. But when one or two people were close by, she could tell by the way they hurried or dragged their feet or walked on tip toes who it was beside her.
She presumed by the grunt that he let out that he wasn't impressed with her words, but she stumbled back once again when Goyle whacked her bag off her shoulder.
A glimmer lit up Goyle's eyes when he saw the famous quill gracefully glide from her bag and flutter across the floor before it landed near his feet. The pale cream quill that had flecks of blue tinging the edges like it was caught in a puddle of oil, reflecting a rainbow.
His chubby fingers stretched down for the quill. It would be fun to have something no one else in the school had. Something that would make his school work a lot easier and cause (Y/n) and the golden trio to back down to Malfoy if they wanted it back for her.
He didn't get his fingers around the quill before a wand was suddenly thrust in his face, the end pressing up against his nose until his features started to ache.
"Touch it and you'll find yourself growing a tail."
There was a maddening kind of grin on Fred's face that told Goyle he wasn't being the joker he was known to be. He was being very serious, and it wasn't too far from the spells he and his brother had been concocting lately for him to find one to have a tail sprouting from Goyle's back end.
If that quill wasn't back in (Y/n)'s possession in the next five seconds, Fred's grin would spread wider across his features and a spell would fall from his lips.
Goyle's fingers twitched like he was caught in two minds about what to do. He didn't want to be seen as giving in, backing down to a Weasley. But he didn't want to be on the receiving end of one of the twin's jokes or new spells. They had been causing all sorts of havoc this week and Professor McGonnagal wasn't happy with either of them. That meant whatever they were doing could be dangerous if Goyle got on the wrong side of Fred today.
A hum of vindication left Fred's lips and he nodded his head with a smartening grin when Goyle grunted before he retreated. He didn't have Crab or Draco here to back him up, and being on his own didn't make him as threatening as he was when his pals were around.
Fred's index finger tapped away against the worn wood of his wand that scratched against his skin with each ridge and tiny splinter from how he wielded it with such carelessness from time to time. But he finally set the wand in his back pocket when Goyle was a safe enough distance away and the rest of the students started to wander off when they realised a fight wasn't about to break out after all.
When he seemed to realise that (Y/n)'s things were still strewn across the floor, Fred crouched down and gathered them up.
He was surprisingly careful with her papers, making sure they weren't creased or crumpled or folded when they went back into her bag. And his touch was light and tender when he scooped up her quill and set it deep into her bag so it wouldn't fall out again and no one would be able to try and pinch it.
Shivers coursed up and down (Y/n)'s skin when she felt his hand gliding up her arm until he set her bag back where it belonged on her shoulder. But still, his fingers lingered against her exposed neck and shoulder like their touch was magnetic and he didn't want to break the connection just yet.
"Thank you, Fred."
"It's George, but you're welcome."
"Nice try, Fredrick." (Y/n)'s voice was soft and she couldn't help the way she smiled. She tried her hardest to dampen the smile and loosen her features, but it just wouldn't happen.
She seemed to brighten up whenever Fred was around, he brought out that smile on her features without even trying and he only had to get a step closer and her heart would be hammering against her ribs so much it would hurt.
She knew it was Fred. There was no mistaking which twin she was talking to. Sometimes (Y/n) was sure that it was easier to decipher between them without actually seeing them. She knew teachers got confused, and a lot of students simply went along with whatever name the twins gave, whether they were being truthful or not.
They even teased their own mum who could almost certainly tell them apart at the best of times.
But (Y/n) knew. She knew the slight tweak in Fred's voice that George didn't have, like his throat was gritty or laced with something else. And she knew by the aura that Fred gave off and the reaction she had around him. (Y/n) didn't blush or go weak at the knees when she was around George. Sometimes she would go quiet around him, but he couldn't- and didn't try to- fluster her in the same way his twin did.
(Y/n)'s breathing changed when she felt Fred take a step closer to her. He wasthat cloe now that their chests were practically touching and (Y/n) could hear that shallow edge to each breath he took, as if he was the one who was flustered in this conversation.
No one else was around. (Y/n) couldn't even hear any distant footsteps suggesting that students were passing through the corridor. It was the end of the day, they would all be going for a walk or to study in the library or back to their common rooms for some rest. No one but them were lingering in the corridor like this.
"How'd you know it was me?" He murmured so softly that it sounded like he was singing to her. And when Fred dipped his head down, (Y/n) could feel his nose nudging hers and feel his breath fanning against her chapped lips.
It didn't matter how many times (Y/n) had answered this question, Fred always seemed to ask her.
He always wanted to know why (Y/n) could easily spot the difference between him and his twin when no one else managed it. And he usually got the same answer, which was why he kept asking.
"Your colour." (Y/n) sucked in a deep breath when Fred's lips ghosted so close to hers that they were one hairline fracture from touching. "No, I won't tell you what it is."
Although she couldn't see a hand waving in front of her face or see her classmates with the same eyes as they did, sometimes there was a flicker of colour before her eyes. Like a little piece of magic, exclusively for (Y/n) that no one else could ever see or hope to find.
Whenever Fred was around, there was a glimmer across (Y/n)'s vision, and he loved it. He loved that he had that aura that she could see, he loved to be one of the few things in this world that (Y/n) could distinctly make out with the one sense that had failed her.
She might not be able to see Fred's bright fiery hair or see his cheeky smile or the dimples near his cheeks. (Y/n) might not know what his appearance or body looked like, she might not see him towering over her or see the look in his eyes whenever he got to look down at her. But there was a colour about him that she could make out, and that was enough for Fred.
"Guess I'll have to tease it out of you then."
Fred had always teased her. His favourite game seemed to be flirting with (Y/n) and seeing how cheeky he could be before she would get too flustered and give up.
But he had never been this close.
Their lips had never been so close to touching before. Their noses had never brushed, their simmering cheeks never radiating heat this close to one another before.
(Y/n) was used to Fred leaning over her. The Weasley twins were tall like the rest of their older brothers, and Fred was always leaning down to talk to (Y/n) or whisper some joke in her ear just to see if she would blush and turn her head away in a fluster.
But the chance to hover over her like this, to be this close with no one else around and nothing in the way, this opportunity had never shown itself before.
And for all the wits (Y/n) prided herself on to make up for her lack of sight, she didn't forsee Fred's next move.
The touch of his fingers along her jawline sparked a fire within (Y/n)'s skin that rivalled all the hearths in Hogwarts put together. The feeling of Fred's hand fitting against the groove of her jawline was something better than any magic that could be cast.
And when his lips ghosted over hers, (Y/n) could of sworn she saw stars flashing through the colour that was Fred Weasley.
She wasn't quite sure what to do with her hands and she knew that if she didn't move in some way soon, she would implode and Fred would think he had made the wrong move. Her hands found their place over Fred's chest, fingers scrunching up in his vest that grounded her and stopped her from feeling like she was about to float away into space.
There was more power in her grip than she realised and she pulled until she almost toppled him over and made him lose his sense of balance. She felt his fingers tensing against her jaw while his other hand trodded the waters to curl around her hip. Binding her to him and securing his balance so he didn't topple her into the floor.
He was smiling.
There were thousands of times when Fred spoke that (Y/n) wondered if he was smiling- or if he was smiling at her, specifically. She wondered what his smile looked like, what it would feel like beneath her fingertips. If he had dimples in his cheeks when he smiled or how he looked when he laughed that rich, melodic sound that always had (Y/n) shivering and melting into a puddle.
Now she knew exactly how he looked and felt when he smiled. She could feel his wet lips spreading up at the corners and a little huff of air parted them and fluttered against hers.
When they finally broke apart, (Y/n) tried to keep her head inclined as close to Fred's as possible, even if it meant craning her neck up and having a crick in her neck afterwards.
She couldn't help herself, she just had to reach her hand up to cradle Fred's cheek which she found had a natural curve where the corner of his mouth widened as he smiled.
Her hand shifted down when Fred leant forward and kissed her temple, and she felt the deep sigh he exhaled when his lips touched her skin again, like he couldn't truly believe he'd worked up the courage to kiss her. Or that (Y/n) would be so thrilled and look up at him with those parted lips and cling to him with such desperation in her hands.
"Come on, before McGonnagal puts me in detention again."
Lingering in the halls wasn't against the rules, but it wouldn't do them any good to be caught here and if she knew what they were up to, she would certainly put Fred in detention. Although McGonnagal had a soft spot for the twins, she also loved to make a point and detention for flirting and fraternizing in the hallway would certainly make a big point indeed.
(Y/n)'s heart hammered away against her ribs when Fred took her hand. The action was so simple, so tender and casual as if it was something he did everyday. He interlaced their fingers like they were two pieces of a puzzle fitting together in perfect harmony. His large palm glued against hers and his thumb started to tap against the back of her hand while he led the way, presumably back towards the common room.
As they walked, (Y/n) carefully wrapped her left hand around Fred's exposed forearm, pulling gently until his limb was bound to her chest and their legs brushed with each step they took.
He found himself glancing down at her and a strange, quizzical look pulled a his features as he observed the look on (Y/n)'s face. And he knew she sensed him staring because her head tilted up until her hazy, unfocused eyes looked like they were trying to find his gaze.
"You've never guided me before." There was more that (Y/n) wanted to say, but she didn't need to. She understood now.
When she first came to Hogwarts with the rest of the first years, Ron had been her personal guide and he took pride and pleasure in it. Ron would offer his elbow to (Y/n) and he would walk around the school with her before (Y/n) ventured around on her own to truly find her bearings.
He would tell her what each classroom was, count the paces from the courtyard down to Hagrid's hut or the woods. He helped (Y/n) navigate the stairs and waited while she listened to the sound of the moving staircases so she could tell when one was close to step on or when it had moved.
And once or twice, George had stood behind (Y/n) with his hands on her shoulders so he could playfully weave her through the crowds at lunch in the great hall or when he tried to divert (Y/n) in a different direction and get her to cut class with them.
But never Fred.
He had never guided her before. He never offered her his elbow, much less his hand. And (Y/n) used to think it was because he liked to let her walk for herself and never presume that she needed any help. She thought that he would offer his elbow if she ever asked him for assistance.
Now she knew that Fred never tried to guide her before because he liked her.
Fred didn't want to overstep the boundaries he had tried to create. He was older than her, she was one of Ron's best friends. He didn't want to be that guy who got in the way or ruined his brother's friendships. And Fred didn't want to be the one to guide (Y/n) around when he knew that he would never want to let her go. Keeping at a distance had felt safest, until he made an off-hand flirtation with her and could never seem to stop himself from that moment on.
He stepped closer to her, he whispered jokes in her ear that he knew would make her blush. He fought with every part of his being to try and keep at a safe distance when (Y/n) was around, and he flirted with her because it was the only way he could be close to her and see her smile without anyone thinking he was getting too close.
Not anymore. Not when Fred could see that he didn't need those boundaries with (Y/n) when she wanted to be as close to him as he did to her. She was gripping his hand so tightly now that his circulation was about to be cut off, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
(Y/n) was finally holding his hand, and she never wanted him to let go.
***
Tilting her head to one side, (Y/n) let her cheek flop onto her palm while her elbow dug down into the Gryffindor table.
Her fork was idly tapping away against her dinner plate, but she wasn't very interested in eating tonight. She knew there would only be another five minutes left before the food plates disappeared and dessert trays would appear in the centre of the table. Not that (Y/n) would be very interested in those either.
She had an exam in Charms class tomorrow. Exams were always hard, especially when (Y/n) had to perform them in front of the rest of the class. No one could just go in a separate room with the professor and do the exam one on one. They had to perfect and show off their skills to the rest of the room and (Y/n) always managed to make a mistake somehow.
It didn't help that she had to wait and listen to gage whether the professor was pleased or not or if she had made a mistake.
Nerves were already starting to get the better of her and had stolen away her appetite.
Not to mention the fact that she wasn't sitting with any of her friends right now. Ron had turned up late to the dining hall and had to snag a seat at the very end of the table, (Y/n) heard him blundering in with muttered apologies and the very distant sound of him thumping down on the bench at the far side.
She didn't know where Harry and Hermione were, just that they weren't next to or near her as their voices were blended in with the rest of the Gryffindor table.
And to make it entirely unbearable, the only other people in her common room she really felt comfortable to sit with at meal times were the Weasley twins. And they were both in detention.
Snape had caught them setting off their new homemade fireworks in the boy's toilets, and decided straight after their class with him, they would remain for detention. They would be lucky if they got here in time for scraps, and (Y/n) knew they would both he starving and beyond frustrated when she finally saw them.
(Y/n) tried her best to drown out the conversations around her and drift off into her own world, trying to focus on the sound of her fork hitting her plate to distract herself or create a trance.
And she made sure that her head was angled down so it looked like she was staring into a secret abyss on her food plate. It had happened far too many times before where (Y/n) sat with her head up during meal times and whoever was sitting across the table from her felt weirded out like they thought she could secretly see right through them and was assessing them.
Letting her blank eyes roam where she knew her hands and plate were was so much easier than hearing people muttering about her or asking her to 'look somewhere else' before they realised the rudeness and complex in their request.
She wasn't sure what caught her attention first. Her mind had been on the verge of drifting off into frantic worries about tomorrow's exam so the beginning of Dumbledore's rather quiet speech didn't make it through (Y/n)'s ears.
"… but you are all perfectly safe here."
Oh dear. That didn't sound good, and somehow, (Y/n) wasn't sure she believed those words. Sure, Hogwarts was like a fortress in its own divine right, but it wasn't surrounded in a bubble that would keep each and every student safe.
Accidents happened, threats were still around corners and the wrong kind of wizards could still get in if they were determined enough. Magic had its price and came with a dark side.
"Prefects, please lead your houses back to the common rooms please."
If they were going back to their common rooms then that meant they would be on lock down of sorts. They wouldn't be allowed back out. They would all be huddled together because their common rooms had magical locks and being there would be an extra layer of protection against whatever had rattled Dumbledore and the rest of the professors.
(Y/n)'s back straightened up and her hands slammed against the edge of the table when the plates all vanished from the table. Dessert never came. Leftovers weren't scattered across plates. The great hall had been cleared away much earlier than expected, and they were all about to leave.
The chaos that ensued was out of control.
Voices so high-pitched and frantic that (Y/n) felt the need to cover her sensitive ears for protection so she didn't lose another one of her senses.
People rushing so quickly from the table that each bench shook and tremored and made (Y/n) feel like she was about to be caught up in an Earthquake. Could that be a possibility? Were they awaiting some kind of natural disaster, or a magical one? Was this something relatively ordinary, or a threat?
Then people started to push.
Arms flung in every direction. Bodies crushed together amidst the squabbling remarks of 'move' and 'hurry' and 'get out the way!'
There wasn't enough space between the house tables for everyone to start piling out towards the main doors, and there were far too many students all trying to leave at once.
(Y/n) coiled her arms to her chest and bowed her head, feeling her eyes snapping closed out of instinct when she felt people shoving and pushing to get past the bench she was still sitting on.
Ron had been closest to the doors, he would have been carried out by the wave of students hurrying to leave. So (Y/n) couldn't hope to find him and have him help her through the crowds. The twins weren't here. She didn't know where the girls were who she shared her dormitory room with and (Y/n) didn't particularly want them helping her when at least two of them were patronising and the other two barely spoke one word to her at the best of times.
And she couldn't hear Percy's voice anymore, he would be at the front of the Gryffindor queue line trying to get everyone to walk slower and be more organised and calm. He would be commanding the sea of panicked students.
With her hands now pressed against the table, (Y/n) pushed herself onto shaking feet and climbed over the bench. Her bag lay forgotten beneath the table, she could retrieve it later when all the fuss was over.
Both hands spread out in front of her but her arms shook when her fingertips brushed robes and fraying jumpers and sharp pointed shoulders in whichever direction she tried to reach. People were crowding round her, less than five feet away from her on either side, in every direction.
It was hard to walk through Hogwarts on a normal day and weave through the sea of students when she had to rely on her hearing and her sense of touch and awareness to know whereabouts the other students were and how close they had become. But this was impossible.
And (Y/n) normally had her own pace to walk where she could count her steps to pinpoint whereabouts she was. That wasn't possible.
(Y/n) could barely place one foot in front of the other with how close everyone was to her and how they were shoving and pushing at her. Her feet were barely lifting from the floor, she seemed to be shuffling along with other student's momentum surging her forwards.
She didn't like this at all.
Her left leg kept catching along the benches and one particular jolt to her knee sent her leg spasming and had a hiss falling from her lips.
With each of her senses overloaded, (Y/n) could barely pick up on a few tid-bits of conversation that she tried to piece together to find out what was happening. No one seemed to know what the problem was, but there was a lot of speculating going on. Hushed whispers, frantic yells, piercing voices and screeches and even a few taunting voices trying to scare the first years.
"It could be Dementors, they've breached the school before."
"Trolls?"
"Do you know how many magical creatures live in the woods surrounding this place?"
"We're under attack!"
"Don't be silly, this is just some kind of drill or a test."
(Y/n) wasn't sure she believed anything she heard around her, only the unanimous sense of panic was all she could rely on and believe right now. But it didn't really matter to (Y/n) what was happening, all that mattered was getting out of this disaster and finding her way back to the common room without injury.
"Fred…" His name fell from her lips like the most delicate spell in the world that she didn't want to mis-cast.
She wanted Fred. Finding him was the most important thing on her mind right now and it seemed like the best thing to do. (Y/n) wanted his hand in hers, his tall, looming presence beside her to calm her down and guide her through this mess.
Her body started to lean to the left and she allowed herself to bash into benches that were pushed out into the walkway. Most students curving around them and avoiding them whereas (Y/n) surged straight into them and clambered around them, trying not to break her stride despite the amount of bruises she was surely going to have after this comotion.
And when she felt like she was on the edge of the crowd, (Y/n) didn't think twice and she didn't care who looked. She stretched her arm out in front of her.
It didn't matter if holding her hand out made (Y/n) seem like a child or made her look helpless. She always swore growing up that she would never be helpless, she was a witch for Goodness sake, how helpless could she be with a wand and a world of knowledge inside her mind?
She didn't want to be someone people took pity on and she never wanted to be that image, that poster child with their hands out waiting to be saved and guided.
But right now, she wanted to find Fred. (Y/n) lifted her head and made sure her eyes were open, ready for when that flash of colour flooded her otherwise darkened sight. Waiting for that beacon of hope to appear before her and take her hand and be her eyes.
Her steps slowed down until she wasn't shuffling anymore, but she wasn't really walking either. She was plodding, barely taking one proper step every five or ten seconds. She was deliberately falling behind in the sea of people and she didn't care if that made them push and shove her even more.
As long as they didn't knock into her arm or think she wanted their help and took her hand instead of Fred. But even in a panic, no one seemed to be that selfless and caring enough to take (Y/n)'s hand and offer her help she didn't truly want. No one took that liberty and for once, (Y/n) was glad of their selfishness.
"Please… Fred…"
All the squabbling voices faded out in comparison to (Y/n)'s heartbeat that was thundering in her ears along with the feeling of her pulse vibrating beneath every inch of her skin.
She was sure that she was getting closer and closer to the doors of the great hall, but with everyone pushing and flooding in the same path, (Y/n) couldn't be sure where she was. It only became clear that she had been swept out of the hall when the voices changed from loud echoes to softer vibrations. The ceiling was lower in the rest of the castle than in the great hall, it didn't echo or dance as high everywhere else.
There was more space for (Y/n) to stumble to one side now they weren't all in the hall fighting to be the first ones to leave. (Y/n) spread her feet apart and tried to make herself taller and sturdy so she wouldn't be knocked down or swept away again. But people were still crowding round and pushing her in every direction.
For a brief moment, (Y/n) could have sworn she heard Ron's voice calling out for her. She was sure he was asking someone where she was as if it had just dawned on him that this wasn't a good situation for someone who couldn't see to get through the panic.
She turned to the left as if trying to follow the sound of his voice, but it had gone as soon as it appeared, and instinct was pulling (Y/n) to the right and causing her to turn on her heels.
Her right arm remained stretched out in front of her, fingers tickling and dancing through the frozen air that caused the hairs on her arm to stand on end.
Ever since Fred kissed her last month, (Y/n) felt like her hand had never been empty since.
Whenever he was around her, Fred's hand was in hers. Sometimes just to comfort them both, other times because he wanted her to be as close to his side as possible. And on the occasions when he walked her to class or tried to pull her into a secluded corner, Fred would take her hand so he could weave her through the crowds. Ever her faithful guide in the darkness.
"Oh!"
(Y/n)'s entire body ignited with electricity and warmth and she felt like a droplet of magic buzzing in the crisp evening air when an all-too familiar hand finally clasped onto hers.
Long, slender fingers weaved between the grooves of her fingers and soft pads pressed down on the back of her hand like a cape dawning over her. A warm, slightly damp palm suctioned against hers and with a little tug, (Y/n)'s arm was securely pinned beneath a pointed elbow and pressed up against a thin but slender chest.
Fred.
"I gotcha." His voice turned all other background noise to static in (Y/n)'s mind and she could feel tears threatening to fall when his lips pressed a chaste kiss to her burning temple.
He'd found her. That flash of colour swept through the darkness and ignited everything else around (Y/n) and she didn't need to see to know that Fred was smiling.
"Come on, love."
It felt like an eternity had passed when really, their little moment had been captured within just three little seconds. (Y/n) didn't realise they were moving until the toes of her shoes started to scuff against the stone floor and she realised they were gliding and weaving through the crowds of students like everyone else were just ghosts in comparison to them.
She heard Fred murmur "Watch your step," and when he straightened his back and leant his elbow into her side, (Y/n) stopped.
She paused and lifted her foot higher than a normal step would call for, waving her foot until she felt the first step of the stairs beneath her shoe.
Fred knew that (Y/n) wouldn't have been able to count her steps in all the commotion. He knew her sense of direction had been skewed by the chaos and by him turning up out of the blue and he wouldn't have her tripping or falling over because of him trying to guide her.
Him and George had been so certain that they would miss their dinner when Snape gave them detention, and something told Fred that if this emergency hadn't occurred then the pair of them would still be in the classroom until late tonight. It was a blessing and a curse that Dementors had been spotted around the school tonight.
The sightings got Fred and George out of detention, but they still missed their food and they would be huddled up in the common room for the rest of the night with other panicking students.
The only bright side Fred had was that he would be with (Y/n) during most of it; and he had managed to find her.
It felt like someone had reached into his ribcage and physically tore his heart from his chest when he left the classroom and saw everyone stumbling, running, pushing and crashing down to try and get up the stairs. There was a commotion when the staircases changed direction and students almost fell over the edge with how they were shoving each other in haste.
Fred didn't want to think of (Y/n) being caught up in any of that. He didn't want to imagine her being knocked down in the crowd or pushed or set off balance and distorted about her surroundings.
And when he weaved- and possibly shoved- his way through the crowds in search for her, it seemed to elate and break his heart at the same time to find (Y/n) with her hand reaching out for him.
(Y/n) slumped her head against Fred's bicep and finally closed her eyes. She didn't have to try and scout out that one bit of colour in an otherwise darkened world. He had found her. His hand was periodically squeezing hers, his frame was towering over her like a guardian and he led her without making it totally obvious.
When they reached the top of the stairs, Fred would tug on her wrist towards the right if the stairs were moving in that direction or he would nudge his elbow into her waist to signal for her to get ready to step to the left.
And (Y/n) followed his movements and directions because when she walked- or rather rushed like they were now- with Fred, she didn't have to think. She didn't have to count her steps and take precious time gaging the staircases to find her way back to the common room.
Finally, they landed on the staircase that was secured in place, the one which led up to their common room where gravity would have a proper hold over them once again.
A brief flutter of anxiety flooded (Y/n)'s chest when Fred's fingers loosened from hers and his touch was gone, but not for long.
He wove his left arm around her waist, his hand splayed out on her hip while he tugged until (Y/n) was pulled in front of him and he bound both arms tight around her middle. His chest merged up against her back and when Fred tilted his head down, his lips glued against the top of her head.
There were still students trying to pile through the portrait to get into the common room and Fred didn't want to be swept through and have his hand torn from (Y/n)'s. He would rather have her in front of him so he could elbow and push people who might try and rush past them or shove them. This way Fred could make sure (Y/n) walked at her own pace without being rushed.
They walked in tandem towards the open portrait and (Y/n) could feel the rush of air that signified it was open. She didn't have to reach her hands out to trace for the painting or the edge of the frame to make sure she was at the right common room entrance. She didn't have to say the password and feel around to climb inside.
Her hands curled delicately around Fred's wrists, using him for balance as they both climbed up and headed through the corridor.
The hustle and bustle, the panic and paranoia and loud voices finally droned down when they were in the common room.
And with Fred right behind her walking in tandem, it didn't matter that dozens of other students were crowding around the main room, distorting (Y/n)'s perception and the image of the room she had built in her mind.
Usually she would use furniture to guide her, but there were too many other students around for her to gage where she was going or where anything was. But it didn't matter when Fred was steering her forwards, pressing his elbows out to nudge people out of their path until he reached the large hearth fireplace on the right side of the room.
(Y/n) wasn't quite sure what Fred was doing when he turned them around, but when his hands slid down to her hips and she felt him crouching down, she got the picture.
He was sitting on the carpet in front of the roaring fire, seeing as though there were no more chairs or sofas available to them.
He kept a grip on her hips while (Y/n) felt for his knees and used them as leverage to find the floor. She sat down between his thighs and dipped her head back until it was resting on Fred's shoulder, with her back leaning up against his chest.
Fred smothered his lips against the side of her temple and his arms went back to binding around her middle with his knees pressing gently into her thighs like he was caging her in, ensuring she didn't move an inch away from him for any reason.
Although his lips parted from her skin and he rose a brow, looking down at her when (Y/n) angled her head up more in his direction like she wanted his attention.
"Thanks, for finding me." Her voice was quiet and she tried to hide the hint of embarrassment she felt at the thought of what would of happened if Fred didn't get to her.
Would she have found her way back to the common room? Of course she would, eventually, but it might have taken a while with all the confusion and commotion. She wouldn't have felt very good about it if she had to get here on her own without knowing whether Fred was there already or if he was alright or even knew what was going on.
She didn't have to see to know that a grin was spreading across his face. She could sense it, almost the same as she could see that little ounce of colour he gave off that no one else did.
"Always."
