A/n: I don’t know if I like this. It’s a little artsy fartsy. But alas here it is. Maybe you’ll like it.
“Does he feel like home?” Asks Ginny.
You tilt your head slightly confused. “I’ve heard that when you’re with the right person it feels like home.” She adds to further elaborate.
You nod a little indicating you understand her question. You then shift in your seat to face her properly. You’re silent for a bit, thinking of how you wish to answer. “I don’t know if I would say that’s true.” You finally say.
Ginny’s eyes widen, surprised by your response. She awaits for you to elaborate, now on the edge of her seat, aching with curiosity.
“I have never associated home to a physical place. In that sense I suppose I agree.” You hesitate unsure how to express it in words. “I try to build a home inside myself. I have a bedroom where I can refuge when I feel sad, an office where I can work when I need to be productive, a kitchen where I can dance when I’m happy. I have different places I can go depending on how I feel.” You pause for a moment, suddenly feeling vulnerable.
Ginny nods for you to continue, seemingly interested. You take a deep breath before starting up again. “But with Fred, it’s different then with others. Usually my home does not welcome visitors. I normally lock it with a key and keep it closed off from everyone. I sort of worry that others would tear down my home.” You chuckle nervously, the transparency with which you speak is frightening. A part of you is screaming to stop and close all the windows and doors in your home.
Then you think of Fred. Suddenly your heart swells and it feels like a warm breeze is flowing through your windows. It’s fresh, calming and grounding. It convinces you that maybe telling Ginny won’t be so bad after all. “But Fred-“ it’s a almost a whisper. The truth feels so precious and fragile you’re almost scared to say it. “He’s the first person I’d be happy to share my home with. I’d let him use my purple velvet couch when he wants to cry, my bathtub when he wants to relax, my attic when he wants to play. I’d dance with him in the kitchen, I’d even share my hammock in my backyard where I normally go to be happy alone. ” Your eyes had drifted from Ginny’s intense gaze to your hands fidgeting in your lap. Your vision goes a little blurry as you suddenly realize how strongly you feel for Fred.
You’re not the type of person to talk much about your relationship and you notice it’s not even something you think of that much. You’ve always just told yourself you’re happy and that’s all the matters. Stopping to think of how Fred makes you feel was like finally letting free a bird in a cage. It was liberating, invigorating and enchanting. You think that maybe you’ll create a new room in your home. A room that you and Fred can share. A room full of cozy blankets, happy memories in picture frames and a guitar to serenade each other, a room full of love.
A tear rolls down your cheek and drops onto the hem of your shirt, leaving a wet splotch. You quickly wipe at your eyes as you start laughing. It comes as both a surprise to you and to Ginny. Once you finally look up at her, she is wiping away her own tears. You smile sweetly to one another. “You really do love him, don’t you?” She stuns looking at you with admiration. You start laughing as more tears fall from your eyes. Your chest swells with happiness. “Yes-“ you choke. After a couple sniffles and more shared laughs between you and Ginny, you add, “I really do.”
Description: Fred and the reader’s relationship seen through a series of favours
Warnings: its kind of angsty, brief description of injury (umbridge’s detention related) briefly battle of hogwarts related, miscommunication i guess
Tag-List : new form is here for anyone interested in being added
~* Fifth Year *~
“Do me a favour?”
It’s a question (Y/N) has been practicing internally for at least an hour, yet her voice still wobbles as she asks it aloud. Fred, lying back in the grass, soaking in the late summer sun, peeks open one eye to look up at her with a questioning brow.
“Yeah?”
“K-kiss me?”
A second passes before he reacts, sitting bolt upright in an instant, choking slightly on the gasped breath taken in the process. Regret floods her chest with a mortified ache and she finds herself dropping her eyes to the ground and picking at tufts of grass nervously.
“What?”
“It doesn’t matter,” She mumbles, “It’s stupid.”
“Kiss you?” He repeats, “L-like on the lips?”
“I shouldn’t have asked,” She argues embarrassedly, “I was just- I haven’t- it doesn’t matter.”
He blinks at her, confusion pulling his brows into a frown. Confused is probably the only word he can come up with to explain the whole thing, because quite frankly, it’s not everyday your childhood best friend asks you to kiss them. Then, much to (Y/N)’s further mortification, realisation flickers across his face.
“You’ve never kissed anyone?”
He asks it like he’s surprised, something that only goes to confuse (Y/N) herself. Yet she nods, too obviously embarrassed to even attempt to play it off as some elaborate joke or simply fib her way out of it.
“Really?” Fred asks, “And you want me to be your first kiss?”
“I just want it out the way,” She explains hastily, “Don’t go getting big headed about it… it’s just a favour.”
He’s silent, the most silent she’s ever heard him before even, and it does nothing but add to her growing concern that in one fell swoop, she’s managed to ruin sixteen years of friendship. She’s on the verge of what is bound to be an incoherent string of apologies when he finally answers.
“Okay.”
Her breath catches with something between relief and sheer panic.
“Really?”
“What sort of friend would I be if I denied you such a simple favour?”
‘Simple’ is perhaps an underestimation of what she’s asking, and she can see the nervous way he licks his lips despite the grin he throws on instantly to disguise it. She’s gotten this far though, too far to chicken out now with his warm hand cupping one of her cheeks as he leans closer.
The sun has brought out millions of freckles across his pale cheeks, and for the first time she’s so close she could count them. Part of her, a side of her she’s never met before, thinks about tracing her finger across them, connecting them like constellations. Something in her chest twitches at the thought.
“You ready?”
“Don’t make it sound so clinical,” She mumbles.
“Listen, beggars can’t be choosers.”
She smiles, glad for the familiarity of his teasing. It has some of her nerves dissipating, her lungs expanding with a light, freeing breath before she nods.
He’s tentative for only a moment, their lips meeting in the lightest of kisses until she’s instinctively pulling him closer, fingers curled around a handful of his gryffindor tie. He lets out a surprised sound from deep in his throat, though he doesn’t pull back.
In fact, if he knew kissing his best friend might feel this good, he wouldn’t have asked so many questions before doing so in the first place. At the feeling of her grip slipping from his tie, he feels his heart dropping disappointedly, chasing her lips subconsciously as she pulls back.
He watches her contemplative expression, a good distraction from the racing of his heart in his chest and the unexplainable urge to kiss her again. She gives him a wide-eyed look, eyes darting in every direction as she navigates whatever millions of questions are running around her head.
Then, she clears her throat, nodding as she begins to get to her feet and leaving him dazed on the grass with reddening cheeks.
“Thanks,” She says, “I owe you one.”
~ *Sixth Year* ~
“(Y/N),” Fred exclaims happily, portrait door swinging shut behind him as (Y/N) looks up from her book to meet him with a frown, “Just who I was looking for,”
“That’s never good,” She says, slowly closing her book, “When am I busting you out of detention this time?”
“You wound me,” He retorts before dropping onto the couch beside her with, pressing the back of his hand against his forehead with a dramatic flair, “Me? Detention?”
His head lands haphazardly on her lap and she looks down at him with an amused look, shaking her head in teasing disbelief. His lips twitch into a grin, one that (Y/N) knows is just the beginning of what she doubts will be a simple request.
“Do me a favour?”
For a split second, she freezes, a slight shiver crawling up her back at the question, which little under a year ago saw them kissing by the lake. He holds her eyes in a knowing gaze that causes her to nod cautiously.
“Okay…”
“Come to the ball with me?”
Her brows lift into a surprised expression.
“What?”
“The Yule Ball,” He explains, sitting up now to face her properly, “I need a date.”
She gives him a long, questioning, look, searching for some tell-tale signs of a Fred Weasley joke in the makings. Sceptically, she narrows her eyes.
“Why?”
“You owe me one.”
She bristles imperceptibly, gulping at the knowing look that swims in eyes and twitches the corners of his lips into a small smirk.
“That and I left it all a bit last minute, you see,”
She can’t quite decide whether it’s hurt or relief that tugs at her chest at the revelation, that he’s only asking as a last resort. It’s a much more simple version of the scenario she’s been building in her head since he first asked his question, one with far less feelings to get more attached to.
“What if I’ve already said yes to someone else?”
“Well, I have it on good authority that you’ve been turning people down for weeks now,” He raises a brow, “What’s that about? Holding onto hope of being asked by someone special?”
The teasing tone he’s going for comes out strained in a way (Y/N) has never heard from him before and she frowns for a second at it before rolling her eyes.
“No, I’m not,” She answers, “I just didn’t feel like going with them.”
“So, what you’re saying is that you don’t have a date?” He says, “And neither do I… how convenient.”
She lets out a short scoff, shaking her head in disbelief at the pleading puppy-dog look he’s managed to perfect in just a few seconds. She exhales a loud reluctant sigh that has the corners of his mouth pulling into a smile.
“Is that a yes?”
“Hmm,” She nods, “I guess,”
“How romantic.”
“Ah well, as a wise boy once said, beggars can’t be choosers.” She manages a smirk of her own, “Perhaps next time you’ll find yourself a date sooner than a week before the dance.”
Something in Fred’s face drops for only a split second, and not even their years of friendship helps her read it. It’s only a moment before he’s disguising it again with a lopsided grin and a playful shove.
“Shut up,”
~* Seventh Year *~
Fred’s finger tips are warm as they trace the red-raw words scratched into the back of (Y/N)’s hand, lookin from it up to her eyes with a look she knows means a lecture. She sniffles slightly, twisting away from him to plan her counter argument.
“Before you say anything,” She starts, “Your hand is just as bad so don’t start on my detentions.”
“I wasn’t going... “ He sighs, “Well, I was, but you’re right. I’m just trying to figure out how to get the pink hag back for it.”
“Don’t do anything stupid... I’m fine.”
Fred let’s put a disagreeing grumble.
“Fred,” She says warningly.
“I know,” He breathes out reluctantly, “I just worry when it’s you.”
She turns back to face him, hoping to catch whatever expression has followed such a revelation, but she’s too late, finding him instead twisting away from her to search through his bedside table drawer. He returns with a small jar of healing balm, what she’d come to his dorm for in the first place, or at least that’s what she’s telling herself.
“What happened this time?”
“I missed curfew again,” (Y/N) mumbles, hissing in a breath when the balm touches the open wound, “I was at the library trying to teach myself the bloody defence course since she won’t- ouch.”
“Done,” He assures with a soft smile, “Wuss.”
“It’s not that when you’re the injured one,” She teases, though she’s not feeling quite up to it, “I can’t believe this is how we’re spending our last year.”
“I know.”
She’s not sure what’s causing the tears that have welled in her eyes though, certainly not from the sting of the healing balm or even the general pain from the scar itself. Yet she can’t help the tears that have begun to fall from her lashes and slip down her cheeks.
“Hey-” Fred looks up, brown eyes wide in surprise, “What’s going on?”
“Take your time,” Fred says, rubbing soothingly at her back, “It’s okay,”
“It’s all just a bit much isn’t it.” She manages after a moment, “Newts are hard enough but now w-we’ve got this absolute psychopath of a defence teacher who doesn’t actually teach, we’re training to fight deatheaters and- it’s just a bit much.”
“I know what you mean,” He admits solemnly, “It’s pretty messed up.”
“Sorry, it’s stupid.” She shakes her head, “Everyones going through the same thing-”
“Don’t do that.” He frowns, “That doesn’t mean you don’t get to be upset about it, (Y/N).”
“I know but-”
She hears him click his tongue against his teeth disapprovingly, and she can picture him rolling his eyes though she doesn’t have time to see for herself, not with his arm around her shoulder as he curls her into his chest.
She freezes, as if this is something bizarre, as if they’ve not shared hugs a million times growing up. This is protective though, like in his arms, for even just a moment, he’s protecting her from everything wrong in the world.
“Fred?” She sniffles against his chest, “Do me a favour?”
“Anything, (Y/N).”
“Just- just hold me for a bit.”
His breath catches, heat blossoming in his chest as he pulls her closer, running his fingers through her hair in a soothing motion.
“Of course.”
~* Post-Hogwarts*~
“Do me a favour?”
(Y/N), seconds from falling asleep, fit perfectly between Fred and the back of the sofa, peers up at him with bleary eyes and soft smile.
“Of course.” She exhales tiredly.
“Be with me.”
She freezes, replaying it over and over in her head, not entirely sure she’s not dreaming. At her silence, he lets out a sharp noise that sends a jolt of panic into her body, waking her up well and truly. She lets out a choked sound as his arms unravel from her waist and a chill hits her as he begins to pull back.
“What?”
“It’s late-” He begins to backtrack.”I’ve got to open up shop tomorro-”
“What did you just say, Fred?”
He gives her a look that's almost pained.
“Don’t make me say it again.” He pleads, “Let’s just forget about it-”
“You… You like me?”
He lets out a sound close to a pained laugh that lodges itself in his throat as he twists awkwardly away from her. A deep crimson colour has begun to creep up his neck and he pulls nervously at his shirt collar in a meek attempt to combat it.
“I’ve not been very subtle, (Y/N).”
“Clearly you have!” (Y/N) bursts, only shrinking with the realisation that, just down the hall, George is sleeping in his room. “Since when?”
“Since you kissed me,” He exclaims exasperatedly, “Favour bloody one.”
She stands, suddenly hit by the need to pace, to move around as she deals with all the questions that race through her head. Gulping, Fred watches her move, suddenly afraid that he’s made this favour their last.
Then, she comes to a stop.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Excuse me?”
“An idiot,” (Y/N) repeats, “You made me feel like the last resort for the yule ball, but you’re telling me that was serious?”
“Hey,” He frowns, “It was serious right until you started giving me this look like I was insane and I had to cover my arse somehow-”
“Shut up,”
She drops herself onto his lap, cupping his cheeks in her hands and holding his face there, inches from her own. He watches, frozen in awe, as her eyes dance across his face. She’s tracing his freckles again, close enough to be mesmerised all over again.
“Since we’re pretty terrible with signals,” She exhales, “When I kiss you now… it’s not just a favour.”
“Thank Merlin for that.”
~* The Battle of Hogwarts*~
Hogwarts has never felt so different.
Standing here now, it’s hard for (Y/N) to imagine these are the same hallways they once walked down, that she and Fred used to sneak through in the dark for midnight snacks and linger outside of before teachers arrived.
Tucked into an alcove of the corridor, Fred and (Y/N) watch the havoc unfolding, keenly aware of what lies ahead, the war that’s been looming over them all year. He holds her hand in his own, squeezing it as reassuringly as he can manage as she chews nervously on her bottom lip.
“It’s going to be okay, right?”
“Of course, Love,” He smiles, lifting a hand to gently caress her cheek, “We’ll be fine.”
She nods, melting into his warm touch. But nothing eases the weight that has settled on her chest, the anxious feeling that is telling her everything is about to go wrong. She searches his eyes for something familiar to cling onto.
“I don’t like us not sticking together,” Fred admits quietly, “We should be where we can keep an eye on each other.”
“I promised Madam Pomfrey I’d help with the injured,” (Y/N) admits sadly, “And you should be with George.”
“I know,” He breathes, “I just don’t like it,”
She smiles sadly in agreement.
“Me either,” She admits, “but I’ll be fine… I’ve always had better defence marks than you anyway,”
Much to (Y/N)’s relief, Fred laughs, bringing back a sense of normality, even if just for a moment. The hand on her cheeks pinches her playfully and his brown eyes roll with a teasing glint to them.
“Look at you, joking in a crisis,” He teases, “I’m so proud,”
“I’ve known you long enough to have picked up some sort of ill-timed sense of humour,”
He lets out a short chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I love you, (Y/N),”
“I love you too,”
He leans in to capture her lips in a gentle kiss, a practiced art that has a well-known warmth flooding (Y/N)’s chest. Yet, as he pulls back, he leaves something bitter sweet behind, the ache of a goodbye kiss.
“I should go,” He admits, “Before we end up caught up in the crowds, right?”
“Yeah,”
“I’ll see you once it’s all over,” He grins, “When we’ve won,”
It takes a moment for (Y/N) to convince herself to let go of his hand and feels suddenly cold once it’s gone. He’s turning away with one last wave when she calls him back, heart hammering in her chest.
prompt: being a teacher’s assistant at a local college, you are assigned to a philosophy professor who is notorious for being young, cocky, and undeniably handsome. does his arrogance get in the way of you getting or job done? or is it his looks?
pairing: professor! fred x teacher’s assistant! reader
warnings: typically frowned upon relationships (oopsie i love forbidden romances that are legal and consentual mwah), language, food, drinking, alcohol
word count: 15k (I am so sorry I really couldn’t help myself)
author’s note: there won’t be a direct part two of this, but you can bet ur sweet booty that i will be writing more prof!fred in this universe because he’s just so HNNNGG
“It’s so nice to see another young face here,” a blonde haired girls sighs next to you as you swipe your ID card to enter the university building for your first official day of work. “I thought I was going to be the only new TA here,” she confides in you as your shoes click down the corridor as you make your way through the halls.
You flash her a comforting smile, “Same here. But I think there’s more of us on the way. Besides, we’re relatively early.”
As a last year graduate student, you needed to be a teaching assistant in order to get your degree and finish your course requirements. It wasn’t an opportunity you were thrilled about, but it would give you hands on teaching experience in a university setting that could be very valuable. That was, if you had the right professor.
“I’m Luna, by the way,” the girl next to you chimes as she fixes the strap of her purse, offering you her hand to shake, gladly accepting it. “I’m a TA for Women and Gender Studies,” she adds proudly.
“I’m (Y/N),” you smile, “TA for Philosophy.” Luna looks impressed as you tell her about your area of study, making you laugh. “I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds. I quite like it, actually. Just hoping the professor I’m assisting is a good one,” you nervously speak, turning the corner to walk to the Dean’s office.
Luna shakes her head, “I hear you. It’s definitely nerve wracking, but Hogwarts University has some of the top rated professors in the country, so I really don’t think we’ll have many problems in that department.”
You suck in a deep breath as you nod. The university was quite prestigious, you were shocked when you were informed you would be assisting here, but honored nonetheless. However, there was still a pool of nerves that swam around in your stomach as you thought about the professor you would be assisting. You could have a someone who was so knowledgeable in your field of study or someone who was a complete ass. It was a dice roll. “One can only hope,” you sigh before arriving in front of the Dean’s door, placing three knocks on the wooden door.
The door swings open to reveal a happy looking man, brown hair combed back and a toothy grin on his face. He wore houndstooth pants with a white button down tucked in and a neatly tied bow tie around his neck, matching the color pattern of his pants. His face glowed with excitement as he beamed, “Ms. Lovegood, Miss (Y/L/N), so glad to finally have you with us!” You and Luna offered him a warm smile in return as he opened his office door wider for the two of you to enter. “Welcome to Hogwarts! I’m Dean Longbottom, but you two can just call me Neville,” he smiles as he sits behind his desk adorned with small succulents and stationary. “I’ve been anticipating your arrival along with the other teaching assistants for awhile. It’s so nice that we have such a large pool of you for this semester. The professors are quite lucky to get quite a brilliant bunch like you,” he compliments.
“Speaking on behalf of all the TAs, I think I can confidently say we feel honored to be here,” Luna smiles softly as the dean chuckles and you nod.
Neville nods his head, “We are honored to have you.” You and Luna thank him before he begins again, “So, the two of you have some time before you are reporting to your classrooms for lecture. How about I give you the tour of the campus? A proper Hogwarts welcome?”
You and Luna excitedly agree and Dean Longbottom starts to walk you through the hallways of the beautiful university. The university had once been castle during the Gothic era, still maintaining the same structure. Beautiful hallways, paintings of founders hung in the walls, windows adorned with stained glass as sunlight seeped through. “The dining hall is on the left over here,” Neville gestures, revealing a large room lined with tables, school flags hanging high as students varying in year gather to chat and eat. “And if you look ahead, you’ll find the campus courtyard. It’s beautiful this time of year with the flowers in full bloom,” Neville smiles to himself. “Across the street are the campuses houses. Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Syltherins, and Hufflepuffs,” he points as you see tall houses, coated in paint of their respective colors. “I myself was a Gryffindor when I was a student,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you and Luna. “Other than that, I think that concludes the tour. Here are your staff lanyards and your professor assignments have been forwarded to you in your emails. There’s still some time left before lecture, so feel free to hang around campus or in the staff lounge. If you need anything, please, don’t hesitate. I’ll see you two very soon!” he waves before disappearing down the hall.
In this moment, you take the time to look around the hall to see the bustling student body, smiling and laughing as they make their way down the halls. You softly smile to yourself, reminiscing about when you were an undergraduate. A freshman in the halls, excited for university. Now, you were nearly done with graduate school, soon to be a certified professor. Time had flown by in the blink of an eye.
“You want to take a peak in the staff lounge?” Luna disturbs your thoughts.
Turning to her, you give her a smile and a nod before walking up the stairs three levels to reach the staff lounge. Inside were a few professors scattered here and there, but mostly there were TAs. The room radiated buzzing nervous energy as red lanyards signifying TA status hung around a few necks. One of the boys sitting at the table spotted the red lanyard and spoke cooly, “You’ve found the right place.”
He rose from his chair and walked over to you and Luna with a shocking amount of confidence. His jet black hair was gelled back neatly, a crisp light blue button up and handsome tie clung on his neck as he stuck out a hand for you to shake. “Name’s Harry,” he proudly shook your hand. “I was a TA here two years ago, now in charge of the TA program and coordinator for the math department. You two look new. Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just I could sense it,” he laughs.
“(Y/N),” you shake his hand firmly as he smiles. Luna does the same with a small smile. “You’re right about the new part. It’s both our first semesters here,” you confirm.
Harry nods and walks back to his chair, leaning back, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Nice. What’s your area of focus?” he asks.
Luna grabs a seat and speaks, “Women and Gender Studies. You by any chance know a Ginevra Weasley? She’ll be the professor I’m assisting this semester.”
Harry lets out a chuckle before an unfamiliar voice speaks up, “Oh, Potter is familiar here with Ms. Ginevra Weasley. That’s his fiancé.” You turn around to face a smirking face as he sips on his piping cup of black coffee. “I’m Seamus Finnegan. Head TA for the chemistry department,” he introduces. “You’ve lucked out,” he tells Luna. “Ginny is the best in the department. She’s a hard ass, but you’ll learn a lot from her.”
Luna smiles to herself, “Very excited to get started then.”
“What about you?” Harry nods to you as Seamus slides into a seat next to Harry. “Area of study?”
“Philosophy,” you reply cooly. Seamus gives you an impressed look as Harry smiles lightly. “Specifically Ethics,” you add on. “I’m assisting another Weasley, actually?” you look at Luna. “Are they by any chance related?” you ask Harry and Seamus.
The two of them just chuckle as Harry sighs, “Yeah, the whole family basically teaches here. You’ll learn fast. They all got jobs at the same time since their father is on the board of directors. All of them deserve to be here though. Brilliant professors, all of them.”
You let out a sigh of relief that you didn’t realize you were holding in. Confirmation that you had a more than capable professor was good news.
Seamus continues on Harry’s tangent. “Basically one in each department,” he shrugs. “Ginny is a women and gender studies professor, Percy is the head of the business department, Charles is in the vet school, Bill is an adjunct professor now, but he’s in the language department with a focus in French, Ron is the European History professor and by the looks of it, he’ll be the head of the department next year, George is the chemistry professor I assist, and then there’s Fred w-”
“That’s the one,” you interrupt. “He’s the one I’m assisting this semester. How’s he? Do you have any intel that could help a new bee out?” you ask hopefully with a glimmer of jest in your voice. But the look on Harry and Seamus’ faces make your stomach do a flip. They look at each other knowingly as Seamus lets out a small chuckle. He mutters a small yikes before sipping on his coffee and excuses himself from the table to go attend his lecture with George. “What was that look about? Is he a lazy professor?” you groan.
Harry lightly laughs and shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck. “Fred Weasley is a great professor, no need to worry about that. He’s just...how do I put this without getting fired?” he whispers the last bit to himself as your eyes widen and you lean in closer with a what?, making Harry shake his head. “It’s not bad, I swear, he’s not like...unstable or anything. He’s just very cocky. Fred is good at his job and he knows it. He doesn’t let anyone forget it. He’s been ranked top professor at the school for the past three years and wears it like a badge of honor.”
Great, a cocky professor. A narcissist. Just what you needed when starting a job that could determine the fate of your career. You sigh and flop back in your chair as Luna gives you a sympathetic look. “Bloody brilliant,” you huff.
“He’s a great professor though!” Harry tries to make light of the conversation. “Fred has been teaching straight out of university, so he knows what he’s doing. Students really admire him and his lectures are some of the best that I’ve seen. He knows how to have fun in the class, but he doesn’t take any bullshit,” Harry reassures you as you give him a weak nod. It was nice to hear that he was at least respected and admired by the students. Maybe you could learn to do the same.
Luna takes a look at her watch and gives you a nudge. “It’s twenty minutes until the new lecture block. Reckon we should introduce ourselves to our professors?” she asks as you sigh with a reluctant nod. After that bit of information you just received, you were less excited to meet your professor. “It was nice meeting you, Harry,” she beams to Harry as you two rise from your seats.
“Lovely meeting you two. I’m sure I’ll catch you around in the halls,” he winks friendly before you both exit the staff lounge.
Nervously, you played with the cuffs of your turtleneck, walking down the halls, parting with Luna, wishing the other good luck in their first lecture. As you strolled the hallway of the fifth floor, searching from room 523 where Philosophical Ethics would take place. You wondered how he would look. Old, no doubt. Harry said he’s been teaching since he graduated which had to mean he was in his late forties. Was he a cranky old white man? Great. Just fantastic. He probably had the traditional way of teaching which meant he sat at the front of the classroom and spoke at the class for three hours. Your worst nightmare. How could someone ruin something you loved?
You stumble upon the wooden door with golden paint etched into it 523. With a confident inhalation, you push the door open and enter the classroom, neatly set up for the next lecture. Three rows of eight, one next to the other. In the front of the classroom was a large chalkboard with the words Welcome to Ethics written in sloppy handwriting. Gently, there was soft jazz music playing from a small speaker, filling the classroom, saxophone and trumpet melodies echoing. Everything looked normal. Except for who sat at the desk.
At the front of the classroom, sitting at a dark brown desk was a tall, lean young man with tuffs of orange hair styled back. He wore a freshly ironed white button down that was tucked neatly into a pair of chestnut corduroys with matching brown chukka boots. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, showing off his muscular biceps and toned arms. A shiny silver Rolex watch was strapped on his left wrist as he tapped a pen against his desk. But you couldn’t get over how young he was. The youth in his face was lively as his dark chocolate eyes scanned over a paper in front of him. Your presence was unknown to him as he continued to flip through papers, dragging his pen across the margins.
Politely, you clear your throat, causing him to look up from his paper, looking up at you. When his eyes landed on yours, you gulped thickly. His whole face was undeniably attractive. His angled jaw, full lips, soft eyes. He gave you a confused look. “Lecture isn’t for another twenty minutes,” he told you before looking back down at his paper, almost dismissing you. “But feel free to have your choice in seat. I hope you don’t mind the music. Let me know if it’s distracting,” he tells you before flipping the pages again.
You inhale deeply. “Actually, Professor Weasley, I’m (Y/N),” you introduce yourself. Professor Weasley looks up at you with confused eyes, trying to put together your identity. “Your TA for the semester?” you speak with a small smile. “I’m very excited to get started with you.”
But before you can ask him what you could do to help set up the classroom, he speaks, “I didn’t ask for a TA.”
His words take you aback for a moment. Instead of an introduction or even a simple hello, he told you he didn’t ask for a TA. “I beg your pardon?” you ask with almost a laugh.
“I didn’t ask for a TA. I don’t need one,” he clarifies to you, rising from his desk as you gulp, taking in how tall he was, standing proudly above you. “I’ve never needed a TA in the past, and I don’t know who decided I needed one this year. After being voted best professor since I got here, I don’t understand why this is the year I need one,” he laughs, making his way around the desk, leaning against it, tucking his hands in his pockets.
You give him a disturbed look. Harry telling you that Fred Weasley was cocky was a damn understatement. The bloody guy was telling you to your face that you weren’t wanted or needed here. That he could do his job perfectly fine without you. “I’m sure you don’t need one, Professor, but this was my assignment. Dean Longbottom assigned me here and I’m just following what I was told to do in order to get my degree,” you tell him, trying to remain cool and polite when you’d rather tell him to suck it up and deal with it.
Fred run his fingers through his hair before placing them on either side of his body, leaning back into his desk, tongue pressed against his cheek. His biceps flexed underneath his tight white shirt, making you gulp, trying not to get distracted at the fact that your professor was not only a dick, but an incredibly handsome one. “Neville assigned you?” he laughed. “Alright. Well, I’ll go down to office and get this sorted away,” he huffed before standing up straight.
But before he could take a step further, you stopped him, now getting frustrated that this guy didn’t even try being nice to you. “Hold on,” you stopped him, fixing the strap of your purse on your shoulder before placing it on the desk next to you. “This job was assigned to me. There are no other TA positions available in the philosophy department this late in the game. I’m not gonna lose this job just because you allegedly don’t need a TA,” you try to keep cool, but the venom leaks out every now and then.
Fred gives you a light chuckle before speaking, “Not allegedly. I don’t need one. There’s a reason why I’m one of the most successful and youngest professors. I can run this class by myself without some grad student’s help.”
Now, you are pissed. “Alright, you know what?” you fold your arms over your chest. “I don’t appreciate being spoken to like this. I’ve worked very hard to get where I am and I will be respected. Regardless if I am a TA, or a student, or a co-worker. I am here to do a job and I will do that job no matter what anyone says,” you tell him as he just stares at you, a cocky smirk on his face that makes your blood boil. It was like he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying. “So how about we save ourselves the dramatics and just be satisfied with the fact that this is the situation?”
Fred just exhales and rubs hand over his face. You could tell he didn’t want you here, and quite frankly, you didn’t want to be here either after his little stunt. You were quite sure he was capable of running his own class, but you weren’t here to take his job. You were here to be an assistant to his teaching, being there to support and help him. This was a requirement for you, not a pastime. “Alright then,” he eventually states, making the way back to his desk. “You can grab a desk from the rows and bring it up to the front, I guess,” he huffs as you remain standing with your arms still folded across your chest.
He looks up and gives you a look. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” you ask with venom pouring from your glossed lips as you give him a sarcastic smile.
Fred gives you a sarcastic smile back as he drops his pen and speaks, “Fred Weasley. MA in Philosophy and Human Ethics. Cambridge Graduate. Cum laude.” The pride dripped from his voice as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “And you are?”
You wanted to throw your shoe at his head, your blood was boiling at how arrogant and prideful this man was. “If you were listening before, you would know my name is (Y/N). MA in Philosophy and Human Ethics. University of Oxford. 3.98 GPA,” you mimic him.
Fred gives out a chuckle as you grab your purse and start to settle yourself in the room. “Oxford student? Fitting that our universities are rivals,” he huffs before pulling a desk and chair over for you, placing it near his desk.
“And why would that be?” you ask sarcastically as Fred bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to snap a snarky response back at you. “Listen, Fred, I’m just here to do my job and do it well. I’m not here to step on your toes. I’m here to finish my requirements so I can get certified,” you tell him as you stand beside your desk, smoothing out your plaid skirt that your turtleneck was tucked neatly into.
As you stand there, Fred’s eyes rake up and down your body, taking you in as a whole. The first time he’s done this since you walked in. His eyes are like magnets, scanning every inch of your body and how you carry yourself so confidently in the space. When his eyes reach yours, you inhale deeply, trying to prevent the heat from rising to your cheeks as your handsome superior checks you out. “I’m not worried about you, darling,” his thick accent coos. “You’re the least of my worries.”
Just as the words slip out of his mouth, students start to file into the classroom, greeting Fred with good mornings and how are you’s. You tell yourself to calm down, to remain friendly, and cool. As the students file in, Fred greets them all with a warm smile. “Welcome back everyone. This is Philosophical Ethics with Professor Weasley. You all can call me Professor, Professor Weasley, Fred, Professor Fred. Just not Freddie, that one is reserved for my mum,” he teases, earning a few chuckles from the class. He glances over to you with a small stare and begrudgingly introduces you, “This is (Y/N), my TA for the semester. She will be here with us for...?”
“The whole semester,” you remind him with a sweet smile contrasted by your daggers for eyes. “Looking forward to working with you all,” you tell the class with a warm smile, receiving a few back in return.
Fred sighs, “Right. Well, anyway, let’s take roll and then get right into things, yeah?” The class nods as you sigh. “Alright, who can talk to me about Nietzsche?”
This was going to be a long semester.
Three hours of the class went by at a sluggish pace. Not to mention, Fred didn’t extent an invitation for your opinion or thoughts during the lesson. You didn’t expect him to let you teach the class, but instead, you just sat and listened to him run the class.
Although he didn’t let you say much, you had to admit that his lecture was quite good. He led the class in a really interesting way, almost like a Socratic seminar type. He let his students make observations and create open dialogues about the philosophy you were covering. Fred encouraged student’s thoughts rather than shut them down and he tried to encourage everyone to participate to make sure everyone said what they wanted to say. But you, he didn’t extend that offer.
Instead, you took notes. Notes on Fred Weasley. The way he spoke with his hands, how he sloppily wrote on the board with chalk, underlining words, circling, and drawing small diagrams. How he folded his arms across his chest when someone brought up a provocative thought. How he nibbled on his bottom lip when a student asked him a question. How he glanced over at you every once in awhile, catching your eye and smirking when he caught you looking at him. You would roll your eyes and continue to scribble down his mannerisms, what he focused on in class, and how he conducted it.
The students ate up everything that fell from his lips. It was like magic, the way he could capture 20 students attention about something as niche as existentialism. But you couldn’t lie, Fred Weasley was captivating.
“Okay, for next week’s class read Nicomachean Ethics and start drawing comparisons and differences between Aristotle and Nietzsche,” Fred announces as he closes his book and dismisses his students for the day, a chorus of thank you’s and have a good day’s echo in the classroom.
The final student exits as Fred retires back to his desk, sorting papers and filing away miscellaneous papers. You click your pen as you watch him, waiting for him to break the silence. But instead he sits at his desk and starts scribbling into his planner. With a sigh, you break the silence and speak, “You give a really informative lecture. You engage with the students really well.”
You thought a compliment would be a peace offering. An olive branch of sorts. But Fred took it as an opportunity to dig into you. “I know. That’s why it’s a full class and I’ve got a waitlist 30 kids long,” he speaks without looking up at his desk.
The guy was cocky as all hell and he was letting you soak it all in. The grip on your pen grows tighter as you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth in irritation, trying to maintain a steady facade. “So,” you breathe out as you grab your bag, pulling your notebook from your back. “You want to talk about lesson plans? I see that you’ve assigned Aristotle for the next week and a half. Maybe a smooth transition would be going into Kant and talking about the categorical imperative?” you suggest, sitting on a desk in front of Fred’s.
He peers up at you through his lashes, your legs dangling from the desk. He gives you all of his attention as he pushes his sleeves further up his arms, fiddling with the lock on his Rolex. “I’ve already taken care of the lesson plans for the rest of the semester. It’s all planned out. It has been since last month,” he explains to you as you nod your head, thinking he would offer something else for you to do.
“Okay,” you trail off. “Is there...anything you want me to do? Coordinate office hours? Set up my own as well so I can be a resource to the students. I can give you my phone number and email to put on the syllabus, so the students know they can reach out to me if they have any questions,” you tell him as you start to scribble down your email and number.
But Fred shakes his head, “Won’t be necessary. If a student needs you, they’ll come to you. Besides, they should really come to me if they need anything since I have more knowledge about the course.”
His passive comments were starting to pile up on you as you inhale deeply, your chest heaving. The turtleneck around your body felt very warm as anger started to bubble in your chest. “Maybe if you told me about the course, I could be a valuable resource to students. Remember, I’m just as qualified as you. I just haven’t graduated yet,” you remind Fred as you lean back on the desk, legs swinging back and forth as Fred starts to pack up his briefcase.
“Yet,” he looks up at you with a smirk, pink lips curled upwards as he leans over his desk, gathering his things. Even though the smirk was condescending as all hell, it did something to you. In more than one way. It made anger gather in your chest, frustration tingle in your temples, but butterflies pitter patter away deep in your stomach.
“So what exactly do you want me to do?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest as Fred grabs his jacket with one hand, his briefcase in the other as he does a once over his desk.
Calmly, Fred speaks, “You can start by filing away those papers on my desk and then once that’s done, make a list of the students in grade point average order. I want to know who needs the most help and who is fine on their own.” After he gives you that direction, he starts for the door.
With a scoff, you hop down from the desk. “And you’re just going to leave?” you laugh at him as he place his hand on the door with a shrug. “You know I am a teaching assistant. Not your personal assistant,” you spit at him.
Fred swings the door open and stands there with a smile. “Teaching is more than just standing front of a room as talking out of your ass, dear,” he tells you as the nickname makes you bite your tongue from yelling at him.
“You really are arrogant, you know that?” you sneer at him with your hands on your hips, glaring at him. You stare at him as he stands in front of the open door, jacket laid over his forearm, leather briefcase in hand, his other hand combing through his fire red hair.
Fred smiles lightly to you before sighing, “I’m bloody brilliant, (Y/N). You would be arrogant, too.” His words make you shake your head with a scoff. “Sort those papers for me, won’t you? I’ll see you tomorrow in here. Early. 9am sharp.”
But before you can ask him why, he’s out the door and calling after another professor, leaving you alone to your own devices. You let out a frustrated groan as you cover your face with your hands. Of course, you got stuck with the prick professor who takes advantage of an extra set of hands. You walk over to his desk and see a small stack of papers to be sorted and filed away along with the list he wanted you to organize.
You plop yourself into the desk seat and carefully start going through each file, examining each student’s credentials, organizing them by GPA and last name. You note who could be a tutor and who needs a tutor, who is at exit level, who is at entry level, so on and so forth. The task was interesting, but so time consuming. It was a way you could start to learn more about your students, even if it was through paper.
It had been an hour and a half and you were on your last file when you hear a gentle knock at the door. Slowly, it creaks open to reveal Luna and Harry together. Luna carries two lattes in her hand and smiles, extending her arm out to give it to you. “You are a saint, you know that?” you laugh as you accept the warm, caffeinated beverage.
“You’re still working?” she asks in disbelief as you finalize some last notes in the margins of one student’s file. “But class ended almost two hours ago.”
You look up at the both of them. “Oh, I know. But Fred left after the lecture and insisted I do the filing and note taking whilst he got to leave on time,” you speak through gritted teeth, finishing scribbling your last note and flopping the pen down, leaning back in the desk chair with a huff. “You weren’t lying when you told me he’s a self-righteous fuck,” you talk to Harry.
Harry laughs and digs his hands into his pockets with a huff. “Well, I didn’t use those words,” he laughs as you give him a look through your mascara coated lashes. He gives you a sorry sigh and leans over the desk, “Fred is a great guy one on one, but as a professor...he just likes having reign over his classroom. It’s not just you. His last TA was three years ago and he made the kid miserable. The kid, Dean Thomas, was so sick of philosophy after he switched to psychology. Now he’s a first year professor.” You roll your eyes and push yourself out of the desk, grabbing your purse and notebooks, piling them all in as Harry continues. “What happened today?”
Recounting the moments of the day made you frustrated, but you allowed yourself to vent to your co-workers. “Well, when I walked in, he thought I was a student,” you speak as Harry and Luna give you an apologetic look, Harry muttering an ouch. “Oh, that’s not even the worst part. Then I told him I was a TA and he told me he didn’t need one, because he’s more than capable of running his own classroom,” you mimic his pompous attitude. “He had the gall to threaten me to go to Neville’s office and find me a replacement class! I mean, sure, he’s a great professor, but that doesn’t mean he’s the only good one in this bloody school!” you exclaim, frustrated failing your arms, earning a small chuckle from Harry and Luna. “I’m sorry, I’m just very frustrated that this is how my first day on the job went,” you run your fingers through your hair, shaking your head.
“No need to apologize,” Luna walks over and touches your shoulder gently. “He sounds...unpleasant...” she tries to be as cordial as possible, earning a giggle from you. “But maybe you’ll warm up to each other? It’s only the first day. We have a whole semester ahead of us,” she looks between you and Harry cheerfully. In a weird way, her light, happy tone made you feel a little better.
You sigh, “I guess so. Ugh, a whole semester with Fred Weasley...”
The three of you start out of the classroom and start to make your way down the halls, retiring to the staff parking lot and bus stops. But before you can make your way to the public transportation, Harry suggests, “Hey, a few of us are headed to the bar to grab a drink before headed home. Do you both fancy coming?”
Luna perks up and shakes her head with an eager yes please. The idea of grabbing drinks sounded great and just what you needed after this gruesome day. But the looming thought of having to get up early and meet Fred in the classroom tomorrow at nine sharp hung over you like a storm cloud. With a sigh, you speak, “Wish I could. But Fred is making me meet him at nine to talk about lesson plans or something. Last thing I need is showing up hungover to my second day on the job.”
Harry and Luna groan in protest. “Oh, come on! You can’t let Fred rob you of your autonomy!” Luna stomps her foot and grabs your hand. “One drink won’t hurt! We’ll both have one pint and then I’ll take the bus back with you. We’re only one stop away from each other on the blue line,” she tries to convince you.
Harry starts dancing backwards to his car as he beeps it open. “I’ve got an extra seat,” he sing songs as he opens up the door for you.
A small smile creeps up on your face as you sigh. One drink couldn’t hurt. Just one cheeky little drink and then home away you would go. The night was still young, so you’d still be in bed at a reasonable hour. One drink. “You guys suck,” you laugh as you start walking to Harry’s car as Luna claps her hands in glee and Harry triumphantly punches the air, making you laugh.
-------
The morning sun creeps through your window, making you groan and roll over. The sunlight hurt your eyes and made your stomach churn as a headache pounds through your cranium, making you feel sick. “Bloody hell,” you whisper as you sit up and rub your eyes.
You slowly start to remember the events of last night and everyone there. It was all the TAs, including some of the younger professors. You met another Weasley, Ron you think. The history professor. Absolutely nothing like Fred. He was charming and goofy in a lovable way as he sat next to his wife, Hermione, a classical literature professor, an arm draped over her shoulders. Seamus was also there along with a few other chemistry TAs as they sat at a high rise table, pointing and whispering about the business professors and TAs who sat all the way in the back, drinking scotch and making mild chatter.
“No bother meeting them,” Seamus told you as you sipped on a gin and tonic. “The business professors and TAs are all little shits. The one with the blonde hair is Draco Malfoy. He thinks he’s better than everyone because he got his PhD, but everyone knows his dad paid off the university to give him the doctorate. His TAs all kiss his ass to get in his good graces. Zabini, Nott, Goyle, all of them,” he groans before taking a long sip of his ale, making you laugh.
You had tried to tell yourself that you would only stay for one drink, but then you started yourself in conversation with the other TAs about undergrad and grad school, realizing the mutual friends you had with each other. And then, you found yourself being convinced by Ron to do a green tea shot with him as he toasted to all of the new TAs of the semester. And with that, one drink became six.
With a groan, you slump yourself up in your small studio apartment and rub your temples. As the sunlight leaked in through your white linen curtains, you check the clock. The hands pointed to 8:25am which made you gasp and rise to your feet. “Motherfucker,” you huff to yourself as you run to the bathroom. You had to meet Fred at 9 and it already took you twenty minutes to get to campus which left you with virtually no time to get ready. “Shit, shit, shit,” you turn on the shower quickly, running to your closet to grab a fresh pair of plaid pants and a jumper. “I’m so dead,” you whisper to yourself as you scramble to get ready.
You frantically rub soap all over your body with one hand and brush your teeth with the other, needing to freshen up after a long night out. The shower was cold and unpleasant as you shivered before hoping out and throwing your clothes on, opting to skip a full face of makeup and just pop on tinted moisturizer and lip balm.
Checking the clock again, it was 8:35 and you groan in frustration. “I am a fucking moron,” you curse at yourself, grabbing your purse and notebooks and pens and papers, trying to get yourself organized before racing out the door to catch the bus. You run to your pantry to grab a granola bar as your phone starts buzzing on your nightstand. “Who the fuck is it?!” you scream as if your phone could hear you.
Stomping over, you grab it and see it was Harry calling you. “I’m kinda rushing to get out the door, Potter, make it quick, what’s up?” you babble as you slip your shoes in your Oxfords, lacing them up quickly.
Harry chuckles over the line. “I figured as much. You were a bit of a mess last night,” he tells you as you groan. “I’m only teasing you. But that being said, I’m passing your street in like two minutes, do you wanna catch a ride instead of betting on the bus?” he offers.
You sigh the biggest sigh of relief as you immediately respond. “Harry, you are a life saver,” you huff as Harry laughs. “I’ll be downstairs in a hot second. I just need to grab my coat and keys,” you tell him before hanging up.
Someone had your back today and sent Harry Potter to you. Rushing over to your coat rack, you grab your trench coat and your keys, doing a once over of your apartment, making sure you had everything, turned off all the lights and faucets. With a confident sigh, you exit your apartment, lock the door, and rush down the stairs.
As expected, Harry sat in his car with a ginger haired woman in the passenger seat. You give him an exhausted smile as you open the back seat and slide in. “Morning,” he chimes as you shut the door and buckle your seatbelt. “How are we feeling?”
You give him a knowing look. “Fuck off,” you grumble as he laughs. “I can’t believe I let myself get carried away like that last night.” You never let yourself loose track of time like that; you felt so irresponsible. “If you didn’t call me, I would surely have my ass handed to me by Fred today.”
“Fred?” the woman in the passenger seat chimes in. “Are you the poor TA who has to deal with my brother this semester?” she asks as you sigh and nod. “Good God, I apologize on his behalf. He can be a dick sometimes. I’m Ginny by the way.”
She turns to you, offering her hand to shake as you gladly accept it. “The women and gender studies professor, right?” you ask as she proudly nods. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m (Y/N), philosophy,” you tell her with a smile. “You and Harry are engaged, if I remember correctly?”
Ginny smiles happily and flashes you her engagement ring. “Just recently, yeah,” she confirms with an admiring look to Harry as he drives down the road, a small smile on his lips. “We met when we were both TAs and have been together since,” she recounts with a smile. “Enough of that though, how are you finding Hogwarts so far? With exception of my bothersome older brother,” she reframes the question.
“So far, so good,” you tell her honestly. The staff at the university was class. Everyone was so warm and welcoming and made you feel at home instantly. “I think last night I also met your brother, Ron. He kept handing out shots to the new TAs,” you recall as the pang in your head agrees.
Ginny rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s him. Ron likes to mess with the new bees every year,” she speaks. “Here, take this,” she hands you a piece of spearmint gum and a tube of mascara. “It’ll make you feel better, trust me,” she winks as you thank her. “Harry should have given you a heads up on that one,” she elbows him.
Harry shakes his head, “Ron has been my best mate since grad school, I’m not revealing his tricks to anyone no matter how good of a friend they are.” And with that, Harry pulls into the staff parking lot of Hogwarts as the time reads on the dashboard 8:55am. 5 minutes to spare.
As Harry puts the car in park, you unbuckle yourself and say, “I hate to rush out like this, but I quite literally have to dash to get to this meeting with Fred on time. Ginny, it was lovely meeting you. Harry, I owe you one. Thanks so much for the ride,” you slide out of the car as you dash towards the school.
“You can buy me a round of drinks!” he teases after you as you shake your head, dashing through the halls of Hogwarts to get to classroom 523.
You dart in between students as you run up the stairs, purse in hand, hair flowing as you make a mad dash. Finally, you reach the classroom and push the door open to reveal no one in the room. “Seriously?” you huff out of breath. You just ran here for no reason. Fred was no where to be found. But after closer inspection, there was a small sticky note on the chalkboard that read be back in ten. You huff and throw your bag down, walking around the classroom, trying to distract yourself from your throbbing headache.
The classroom is neatly decorated, plants here and there, the windows open to draw in fresh air as you inhale deeply. Then you remember from yesterday. There was a small speaker by Fred’s desk, connected to the desktop on his desk. You walk over and press the power button, making the speak bleep on with a blue flashing light. You press play and see what was on the queue. Soft jazz music starts playing, specifically Frank Sinatra’s I’ve Got You Under My Skin. You smile to yourself, how fitting.
As the jazz music echos lightly, you allow yourself to sway gently to the music, smiling to yourself. The song reminds you of working late in the library when you were in school, listening to music to maintain your focus. You hum the melody to yourself, dancing around the classroom, looking at the bookshelves, letting your fingers trace down their backbones. You allow yourself to start softly singing the lyrics as the tempo picks up, swaying back and forth as you pluck a book from the shelf, scanning it’s contents.
The song picks up, the brass section wailing as you dance around, reading the first few pages of a random book from Fred’s collection. You continue to sing out loud, a little off key as you smile to yourself. In this moment, you were content, regardless of how gross you felt. “’Cause I’ve got you under my skin,” you sang gently as you continued to dance back and forth, cradling the book in your arms.
But you are pulled from your day dream when a voice speaks, “You’re a fan of old blue eyes?” You let out a light squeal as you see Fred standing there, watching you with a small smirk on his mouth, holding two coffees in his hand.
You place a hand over your heart, monitoring how it thuds against your chest from being startled. You looked at Fred and sighed. He stood there, in a light tan khakis, crispy white shirt with a maroon tie hanging from his neck. A pair of square glasses sat on the bridge of his nose as his chocolate brown eyes peered at yours through them. “Sorry you had to see that,” you chuckle. “Sinatra is one of my favorites.”
Fred chuckles, “No need to apologize. Frank is one of the greats.” He walks over to you and hands you a coffee as you tuck the book in your hands under one of your arms. “Figured you’d need one of these,” he refers to the coffee. “TAs usually have quite the night out of the first day of work,” he recalls with a small smile. Was he...being friendly? But before you could ask how he knew you went out, he answered, “Ron is my brother. I know his ways. Because he learned them from me.” You laugh and shake your head. “I don’t know how you take your coffee, but I assumed a latte with an extra shot would suffice?”
You give him a soft smile, “Yeah, that’s perfect. Thanks so much. I appreciate it.” Fred nods and sits as his desk with a huff, pulling himself close to the desk. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
Fred pulls his glasses off of his face and twirls them in between his fingers as you watch the glasses spin around and around. “I wanted to talk about expectations for the class and for you,” he speaks as you nod and take a sip of your warm latte that almost instantly helps with your headache. “I...I realize that we may have not gotten off to the best start yesterday...and I apologize for my behavior,” he speak as you nod.
An apology was a good start. “You’re forgiven,” you simply state.
“Thank you,” he adds before rubbing a hand over his lips. “As for the class, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. This class is a prestigious course. One of the harder ones in the department. That being said, I think it’s best for me to have the reigns on the class and lead class lectures. You are free to observe and aid in answering questions about assignments or papers,” he tells you as he leans back in his chair, thinking he made a reasonable bargain. But it was quite the opposite.
You weren’t here to sit around and listen to another philosophy professor spew a scripted lecture. You did that for four years in undergraduate school. You were here to learn how to teach a classroom, how to run a lesson plan, how to gain hands on experience. Being a puppet in the corner was not going to accomplish any of those things. “Fred, I appreciate the apology. But this offer is not acceptable,” you state calmly. “I’m your teaching assistant. I’m here to help in any way I can, of course, but I’m also here to help teach and instruct the class. You are suppose to help me learn how to teach the class.”
Fred nods, “And you can do that by matters of observation.”
His way of brushing you off made you infuriated again, just like yesterday. Did he do this to everyone? “But don’t you think it would be more helpful for me to have some actual hands on experience? Like actually teaching the class?” you tell him more than ask him.
He rises from his chair and sighs, “I don’t need you creating a new lesson plan. I’ve been using this one since I got here and it works. If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.” Fred walks over to the board and writes in bold letters, Aristotle, preparing for today’s lecture. The way that he so nonchalantly stated that to you and started writing on the board as if he didn’t insult your intelligence made you infuriated.
“You’re a fucking prick,” you flat out spew. You wish you could take it back, you really did. As soon as the words left your lips, you regretted what you had said to him. Insulting your superior was surefire to get you fired and released from your job, making you ineligible to graduate. But damn did it feel good to say.
Fred turns around to look at you, eyebrows furrows as if you just spoke in a foreign language to him. “I’m a fucking prick?” he repeats, folding his arms across his chest, leaning back on the chalkboard, crossing his legs as you stand in front of him, completely enraged, fists tight next to your sides. “Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that,” he laughs, combing his fingers through his hair, as if what you said was a compliment.
“Well the people who said it before were right! You’re cocky and arrogant and self-righteous and pompous and self-absorbed. You clearly have no intention of helping anyone but yourself! That’s probably why you like being a professor! So everyone listens to every last bit you say,” you start to ramble. Now that you had said what was on your mind, it was almost impossible to stop. The words flew off your tongue like a jet.
Boldly, Fred pushes himself off the chalkboard, hands dug into his pant’s pockets as he walks closer to you. A small smirk dances along his lips as his tongue darts out and drags across his lower lip. The action makes your breath hitch in your throat as you mentally curse yourself, wanting to be annoyed with him, but yet you found yourself aroused. “Keep going,” he urges. “Go on. Tell me how unbearable I am. You’ve only known me twenty four hours, but it seems like you have me all figured out,” he speaks, just a foot away from your body.
Adrenaline is coursing through your veins, your lips slightly parted as you take heaving breaths, making your chest rise and fall quickly. Fred’s eyes scan your face, soaking in your annoyed and confused expression. You suddenly become very aware of how close he is to you and you shake your head, taking a step back. “I only need a day to know an asshole when I see one,” you simply state, folding your arms over your chest. Your expression reads as if it were Fred’s turn to take a dig at you.
Fred chuckles lowly before speaking, “Here’s your problem, darling.” The endearing terms makes your stomach curdle. “You don’t get the hands on experience your second day on the job. You’ve gotta prove to me that you can run a class and keep their attention for three hours. You think it’s easy keeping the attention of a bunch of twenty year olds when you’re talking about philosophy? It’s not as easy as you may think it is,” Fred explain as you roll your eyes. “I was in your shoes once before, so I know what you’re experiencing.”
You laugh, “Oh, don’t pull that card. You’re a professor now. You did your time in my shoes. Don’t pretend like you’d give anything to go back.”
“Oh, honey, you couldn’t pay me enough to go back!” Fred retorts, now with an edge. “You know what. I could let you run today’s class,” he chuckles at the thought. “I could let you run it and watch you crash and fucking burn,” he emphasizes with a shrug. “I could watch those students trample all over you, you know why?” he asks looking at you intently as you gulp. “Because they don’t respect you! They don’t know who you are. In fact, they see you as one of them! If I mistook you as one of them on the first day, then what made you think they wouldn’t?” he asks as you inhale deeply. “Respect is earned when you are in a position of authority. Even if you’re just a professor. And you, (Y/N), haven’t earned that yet from the students. And I honestly don’t know if you have it from me.”
And with that last dig, the first student enters the classroom signaling that the first lecture of the day was ready to begin. Fred and you don’t acknowledge the student, just staring at each other. Fred’s words stung. Like a fresh wound, you were bleeding out. His words were sad, but true. You were a TA, but you were still a grad student. Fred worked to get to the position he was at. You just needed to prove to him that you were capable of handling yourself in a classroom setting as a teaching assistant.
You retreat back to your desk at the front of the room and sit down with a small huff, pulling out the attendance sheet, marking students as present as they enter the classroom.
Fred rubbed his hands over his face, feeling guilty for his out burst. He knew you were brilliant. To be quite honest, Fred knew he was going to get a TA. He had checked out your academic profile, seeing that you graduated undergrad with a nearly perfect grade point average and extra circulars that were sure to blow any one away. Your thesis statement made Fred laugh to himself, it was similar to his own when he was in university; the effect of utilitarianism on free will in our post-modern society. In a weird way, you reminded Fred of himself. Confident, smart, and ballsy. But where you differentiated with Fred is your adaptability. How you could adjust and go with the flow, that was Fred’s downfall.
Soon the classroom was full of students again and Fred took a deep breath, trying to regain his focus and composure to teach the class. He didn’t dare look at you, it would just make him upset. And you didn’t want to look at him. Fred sat on his desk, his long legs almost hitting the floor even when he sat. “Hello everyone,” he addressed the class, some students chiming back. “Let’s get started for the day. Shall we?” he claps his hands together. “Who can talk to me about eudaemonia?” he asks the class.
You looked out at the classroom along with Fred, anticipating a slew of hands but instead you got nothing. Students sat in their chairs in silence, some twiddling their pens, others scribbling in a notebook, some still groggy this during the ten o’clock lecture. “Someone’s gotta know about it. Come on then,” Fred probes the class as they remain silence, only sound is some kid yawning in the back. Fred allows the class to remain silent for a moment. “Alright,” he huffs. “Rough morning for a lot of us,” he speaks, hoping to catch your attention with that line, but you scribble nonsense into the margins of your notebook. “Maybe (Y/N) could give us a definition?” he suggests.
Your head shoots up like a rocket from your paper as you look at Fred with panic in your eyes. He looks at you with a small smile and encouragement, almost as if this were his way of making amends. A twisted way. You look towards the class and see twenty sets of eyes on you as you gulp before shaking away your nerves. “Um, yeah,” you clear your throat. “Eudaemonia is the greatest good, the aim for all human thinking and rational. Another word for eudaemonia is happiness,” you simply state, making the students start scribbling in their notebooks. Pride swells in your chest as you realize what you was valuable to the students. “Eudaemonia is achieve through action in tandem with the human soul and psyche. When eudaemonia is at its highest form, it is known as virtue,” you explain further as the class continues to scribble down what you were saying.
Slowly, you look towards Fred who gives you a small smile and a nod as you just give him a curt nod and turn back to your desk. But when you look away, it’s hard to cover up the small smile on your lips as you fiddle with the pen in your hands. Fred notices your grin as smiles to himself before speaking, “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Maybe today would be better than yesterday.
--------
Another two weeks had gone by and the work relationship you had with Fred improved significantly. He let you interject at certain points in his lectures, let you pose questions to the class, and even assigned you students for office hours. Finally, you started to feel like you were doing what you came here for and you were loving every moment of it.
Fred was a great professor and an even better mentor. He commanded a classroom unlike any other professor you have ever seen. He spoke with confidence and coolness and the students ate him up. It must be rewarding for him, watching students love his work as much as he did. You would watch him with a small smile as you jotted down notes here and there. Fred would catch your eye every now and then in class and gave you a small smile or cheeky wink that made your heart stop every now and then as you turned away from him, biting the inside of your cheek to make you stop smiling.
“Remember to finish Kant’s Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals for tomorrow’s class! If you haven’t turned in your paper on Nicomachean Ethics yet, do it by 4pm or else I will personally send (Y/N) to find you and hunt you down,” he teases the class as you roll your eyes, making the class laugh. “Happy Friday. Now scram,” Fred dismisses class as students file out.
When the majority of them have dispersed, you walk over to Fred’s desk and huff, “Good lecture today. Katie brought up some good questions about the differences between hypothetical imperatives and categorical imperatives.” Fred leans back in his desk chair, flopping his notebook down on his desk.
“Yeah, she did. But god, I wanted to punch Brian in the face. He kept talking over her while she was saying something poignant. I get it, Brian, there are different formulations, but damn, shut the fuck up,” Fred groans, making you laugh as you grab your bag and get ready to pack up for the day. “So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news...” he trails off as he rises from his seat.
You groan and throw your head back as you spin on your heels to face him. “Please, don’t tell me...” you start as Fred nods his head sadly. “Come on, Fred. It’s Friday night! Beginning of the weekend! All of the TAs are getting drinks at the pub tonight and quite honestly, I’d rather be doing that than grading philosophy papers,” you whine to him.
Fred mockingly places and hand over his heart and speaks, “First off, I am offended that you don’t want to spend time with me grading papers on the brilliance of Aristotle through a twenty year olds eyes.” The comment makes you chuckle, but he pushes on, “But I want to grade this papers tonight and finish them tonight so I, well we, can have the weekend free. You can get drinks any other night with the TAs. But we’ve got to do this tonight.”
You stomp your foot in frustration like a toddler, making Fred chuckle as he places his glasses on his face. “But tonight it’s dollar drafts! Dollar drafts happen once a week!” you beg him. “Why can’t we grade tomorrow?”
“Because I need to put these grades into my grade book before the students start wondering if they’ll ever be graded for something in this class,” he explains. “How about this?” he proposes. “We meet back here at 4:30pm. I’ll get take out for the both of us and we can drink coffee and energy drinks like we’re back in undergrad cramming for an exam. It’ll be fun,” he shimmies his shoulder making you giggle.
With a huff, you say, “Fine. But if we’re here past midnight, I’ll never forgive you.”
You start out of the classroom as Fred calls after you, “It’ll be fun!”
Shaking your head down, you start down the hall and see Harry and Luna talking as they leave their respective classrooms. “Heyo,” Harry calls out to you before slinging an arm around your shoulder. “So, for dollar drafts tonight we were just gonna take a cab there at around 5:00. Ron is going to be late because he’s going to wait for Hermione to get out of her night class and they’ll come together. But Seamus, Luna, Cho, and I will all be there and I think Dean said he’s coming and bringing some friends from grad school. It should be a great time,” Harry explains with a big grin.
Your ‘fomo’ was kicking in hard core as you sigh and speak, “About that...I can’t make it tonight.” Luna gives you a sad look as Harry groans and throws his head back. “Fred and I need to grade papers tonight to make the first quarter grades. If I get out early though, I’ll call and see if you guys are still there,” you offer as Harry slumps over.
“At least it sounds like things are going better with you and Fred,” Luna tells you and you nod with a smile. “Are you learning from him?”
“Absolutely,” you tell her. “Fred is actually a great professor and the class adores him. I’ve been enjoying it a lot recently.”
Harry wiggles his eyebrows, “Yeah, I’m sure you have.”
You slap Harry’s shoulder at his cheeky suggestion that something was going on. “Oh, quit it, Harry,” you say through gritted teeth. “Fred and I have a strictly working relationship. He and I are co-workers and are professional. All of my relationships are here. That’s more that some people can say,” you tease him about his engagement to Ginny as he rolls his eyes and mimics you. “Besides, there is nothing romantic or sexy about grading papers about ethics. In fact, it’s the opposite thing.”
Harry laughs, “You never know. Maybe you two will get so caught up in talking about morals that you just start to...” he mimics the sounds of sloppy snogging and moaning as you slap his arm again, Luna giggling. “Okay, okay, I’m just teasing you! But if you can meet us at the pub, give one of us a call and we can hail you a cab,” he tells you as you hug Luna goodbye and then Harry.
“Will do. Have a drink for me. Lord knows I’ll need one,” you huff, watching them walk off to catch up to Dean and Seamus.
Instead of getting drunk at a bar after a long week of work, you would be grading papers all night with Fred. Which honestly, maybe, didn’t sound so awful.
A few hours past and you and Fred were at on opposite sides of his desk, empty Chinese take out boxes scattered around you along with empty coffee cups and cans of energy drinks. It was ten o’clock at night and you had hardly made a dent in the papers. You throw your head on the desk with a thud, making Fred chuckle. “This is hell,” you groan. “Do they even proof read their sentences?” you ask Fred who shakes his head. “Seriously. Some of these papers are just bad. Weak thesis and an even weaker argument,” you slap the paper in front of you.
Fred scribbles in red ink on one paper and circle the letter grade on it before shifting it to the done pile. “Honestly, if it’s horrid and you struggle to make it past the third page, just skip to the end, read the conclusion and if it reads fine, give them a C minus. If they have a problem, they can come to office hours and talk about it with me,” he tells you as you laugh. “I’ve done that with two of them already.”
You place a C minus in red ink at the end of the paper and shift yours into the done pile. “How many more do we have left? We’ve been here for nearly six hours,” you tell him.
Fred examines the pile and huffs, “About four more. So two more each and then we’ll be done. The papers are ten pages long, so only twenty more pages of absolute garbage to read before we are done.”
Eh, that wasn’t so bad. You sigh and examine the room around you. Your eyes land on Fred whose eyes scan over the page as he nibbles away at his lower lip, glasses resting low on the bridge of his nose, red pen tucked behind his ear. He made markings on the paper here and there, adding comments as he sees fit. He’d mumble a bloody hell here and there if something was really bad, making you giggle. He’d catch your eye and a proud smile would form on his lips when he saw that he’d made you giggle.
After another hour and a half of grading, you were finally finished with the thick stack of papers on Fred’s desk. The two of you let out a sigh of relief as you leaned back in your chairs. “Freedom!” Fred cried out as you laughed, running your fingers through your hair. “And before midnight!” he points to his watch, the hands pointing to 11:37pm. “I think I know what this calls for,” he speaks wiggling his brows as you watch him stand up and pulls out a drawer to reveal a small handle of whiskey.
You laugh and shake your head. “Ohhhh, no,” you laugh and wave your hands.
“Really, (Y/N)? Eight hours of grading papers and you don’t want one drink?” he pours one glass, waiting to pour yours.
You think for a moment. You were supposed to call Harry and Luna and tell them that you would meet them at the bar. But quite honestly, you didn’t feel like leaving the classroom and the pleasant company of Fred. Maybe some one on one time could strengthen your relationship...as co-workers, of course.
In defeat, you sigh, “Fine.”
Fred smiles and pours you a nice, hefty glass of the brown liquor before handing it to you and sitting in his chair. “To a job well done,” he toasts as you clink your glasses together, sipping from the glass. The whiskey is smooth and warms your chest up delightfully as you relax further into the chair. The two of you rest in comfortable silence before Fred starts, “So...after you’ve finished your job here, where do you hope to go?”
You think for a moment and lean on your elbows on his desk, letting your hair flop forward. “Not too sure really,” you admit. “I know I want to teach at a university level, but it’s just a matter of where positions are available. Maybe I’ll go back to Oxford and see if there’s any availability in their department,” you toss around as Fred boos you, knowing the rivalry between Cambridge and Oxford is still fierce. “But I’m trying to go with the flow and see where the demand is.”
Fred nods his head and huffs, “Well...what if I told you that there is going to be an opening in position here at Hogwarts for next fall?” You give him a confused look as you sip from your whiskey. He says, “Professor McGonagall? She’s been here for ages and she’s retiring after nearly sixty years of teaching.” You widen your eyes and nod your head. Impressive. “The department is looking to hire a new, fresh face and I think you might be right for the job...” he takes a sneaky sip from his glass.
“It’s a really kind offer, Fred, really thoughtful of you,” you tell him. “But I want to know that where I apply for a job I’ve earned it. I didn’t get the job because someone pulled the strings behind the scenes,” you tell him. This was true. Anyone would kill for a job at Hogwarts University, but you wanted to know that you earned your title here and not because a friend handed it to you.
He leans forward and speaks, “This wouldn’t be me pulling any strings. (Y/N), you are a brilliant person and the students adore you. Just last week four students asked for your contact information to reach out about private tutoring. Neville loves you and the department sees the work that you’ve been doing and is throughly impressed. You’ve earned this position and the respect that comes along with it,” he tells you, honestly shining in his eyes, making you melt in your chair at his gaze. You feel heat rising to your cheeks as you look away from him, sipping from your glass. The sight makes Fred’s heart skip a beat.
“Are you saying I’ve earned your respect?” you ask him with a teasing smile as he chuckles.
“Yes. You earned it awhile ago. You’re an incredible woman,” he tells you as you smile, looking down at the glass in your hands, too meek to meet Fred’s gaze now.
It’s quiet for a moment before Fred clears his throat and stands up, turning on the speaker as Frank Sinatra softly starts playing again as you laugh to yourself. It Happened In Monterey starts to echo in the classroom as you smile at Fred. “One of my favorites,” you tell him.
Fred nods, “One of his best hits,” he says as if it were a fact. “Give me your top three. Go.”
You think for a moment before speaking, “It Happened In Monterey, The Way You Look Tonight, and Girl From Ipanema. I think those are his best.”
Fred smiles, “Agreed. His version of The Way You Look Tonight I prefer much over Tony Bennett’s.”
“Oh, easily! Don’t get me wrong, Tony Bennett has some great hits, but he doesn’t hold a candle to Frankie,” you tell Fred, making him chuckle. The two of you chat about music for a little while longer before Come Fly With Me comes on and Fred claps his hands. “My mom loves this song,” you smile, fondly remembering her singing in the kitchen to this song.
Fred rises to his feet and immediately grabs your hands and brings you to his feet. He places your drinks down on the desk as he spins you around, making you laugh. “You can’t not dance to this song,” he tells you, placing his hand on your waist, the other holding your other hand in his larger one. The contact makes your heart flutter in your chest as you giggle as he spins you around again, this time into his chest.
Your back is pressed against him as he sway with you in his arms before spin you back out, dancing around and around the classroom, the two of you laughing messes as you dance to Frank Sinatra, still in your work clothes from this morning. As you dance, you steal glances of Fred. How his hair was messy from running his fingers through it, his tie loose around his neck, impressions of his glasses in the bridge of his nose. He was so effortlessly handsome and it made your stomach sway at the sight of him. How he could be so handsome without even realizing it. Without even realizing how he made you feel. All warm and fuzzy inside, giggling like a child as he spun you around in his arms, making this moment feel like something out of a movie.
The song slowly fades away before Autumn in New York starts play, changing the tone of the room. You two catch your breaths before looking at each other in the eyes, Fred’s hands on your waist as your hands rest on his chest. The two of you look at each other, and slowly start to sway as the orchestra of the song starts to swell. Frank’s clear voice echos in the empty classroom as you slowly wrap your arms around Fred’s neck, him pulling you close to his body as you start to slow dance in the middle of the classroom, neither of you registering what is happening. You two were purely acting on instinct. But god, it felt so right.
The two of you dance gently to the music as Fred’s hands rest on your lower back, his thumbs tracing small circles into your jumper as you lace your fingers around his neck. No words are spoken. You just listen to the music and stare at the other, taking each other in during the dance. How could something that started off so innocent turn so beautiful?
Your mind was reeling, watching Fred look at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You wanted to tell him everything that’s ever happened to you in this moment. Everything that you’ve gone through that brought you to this moment. Something about Fred made you feel safe. Something you hadn’t felt in years.
As the music starts to come to a close, you can feel Fred lean down gently and press his forehead to yours as you inhale a shaky breath. So desperately you wished to close the gap between you two, pushing your lips together, giving into him. But before anything can happen, the horns blare over the speaker, Brazil blasting over the speakers, making the two of you jump, startled at the change in pace.
You place a hand over your heart as Fred races over to the speaker to lower the volume. “That scared the living hell out of me,” you breathe out as Fred laughs and nods. The two of you stand there, wondering what to say, knowing that you were both thinking the same thing. But no one says anything. “Um,” you clear your throat. “It’s quite late. I should probably get going...” you trail off as you walk over to grab your purse and notebooks.
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he tells you with a nod, cleaning up the mess of take away boxes on his desk. “You need me to call you a cab?” he asks.
“No, no, it’s fine, I got it,” you tell him with a smile as he nods, throwing out the garbage and sorting away miscellaneous papers. “Um, I, um...”
“I had fun with you,” Fred finishes your sentence for you as you exhale and smile gently with a nod. “I’ll see you on Monday then?”
You nod your head, “Absolutely, yeah.” He grins and digs his hands into his pockets.
You start to make your way towards the door, but Fred stops you and says, “Hey, (Y/N)? On Monday, I’d like you to run the lecture. For both classes.” Your eyes widen as you look at him in disbelief. You try to protest, but Fred speaks, “I think that the class would benefit from your perspective. And your sheer brilliance.”
A small smile forms on your lips as you let out a breathy laugh. “Wow. Okay. Yeah. For sure,” you tell him with a nod as Fred smiles. “Thank you, Fred. This is...wow. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me,” he tells you. “You’ve earned it. You’ve earned it all. Now, get going and get a goodnight’s rest. That you surely deserve.”
And with one small wave, you exit the classroom and start down the hall, feeling like you were on cloud nine. Nothing felt as good as this.
------
Monday rolls around as quickly as Friday left and you enter campus with a pep in your step. Today you were teaching the class and you were beyond prepared. You had your lesson plan in your bag, a coffee in your hand, and your favorite jumper on. You felt invincible.
As you walked into the staff lounge, Harry sat with Seamus, sipping on coffees and munching on provided breakfast. “Morning, you lot,” you chime merrily as you place your bag on the table and walk towards the breakfast tray and grab a crossiant.
“You’re too cheery for a Monday morning,” Seamus says with a look on his face. “What’s got you so bright eyes and bushy tailed?”
You smile to yourself as you walk back to the table, tearing open the croissant to slab some jam on it. “Fred is letting me run lecture today,” you reply happily.
Seamus looks over to Harry with wide eyes, the two of them in complete shock. “Wow,” Seamus says. “That’s...incredible. Good on you, (Y/N),” he tells you as you thank him with a smile. “I didn’t know Fred let his TA run a class. The most he let Dean do was take roll,” he told Harry.
Harry took a sip from his coffee and wiggled his brows, “I didn’t think so either. I guess our very own (Y/N) has made him have a change of heart.”
You roll your eyes and speak, “I earned this, Harry. I’ve been working my ass off and after a long night of grading papers, Fred offered me the opportunity which I gladly took.” Harry nods his head with a mhm as you throw as piece of croissant at him. “I’m serious!”
“I’m not saying you don’t deserve it, (Y/N)! You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met; you deserve this like humans needs to breathe!” Harry exclaims. “I’m just...shocked that Fred let you make a lesson plan, nevertheless teach a whole class,” he speaks as you shrug. “Guess you bring out the best in Fred Weasley.”
You smile, “Is that such a bad thing?” Harry chuckles as Seamus shakes his head with a huff. “Well, if you excuse me, I have to get ready for my lecture,” you joke as Harry rolls his eyes.
“Don’t let this thing get to your head!” he calls after you as you flip him the bird, making Seamus laugh.
As you walk to 523, your heart patter against your chest with excitement, but also lots of nerves. What if they preferred Fred over you? What if Fred was more engaging with them? What if someone fell asleep? What if someone asked you a question you couldn’t answer?
Soon your confidence began to waver as you entered the classroom, Fred clearing the chalkboard, getting the room ready for you. “There she is. Professor for the day,” Fred claps his hands. “You excited?” he asks. But you don’t answer him. You nervously place your purse on the desk and start gnawing at your nails. This makes Fred worried as he walks over to you and places his hands on your shoulders. “You alright?” he asks, concern washing over his face.
You relax into his touch as you sigh, “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just...nervous.” Fred gives you a sympathetic smile. “What if they like you better than me? What if I say something stupid and they all laugh at me? What if I forget everything? I mean, how much do I really know about Mill? Probably nothing,” you ramble.
Fred laughs and gives you arms a squeeze, forcing your eyes up to him. “Hey, look at me,” he speaks as you huff and look into his comforting gaze. “Everything is going to be just fine. You are brilliant and the students love you. You’re gonna get up there and smash it. I know it,” he tells you with a confident smile, making your heart flutter and your stomach flip. “I was nervous for my first lecture too, but once you start, the adrenaline gets pumping and you feel on top of the world.”
You give him a shaky nod, “Yeah. Okay. I can do this, yeah?”
“Absolutely,” he laughs. “You’re more than capable,” he reassures you. “I believe in you. I always have,” he speaks, tilting your chin up with his fore finger as you gulp thickly. Fred’s eyes dart to your lips back up to your eyes as he smiles softly. “You’ll be brilliant.”
“Thank you,” you speak just above a whisper as Fred nods.
Slowly, he pulls away from you and sits at his desk which prompts the first student to enter the classroom as you gather your notebook and a piece of chalk, writing on the board in bold letters, Mill and Utilitarianism. You wipe your hands on your pants and look over to Fred who gives you a thumbs up.
Soon enough, the classroom fills up with students as you try to keep yourself calm and not let the class see your nerves. “Happy Monday, everyone,” Fred speaks from his desk. “I hope you all had a great weekend. Your papers on Aristotle have been graded and the grades are posted online. Some of you did great, some of you did shit. If you have any complaints, you can see me or (Y/N) after class to discuss,” he speaks, earning a few laughs from the class. Fred speaks, “Brian, I wouldn’t laugh if I were you. (Y/N) couldn’t make it past page three of yours before handing it off to me.” This earns a loud roar of laughter from the class which eased your nerves. God, Fred knew exactly what you needed. “Speaking of (Y/N), she will be running lecture today. I’ll be playing the role of TA and you’ll give her the same amount of respect like you give me. Understood?” The class nods. “Brilliant. (Y/N), you have the floor.”
You smile at him, “Thank you, Fred, for the introduction.” Fred nods. You turn to the class. “Alright. Let’s talk about Mill’s Utilitarianism. After reading it, what are our thoughts? How do we feel about Mill in comparison to Kant or Aristotle?” you ask generally trying to ease into the lecture.
The class is motionless for a moment before Jessica raises her hand and you nod. “I found it interesting how he acknowledges the objections in his work,” she tells you as you nod. “Not many philosopher’s explicitly do that in their works.”
“Great,” you smile at her. “Let’s take a look at that. Everyone open up your copies and turn to page seven. Mill writes, ‘Life has no higher purpose than pleasure? What are we, swine?’ What do you think this means?” you ask the class. The stare blankly at you as you inhale deeply, this being a fear of yours. But before you can allow yourself to freak out, you think about what Fred would do. You repeat the quote again and add this time, “Are we swines? I mean, I don’t know about Brian, but I know that I’m not a swine.”
This causes the class to erupt with laughter, Fred included, and Brian blushes a deep shade of red before he raises his hand to answer the question. Ah, victory.
The class continues on and the discussion was incredible with both classes you taught. The students had such provoking conversations with fruitful discussions on the topic. It made your heart swell that they were so good for you and you felt like you were in your element the whole time.
Fred couldn’t help but smile to himself as he watched you give the lecture, bouncing off points, connecting ideas, and posing new questions that he couldn’t even think of. You were electric and the students were infatuated with you, even more so than they were with him. He couldn’t help but feel proud of you. He loved watching you smile and laugh as you talked to the students.
“Okay, well unfortunately we are at time, but next week bring in your annotated books along with your first drafts of your papers!” you tell the class as they thank you as they leave the class one by one.
After each student has left the classroom and the door shuts, you turn to Fred who springs from his chair and runs over to you, scooping you up in a hug and spinning you around as you laugh. “Sheer brilliance,” he places you down with a beaming smile. “I’ve never seen students so excited to talk about moral philosophy,” he shakes his head as you grin widely, holding your hands behind your back. “That was great, (Y/N).”
“I feel great,” you tell him with a smile. “Seriously. It blows my mind how smart they are sometimes. Bloody Brian had such great talking points today!” you beam as Fred laughs. “But really, I learned everything that I did today from you. You are the great teacher,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder playfully.
Fred rolls his eyes, “Oh, don’t give me all the credit. I mean...give me some, but not all.” You laugh and shake your head. “Kidding, kidding,” he tells you as you smile at him, taking in the way his face looked as the sun started to set behind him, signaling the end of your day. “Um, I’ll walk with you to the lot?”
You nod your head as the two of you pack your things and make your way to the parking lot with Fred, the both of you making light chatter about the class discussions and how thought provoking they all were. As you walk in the halls, you pass Harry who calls out, “I’m guessing it went well!”
“Shut it, Potter!” you call back as Fred chuckles.
Soon enough, you reach the staff parking lot and Fred digs around in his pockets for the key to his car. “Well,” Fred huffs. “You did a great job today, (Y/N). I would say I’m impressed, but I knew you would do brilliantly.”
You beam, “Thank you, Fred. Really. I know how much this class means to you and I thank you for trusting me with it.”
He smiles and leans against the hood of his black Audi, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows before leaning on his hands. “It’s my pleasure. I know how much teaching a class meant to you and I’m happy I could help,” he tells you as you nod.
The two of you stand there, watching each other as the sun sets behind the castle. Fred’s eyes glossed over your body and how pants hugged your curves and how the jumper clung onto your figure. He took a deep breath in before smiling to himself as you gulped and cleared your throat, trying to diffuse some of the tension between the two of you. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, Professor,” you tease Fred as he chuckles.
You start to walk away and towards the bus stop, but Fred’s voice stops you. “(Y/N)?” he speaks as you turn back to him, walking back to him. “I’ve got a quick question for you.”
“What’s up?”
“So, Mill said ‘There's no time for all this calculating when we're faced with an actual moral decision.’ And I’m afraid that I have a moral decision of my own,” he speaks with a smirk as you heart races at the sight of the smile you’ve grown so fond of over the past few weeks.
You smile at your feet before looking up at him. “And what would that moral decision be, Professor Weasley?” you tease him as he chuckles.
“That night, we spent grading papers,” he starts as you tuck your hands into your back pockets. “I wanted to kiss you.” His confession makes your heart race as face heat up. “And ever since then, I’ve been trying to find a moment where I can finally suck it up and kiss you,” he smirks. “So, what I guess what I’m trying to say is, is it alright if I kiss my teaching assistant in the parking lot of this bloody school?”
You lightly laugh and speak, taking a step closer to him as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you place your hands on his chest, “Well, if we are talking about this in the terms of Mill, would kissing your teaching assistant bring you pleasure?”
Fred smiles, “Without a doubt.”
“Then I think you’re morally obligated to,” you tell him as he chuckles.
He hesitates no longer and dips his head down to connect your lips together as you inhale deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips are soft, but passionate against you as they gently move against yours. His hands squeeze your hips gently as you press yourself against his body, making Fred lightly moan into your mouth. His tongue slips past your parted lips, caressing his tongue with yours as you let out a soft moan, making Fred inhale deeply. Your heart is pounding against your chest as you gently pull at the roots of his hair, relishing in the way his lips feel against yours. His mouth moves slowly and lazily against yours, making your head spin and desire grow. It’s everything you imagined it would be as cliche as it sounded.
Gently, you pull away as Fred smiles lightly. “Thank you, John Stuart Mill,” he breathes out, making you laugh. “I’ve been dying to do that.”
“I’m glad you did,” you confess to him, arms still wrapped around him as Fred squeezes your hips, placing another soft kiss to your lips. “Now that you’ve accomplish that moral dilemma, do you have any idea what your next one is?” you tease him, wiggling your brows.
Fred shakes his head, “Oh, we’ve got the rest of the semester to figure that one out.”
prompt: you always knew fred would be a great dad and every day he exceeds your expectations
pairing: dad! fred x mom! reader
warnings: pregnancy, hospitals, children (yes, children is a warning), mild language, suggestion and brief mention of sex, thunderstorm, fear of thunder/rain.
word count: 6.2k
author’s note: THIS BITCH SO LONG IM SO SORRY this is the last installment of the 60s writing challenge!! thank you to everyone who has tuned in!!
It was laughable; the way Fred stared at your large pregnant belly with eyes full of anticipation, hands placed on either sides of it, waiting for your child to kick at his hands. You giggled as he gently whispered to your protruding stomach, “Come on, little one. It’s your daddy. Give us a little kick, yeah?” Your stomach remained still as he lightly groaned, only making you laugh. “This child already likes keeping me on my wit’s end,” he grumbled before kissing your belly. “I’m just teasing,” he whispered again to the bump. “I love you so much.”
You brush your fingers through Fred’s hair, him sighing as you do. Fred had been so darling over the past nine months of your pregnancy. He found more staff for the joke shoppe to take over the early morning shifts and the night shifts so he could spend those hours taking care of you, helping around the house, and preparing for the baby’s arrival. You were always Fred’s number one priority, but that was set in stone after you became pregnant. He would literally drop anything if you even murmured that you needed something. Fred would wake up first and get your prenatal vitamins ready for you to drink with a large glass of water, he’d make breakfast, clean the kitchen, and only then would he wake you up. You had to admit, you could get used to living like this. But alas, you were past your due date and the baby was expected any day now.
“She loves you too, Freddie,” you tell him as you prop yourself up on your elbows, getting a better look at your husband who still rubs his hands over your stomach, searching for your unborn baby’s feet.
Fred looks up at you with questioning eyes. “She?” Fred could honestly care less about the sex of his child, as long as the baby was healthy. That’s all he could truly ask for. But secretly, deep down, Fred wanted a little girl, a princess. Someone who could be his princess since he had already found his queen.
You smiled with a shrug, “I have a feeling. I know it’s supposed to be a surprise, but when you know you know, don’t you?”
With that, against the skin of your stomach, pressed against Fred’s hand is two large kicks. Fred’s eyes widen as he sits up, feeling his child kick against his hands as the two of you laugh. Fred smiles wide and says, “Is that a sign?” he stares up at you with excited eyes as you cover your mouth laughing with glee. “Is that right, baby? A little girl?” he whispers to your belly, earning another two strong kicks as the two of you laugh out with delight. “A little princess and a strong one at that!” he cheers. “We’ve got a little football player on our hands, don’t we? Well, too bad, because your daddy is going to teach you all about quidditch.”
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The hospital room was quiet, no one daring to disturb the air that surrounded the newborn baby girl that was fast asleep on your chest. Her plump cheeks squished against your bare chest made you and Fred smile with delight. A healthy baby girl born after a brutally long labor, but it was all worth it. You softly kissed the top of her head, making her stir in her sleep.
You looked over at Fred to see him, gently wipe tears from his eyes as he gazed upon your newborn daughter. In this room, he had everything he’d ever wanted. The sight of your husband looking so lovingly at your daughter made your heart swell as you felt hot tears prick up behind your eyes. Reaching out, you cupped Freddie’s cheek as brushed away with happy tears with your thumb. Freddie looked up at you with eyes so tender and a smile so warm, you giggled out a sob. “She’s perfect,” he quietly spoke to you as you nodded your head in agreement.
She really was the most precious thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Her button nose and soft features rested upon her gentle skin, tufts of strawberry blonde hair poking out from the cap the hospital dressed her in. Her lips were pink and squished against your chest as small dreaming noises escaped now and again. Your darling little girl, your little flower.
“Daisy,” you spoke softly to Fred as you brushed your daughter’s cheek softly.
The two of you had spoke about what to name the baby for a while, a few names tossed around here and there, but none of them felt right. Until Daisy popped into your head.
Fred nodded his head with a happy smile, “Yeah.” In her sleep, the baby stirred at the sound of Fred’s voice, making him scoot impossibly closer to the hospital bed, leaning close to his daughter. “How do you like that, love bug?” he cooed at the sleeping baby on your chest. “Daisy,” he smiled to himself. “I love you so much. You’re going to give mommy a run for her money,” he joked, making you roll your eyes with a breathy chuckle. Fred looked up at you and placed a kiss to your forehead. “I can’t believe we made something as perfect as she is,” he shakes his head in disbelief.
You smiled at your husband and sighed. The man before you was so perfect, helplessly in love with you and the child you created. Slowly, you peeled sleeping Daisy off of your chest and handed her over to an eager Fred, scooping her in his arms, cradling the baby close to his chest. Fred cooed down at his baby who slowly fluttered her eyes open, peering her dark eyes, that looked so like Fred’s, up at him. You laid back in the hospital bed, relaxing as you watched Fred murmur to Daisy, speaking gently and kissing her forehead and nose every now and again. As if you couldn’t fall more in love with Fred, watching him become a father was enough to make you fall in love fifty more times.
Fred rose from the chair he was sat in and started walking around the hospital room, rocking the baby and talking to her about the life she was going to have. “Just wait until Uncle George gets his hands on you,” he whispered as you silently laughed. “Grandma Molly is going to spoil the hell out of you,” he shook his head for his eyes widened and he looked at you. “I shouldn’t curse in front of our baby, should I?” he asks as you shake your head. “Damn it,” he curses again as he winces. “I’ll stop now,” he huffs making you laugh as your eyes feel heavy. The long labor had you exhausted and you had been up with Daisy feeding her and watching her alongside Fred. “Darling,” Fred cooed at you, “get some rest, please. I’ve got Daisy and she’s not due for another feeding for some time. You need to get some rest,” he tells you, walking over to the bed, helping pull the sheets up to cover you as you look up at his handsome face. “I’ll take care of our baby. Don’t worry.”
With a teasing sleepy smile on your face, you say, “I don’t know how much I trust you with a newborn child.” Fred gives you a look, making you chuckle. “I’m kidding, love, I’m kidding.” Fred kisses your forehead, your nose, and then your lips gently, him rubbing your cheek with his thumb. “I love you.”
“I love you,” Fred speaks before placing another kiss to your lips softly. He sits himself in the chair again, Daisy looking sleepy again herself. He sighs before clearing his throat and gently starting to sing a melody that sounded all too familiar to you. “I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day,” he sings, making your heart flutter in your chest. “When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May,” his voice is soothing, the vibrations from his chest calming Daisy down and putting her in a sleepy trance. “I guess you’d say what can make me feel this way, my girl, talkin’ ‘bout my girl,” his deep voice sings the familiar love song.
Fred looks at you as you watch him with a small smile on your face, tears welling up in your eyes. He was singing your wedding song to your baby. It felt like a dream. Being married to the man you’ve always loved, seeing him cradle your beautiful baby girl in his arms, singing the song you would dance to as teenagers. It was unreal, but somehow, you were lucky enough to be living in it.
“I got so much honey, the bees envy me. I’ve got a sweeter song than the birds in the trees,” he continues to sing along, slowly putting both you and Daisy to sleep as you flutter your eyes closed, happy and safe.
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The drive back from the hospital was slow. Fred insisting on not driving faster than twenty miles an hour even though the speed limit was thirty. This caused many cars on the road to change lanes and shoot Fred dirty looks.
“Fred, honey, you can drive faster than this. She’s in a car seat, strapped in very well as you made sure of before we left the hospital, and the road is very clear considering everyone has driven around you,” you tell him from the passenger seat.
He shakes his head, “No way. I am remaining as safe as humanly possible. Can’t risk putting my little flower petal in harm’s way.”
But eventually, you arrived back to your house where your friends and family awaited your arrival patiently. You turned the keys in the lock and pushed the door open, Fred following closely behind you with Daisy in her carrier. “We’re home,” you sing song out at the bunches of people who awaited your arrival in your home.
Everyone rises from the couches and chairs in your home, big smiles on their faces when they see you, Fred, and Daisy enter the door. Molly gasps and covers her mouth, tears already welling up in her eyes as Fred sighs. “Ron! Mum is already crying, you owe me two galleon!” George calls out. “I call holding it first!” George calls out.
“It?” Ginny makes fun of her brother with a light chuckle as Ron cackles from the other side of the couch, earning a pillow toss in the face from George. “I reckon I should hold the baby first considering I am going to be the godmother, right, (Y/N)?” Ginny asks.
George lets out a laugh, “Hilarious, Ginny. Last time I checked it was my twin who had the baby. Surely, I will be the godparent and the first one to hold it.”
“Stop calling the baby it!” Ginny reprimands him. “The baby is a...wait, you never told us what the baby’s sex is,” Ginny looks to you and Fred as the two of you are too preoccupied laughing at the antics of the group already. You weren’t even home five minutes and there was already arguing. “So?”
You look to Fred, giving him the honor of announcing the baby’s sex. “Everyone will get a turn holding her,” he announces as Ginny cheers out in victory, Ron owing George another two galleons, as Molly and Hermione squeal in excitement. “But who ever holds her first needs to wash their hands. I don’t want any dirty paws on my perfect baby girl,” he coos into the carrier before you take off the buckle and scoop Daisy into your arms as she stretches in your arms.
Ginny and George both make a mad dash to the sink, pushing the other out of their ways, trying to wash their hands first. You shake your head with a chuckle, and look down at your baby girl who is fast asleep still, still too young to understand the chaos of a family she was born into.
Molly laughs and speaks, “While those two battle of the soap, little do they know I already washed and sanitized my hands when I came in.” You laugh, knowing Molly Weasley came prepared to be the first one to hold her grandchild.
“Wait,” Fred stops his mother before you can pass the baby over to her. He pulls a vile of hand sanitizer from his pocket and squirts two drops in his mother’s hands, just in case. You slap his arm. “What? Can’t be too safe,” he defends himself. After Molly rubs in the gel, she looks at her son, giving him a sarcastic look. “Alright, now you can hold her,” he speaks as Molly rolls her eyes as you gently place Daisy in her arms.
Molly looks down at the newest addition to the Weasley family and her lights light up. Arthur looks over her shoulder and smiles softly at the beautiful babe in Molly’s arms. “She’s just a doll, isn’t she?” Arthur whispers as Molly cradles your daughter in her arms.
George and Ginny race back into the living room only to find their mother holding Daisy instead of one of them. George groans as Ginny defeatedly flops on the couch. “Snooze you lose, children,” she teases with a smile and George mimics her before flopping on the couch next to Ginny and Harry. Molly looks back at you and Fred with a big smile. “Well done, you two,” she beams as Fred hugs you from behind, resting his chin on the top of your head. “She’s simply beautiful.”
“Thank you, Molly,” you smile. “So, do you lot want to know her name?” you ask the group, earning a symphony of yes’s and please’s. You look up at Fred who gives you an encouraging nod. With a gulp, you reveal, “Her name is Daisy.” Hermione smiles widely and claps her hands excitedly. “Daisy Ginevra Weasley,” you finish.
Ginny’s eyes widen in shock at the baby’s middle name. It was important to both you and Fred that you had a family name in there besides the surname. You were insistent on giving Daisy Ginny’s name as her middle name. Ginny played a big factor in why you and Fred got together and she was always there for you every step of your relationship. It only seemed right to name your child after her. “You...you named her after me?” Ginny asks in disbelief as you and Fred nod your heads. “Bloody hell,” she whispers with a smile, tears making her eyes glassy, but she pushes them down with a shake of her head. “I don’t know what to say. I...” Ginny searches for the words, but just ends up running over to you and embracing you and Fred in the tightest hug.
You laugh and give her a squeeze before holding her face in your hands. “You’re my sister, Gin. It only made sense to name our first daughter after someone who means so much to the both of us,” you tell Ginny as she smiles, tears now spilling from her eyes. You wipe away the tears with your thumbs as Fred places a kiss to his sister’s forehead.
Ginny laughs before punching Fred’s arm teasingly. “Merlin, you lot have made me soft,” she wipes her tears with a sniffle, making you and Fred laugh. Molly walks over to her daughter and puts Daisy in her arms as Ginny gasps and holds the baby close to her chest. “Hello, little one,” she whispers as Fred holds you in his arms, smiling wide as he watches his little sister hold his daughter. The sight was enough to make you cry again. The person who had been so influential in you and Fred’s relationship was now holding your first born child. “Reckon you have quite a beautiful middle name, eh?” she laughs before taking a seat next to Harry on the couch.
“Georgina also has a nice ring to it. Daisy Georgina Weasley. It’s not too late, you know,” George tells you and Fred, making you laugh and Ginny give him a dirty look.
“Shut it, you wanker,” she whispers through gritted teeth.
“Ah, ah, ah! No swearing in front of the baby!” George tsks his sister before looking at you and Fred. “You don’t want a godparent who swears in front of children, now do you?” he continues to push Ginny’s buttons as she rolls her eyes, but continues to coo at Daisy who peels her eyes open and peers up at Ginny.
Fred walks towards George who sits in the living room chair and speaks, “Funny you should mention that. (Y/N) and I have both gone back and forth about this for a long while. And we decided that if anything should happen to either of us, we would want you to raise Daisy, George.” George’s eyes widen in disbelief as he looks back and forth between you and Fred as you smile widely. It was a no brainer deciding who Daisy’s godparent would be. George was the first person to know when you were pregnant, he made sure the joke shoppe could function the same now with Fred as a dad, he baby proofed his flat months in advance for Daisy’s arrival. George would be a great uncle and godfather to your child. “What do you say, Georgie?” Fred asks.
George engulfs Fred in a massive bear hug, making your heart swell as Molly wrapped her arm around you, pulling you into her side. Today was surely one of the best days of your life, watching your family care for this new life with so much love and tenderness. George pulls away from Fred with tears in his eyes, clearing his throat, and speaking, “Of course. Yeah, ‘course I will. If anyone lays a finger on that child consider them dead meat.” Fred laughs and hugs his brother again, the two of them sharing a tender moment.
Ginny rises from the couch and with a smile, passes Daisy over to her godfather and uncle. George holds Daisy with utmost care and carefulness. He carefully sits down and smiles at the small baby in his arms. “Hey, peanut. I’m your Uncle Georgie,” he smiles down at Daisy who yawns and stretches in his arms, pushing off her hospital cap in the process to reveal her tufts of strawberry blonde hair. “Ah, the Weasley signature,” George laughs. “Sorry about that one, (Y/N),” he winks as you laugh, sitting on the couch with Ginny’s legs folded over your lap as she kisses your cheek. “Godric, she’s beautiful, Freddie,” George gushes. “You’re gonna be a heart breaker, kid. Just like your mum before she met your dear old dad. You know it took him three times before she finally said yes to go out with him?”
“Alright, no need to embarrass me in front of my three day old child,” Fred laughs, sitting on the arm of the chair.
The whole lot of you sits in the living room, quite still, watching Daisy as she gets passed around the room, each person interacting with her, cooing at her. When she gets passed around to Ron and Hermione, Ron huffs, “So, Ginny is her namesake, George is her godparent, does that make me the cool uncle?”
With a laugh, you shake your head, “Absolutely. Every kid needs a cool uncle and aunt.”
Ron smiles, “Wicked.”
Hermione coos at Daisy, Ron gently brushing her cheek with his forefinger as Daisy yawns widely. “You are a darling,” Hermione blushes to the baby before looking at Ron with pleading eyes.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. I have the daunting job of being cool uncle. Let me get that job done first before we get involved with something else,” he warns as Hermione laughs along with the rest of the group.
You look over to Fred who is already looking at you, love plaguing his eyes as you sigh happily. He smiles at you gently before mouthing an I love you, you reciprocating the action. Everything in this moment felt so right, so perfect.
----------
“You’re coming over for dinner on Wednesday, right?” Ginny confirms with you as Harry helps her into her coat, baby Lily on Ginny’s hip.
Everyone had come over for Sunday dinner at you and Fred’s house, like every other week. But as the years went by, the dinner guest list had changed and adapted to include more people. Harry and Ginny’s first child as well as Ron and Hermione’s first child became a part of the guest list along with Angelina as she was now engaged to George. It was always something to look forward to at the end of the weekend, having family over. Not to mention, Daisy was obsessed with her cousins.
“Of course. I don’t think Daisy would let us miss it,” you tell Ginny as you kiss Harry and Ginny goodbye. “Dee! Come say goodbye Aunt Gin and Uncle Harry!” you call out to your daughter who is still running around with James, Albus, Rose, and Hugo.
Daisy, now three years old, whines, “I don’t want to say goodbye, Mummy!” She stomps her foot in protest and folds her arms in protest. Daisy loved every moment she spent with her family which only made you and Fred happier. Family was so important to the two of you and the fact that her best friends where her cousins always warmed your hearts.
You smiled at your daughter and replied, “I know, darling. But you’ll see everyone again on Wednesday when we visit Aunt Gin and Uncle Harry’s house.”
Ginny chimes in, “And when you come over, I’ll let you wear my quidditch gloves like last time. How does that sound?”
Daisy’s face lights up and she immediately runs over to Ginny and hugs her legs as Ginny scoops her up and peppers her face with kisses as Daisy laughs wildly. Daisy looked up to Ginny. She always told you and Fred how much she wanted to be like her and play quidditch and fly around on a broom and win all of the games. She even started to demand being called by her middle name and not her first name, but you compromised with Daisy Gin.
Ginny places Daisy back down before calling out, “Alright, Potters! Let’s get a move on. You boys both need a bath,” she huffs when she sees chocolate smeared over both of her boy’s faces as they giggle wildly, running to Harry as he scoops up Albus and sets him on his hip. “Maybe if Uncle Fred didn’t let you eat half of the sweets bin, you wouldn’t need a third bath today,” she speaks, ruffling her hands in James’ hair, giving Fred the stink eye.
“Cool uncles let their cool nephews eat a bit of chocolate now and again, isn’t that right, James?” Fred asks, James fist bumping him in response with a wide grin.
The Potters leave the house with a final round of goodbyes and kisses before Ron and Hermione follow suit, putting on jackets. Hermione bundles Hugo up in his rain boots and rain coat as Rose appears at your feet. “Auntie (Y/N), can Daisy and I have a sleepover again?” she asks, batting her eyes at you with the most devious smile she could conjure up.
Ron rubs his face, “Sweet Merlin, Rose, you are trouble with a capital t.”
You laugh and give Rose a kiss on her forehead, “Of course we can. How about next week you can sleepover here and we can go pancakes in the morning like last time?” Rose’s eyes widen as she and Daisy squeal with excitement.
“Come on, darling,” Hermione calls over to Rose, holding her hand out for Rose to take. “Thanks again, dinner was delicious, (Y/N),” Hermione kisses your cheek goodbye.
“Don’t mention it,” you speak. “We’re still on for drinks with Luna on Friday, right?” you ask as she nods excitedly. “Brilliant. That means cool uncle and cool dad are in charge of the kids,” you beam before giving Ron and hug goodbye.
Ron laughs, “Coolest uncle. I’ve been promoted.” You chuckle before waving goodbye to Ron, Hermione, and the kids. This just left George and Angelina which was always the toughest part of the night.
George slips on his coat as Angelina follows, before he calls out. “Alright, my flower,” he speaks. “Hit me with your best one.” He holds out his arms as Daisy giggles, running into his arms and throws her arms around his neck as George picks her up and swings her around, making Daisy squeal. “Oh, Uncle Georgie loves you so much,” he kisses her cheeks before blowing fart noises in her neck, making her laugh even harder. “I’ve got a proposal for you, my darling. How about little Daisy here helps up open up the shop next Saturday? Teach her about the family business?” he tickles her sides as Daisy giggles, Angelina watching her fiancé lovingly as he entertains the child with ease. “What do you say, (Y/N)? Dad will be there to make sure Uncle George doesn’t corrupt the child,” he teases as you roll your eyes.
You sigh and look at your husband and brother in law. “Yeah, alright,” you comply as Daisy cheers while George spins her around in victory. “Only if that means Angie and I get to have a night out on Saturday.”
Angelina laughs in agreement. “Absolutely. And it’s you lot’s treat,” she adds as you smile before giving her a hug and kiss goodbye. “I’ll see you soon, (Y/N). Thank you again for dinner.”
You watch as George dances around with Daisy, her smiling widely. George was a brilliant uncle and godfather. He was always willing to drop anything when you or Fred needed some help with her. Not to mention, he never minded playing babysitter when you and Fred needed a night alone.
Fred sighed, “Alright, Daisy Gin, time for a bath and bed. You’ve had a long day.”
“No!” she protests, wrapping her arms tighter around George’s neck, pressing her cheek against his as George laughs.
Fred pretends to gasp, “What do you mean no?”
“Uncle Georgie stays with me!” she demands. “And Auntie Angie!”
Fred’s heart swells at how much his young daughter loved his twin and his soon to be wife. “I know you want them to stay, my petal, but it’s time for bed. Besides, we’ll see Uncle George and Auntie Angie on Wednesday,” he tells your three year old as she pouts.
George speaks, “Hey, don’t be upset. That’s very soon. And besides, next time I see you, I’ll have a surprise...” This makes Daisy’s eyes light up with joy and clap her hands. “I’ll see you soon, okay? I love you bunches.”
“Love you,” Daisy smiles in her tiny voice as George places a kiss to her cheek, Angelina placing another kiss to her opposite cheek, making Daisy giggle. Daisy is handed off to Fred as the last couple leaves with another round of hugs and kisses.
“Get home safe! And be careful on the roads! It’s supposed to storm tonight!” Fred calls out as George and Angelina hop into their car with another wave. Fred closes the door with a sigh. Now it was just you, him, and Daisy. “Alright, you,” he teases Daisy who smiles. “I think it’s time for you to take a bath,” he scoops your daughter up into his arms, taking one of her bare feet in his hand, lifting it up to his nose. He feigns disgust. “Those stink, Daisy Gin!” he exclaims as Daisy giggles. “Mummy, we’ve got a 2342! Stinky feet!”
You gasp, “A 2342?!” Daisy laughs louder. “Get her in the bath! Stat!”
With that, Fred runs up the stairs and to the bathroom as Daisy shrieks with delight as you can’t help but chuckle. Even the simplest things Fred made fun. Each day with Fred as the father of your child was an adventure. He made the simple days extraordinary and the extraordinary days out of this world. He was the center of Daisy’s world; that baby girl loved her father more than anything. Sometimes it made you a little jealous, how much she adored Fred, but you couldn’t stay mad for too long. It was just so damned adorable how she stared up at Fred with so much idolization.
From your bedroom, you could hear Fred and Daisy sing nursery rhymes in the bath, Fred doing silly voices which only made Daisy giggle. The sang, they counted, talked about animals, and colors. Each babbling conversation made your heart swell with love.
“Mummy!” you hear Daisy call from her bedroom.
“Coming, my peanut!”
You walked down the hall and into Daisy’s room, decorated in white and yellow flowers on the walls with a bookcase filled with books and toys, and her small bed with sheets adorned with Holyhead Harpies sheets as per Daisy’s request. She sat on the bed, wrapped in her towel, waiting for you to change her into pajamas. It was your favorite part of the day.
You smiled at your daughter with freshly washed hair, wrapped in a green towel. “There’s my flower,” you smiled as Daisy kicked her legs excitedly. “What pajamas are we wearing tonight? Your Harpies pajamas are in the wash, but you have your daisy pajamas from Uncle Neville and your rainbow pajamas from Auntie Luna.” Daisy thinks for a moment before requesting her daisy pajamas from Neville.
As you change your daughter into fresh pajamas, you listen to her babble about how much fun she had with her cousins and how she couldn’t wait for Wednesday. You smiled to yourself, still wondering how you were so lucky to get the sweetest, most darling little girl in the world as your daughter. You brushed her hair gently before plaiting her red hair that matched Fred’s into two pigtail plaits. Daisy smiled at herself in the mirror as you peppered her right cheek with kisses making her giggle. “I love you, Daisy Gin,” you tell her.
“I love you, Mummy,” she bats her eyelashes, looking up at you with those big chocolate brown eyes that so resembled Fred’s. All of Daisy reminded you of Fred. From her hair to her eyes to the way she spoke, it was all so Fred which only made you love your little tike more fiercely.
You carried her back to bed, tucking her in her sheets before calling out for Fred. Within seconds, Fred appeared with a smile on his face. “Bedtime for my princess,” he smiles before kneeling next to you at her bedside. “Goodnight, my baby,” he kisses her forehead as Daisy closes her eyes with a smile.
“I’m not a baby!” she protests. “I’m a big girl! Like Auntie Ginny!”
Fred smiles as you laugh. “Oh, pardon me! Goodnight, my big girl,” he corrects himself as you lean over and give your baby a kiss on the forehead.
You run your finger through the loose strands of hair that are wispy around her face. “Sweet dreams, my girl,” you speak softly.
“Goodnight, Mummy,” she speaks sweetly, enough to make your heart burst. “Goodnight, Daddy,” she coos at Fred who smiles.
The two of you shut the lights and shut the door gently. You and Fred make your way into your bedroom, getting ready for bed yourselves. As Fred shuts the door behind him, you feel his arms wrap around your waist as you sigh. He presses a trial of kisses up your neck as you smile. “She’s getting so big,” you whine, turning around and facing Fred. He places a chaste kiss to your lips.
Fred sighs. It was true. Daisy was growing up way too fast for your liking. It was exciting, watching her become her own person. But at the same time, you loved her at this age. How small and confident she was. How she thought she was so in control. It was adorable. “I don’t like thinking about it too much,” he confesses. “But...” he trails off before starting to unbutton the buttons of your shirt. “We could prevent that...if we had another...” he suggests as you smirk. “It’s been nearly three years. Don’t you think we deserve another one?” he wiggles his eyebrows. “Another baby to keep Daisy company...”
You shake your head, “Fred Weasley, you are relentless.” You press a kiss to his lips and Fred deepens it, kissing you slowly and tenderly as you gently moan into his mouth. He smirks as he pushes the shirt you wear off your body. Quickly pulling away, you look at him. “Are you sure she’s asleep already? I don’t need our daughter walking in on a situation neither of us want to explain to a three year old,” you tell him.
Fred huffs before kissing you again, mumbling against your lips. “I’m sure.” You give him a knowing look as he groans, “Fine. I’ll lock the door. But you better get your ass in that bed.”
You giggle as Fred runs to the door, locking it as you crawl into the bed, a little too excited.
----------
A few hours later, you and Fred are fast asleep, Fred shirtless, arm draped around your torso as you wear his shirt to sleep. The sounds of rain hitting the window sound through the master bedroom, the occasional rumble of thunder here and there. To you and Fred, the rain always helped you sleep, but the youngest Weasley disagreed.
Slowly, the bedroom door creaked open further. She held onto her hippogriff plushie tightly, eyes full of worry. “Mummy?” she quietly asked into the room as you stirred in your sleep, slowly recognizing the voice. “Mummy? Daddy?” she called out again.
You woke up, sitting up straight to see your baby girl standing in the door way, fear in her eyes as she clung onto her plushie. Thunder rumbled outside as Daisy gasped, scared of the noise. “Daisy? Baby, what’s wrong, petal?” you asks, sleep laced in your voice.
She ran to the side of the bed as lightning flashed, you scooping her up in your arms as she held onto you tight, shivering lightly. Sadness coursed through your body as you realized your baby was afraid of the storm that was outside. “Aw, my flower,” you cooed as you rocked her back and forth, her sniffling into your chest. “It’s okay, my love,” you speak, kissing her head.
Fred rubs his eyes and realizing that his daughter was crying into his wife’s chest. Panic rises in Fred’s voice, “Is she alright? Do I need to call a Healer? Muggle doctor?”
You shake your head no. “Our little Daisy Gin is afraid of the storm,” you whisper to Fred who nods his head. “It’s alright, baby. Mummy and Daddy are here,” you flip yourself around so Daisy can see her father. “See? We’re here, petal. Everything is alright.”
Daisy sniffles as she looks at Fred and gives him a timid wave. Fred smiles sadly at his princess and speaks, “Hello, flower. The rain woke you up, huh?” Daisy nods her head. “Bloody rain. Should I yell at the rain? And tell it to stop bothering us?” he asks, still groggy, but you can hear the smile in his voice.
Daisy giggles and nods her head as Fred rises from the bed and walks over to the window, opening it up mid-storm despite your protests. He sticks his head out of the window and screams out, “Hey! Rain! Go away!”
Your daughter laughs madly in your arms as you can’t help but chuckle. Surely the neighbors think you have lost your minds. Fred shuts the window and climbs back into bed as you and Daisy’s laughter fades. However, the laughter is replaced with another shriek from Daisy as lightning strikes and thunder rumbles. She retreats further into your chest as you rub her back, kissing her head.
An idea pops into Fred’s head as he opens his arms for Daisy to curl into. He clears his throat and starts, “I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day. When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May.” Your heart instantly melts at the sound of Fred singing to your daughter like he did the day she was born in the hospital three years ago. “I guess you’d say what can make me feel this way, my girl,” he sings as he looks to you to join him.
“Talkin’ ‘bout my girl,” you join Fred as the three of you lay in the bed, Daisy cuddled in between the two of you, her sniffles fading. You continue to sing until her eyes start to flutter close and her mouth emits small snores. Slowly, you fade out as she is soundly asleep. Fred brushes his little girl’s hair out of her face with a soft smile. You are too occupied looking at Fred and how he stares at your daughter, your heart racing. As if he couldn’t be a better dad.
Fred looks at you with a smile. “I love you,” you tell him with a small shake of your head. “I love you so much.”
“I love you so much more, my dear,” he speaks before placing a kiss on the tip of your nose. “You’re my world. The two of you complete me. My girls.”
With that, you and Fred cuddle up to your sleeping daughter, falling asleep to the sounds of the rain.
prompt: after fred’s death, you can’t help but see his face in everything you do
pairing: fred weasley x fem! reader
warnings: this fic has to do with fred’s death and coping with a parted love one. please do not read this fic if you believe that the content is sensitive and could trigger anything for you. this fic deals with death, loss of a loved one, depression, anxiety, food, mentions of war, and fear of death. please take care of yourself and read the fic with caution. i love you.
song can be found here; recommended to listen before or during your reading :)
The night was still. Untouched. You didn’t dare to breathe as to not disturb the air surrounding you, remaining as still as possible. Laying on the bed, facing the ceiling, you didn’t dare move from this position. If you closed your eyes and concentrated hard enough, you could still feel the imprint of his body in the mattress. The scent of him still lingered on the sheets and pillowcases as you clutched onto them tighter, closer to your chest as you squeezed your eyes tighter shut. Maybe if you squeezed them hard enough, you would wake up from this sick, sick nightmare.
But no matter how hard you squeezed your eyes, each time you opened them you were in the same place. Same bed. Same time line. And you were still alone. Without Fred.
There was a gentle knock on the door, but you didn’t bother moving from your position on the bed. Instead, you called out a weak Come in and the door gently creaked open to reveal a just as exhausted George. He didn’t bother saying anything because there was nothing left to say. Instead, he walked over to the bed and laid down in the empty space next to you. And for a moment, George’s body looked like Fred’s. But it wasn’t Fred. Fred was gone.
With a small sob escaping your lips, you retreated into George’s side as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. You let the cries ripple throughout your body, shaking to you to your core. George bit down hard onto his bottom lip, trying to not break out into his own sobs like he has been doing time and time again. The flat felt so empty without Fred. He didn’t need to tell you that because you knew that George felt the loss of Fred’s presence just as much if not more than you. George gently rubbed your back as you took fistfuls of his shirt in your hands, sobbing into the fabric as it absorbed the salty tears.
You throat burned and eyes stung from all of the crying over the past week. The crying never subsided. If anything, it only grew as more time passed. It was just so unfathomable that he was gone for good. He wasn’t there to give you a kiss good morning, scoop you up from behind, peppering you with cheeky compliments. No more sneaky glances from across the shoppe when he saw you come in on lunch break. No more long conversations at three in the morning when you both couldn’t sleep, so you laid there and pontificated about everything and anything. No more plans for the future and how many kids Fred wanted versus how many you wanted. No more Fred. And that was the scariest part of it all. You not only lost your love, you lost your best friend.
George silently cried as he rubbed your arm before placing a kiss into your hair. “It’s so hard,” he spoke through his tears which only made you cry harder into his chest, holding him tight. “I don’t know what to do.”
The two of you remain in Fred’s bedroom, laying on his bed until the crying ceases momentarily. When it’s quiet again and the sobs have subsided, you peel yourself from George’s comforting embrace to sit up and look around the room. Fred’s things were still scattered throughout the room, no one dared to touch them. Thinking if they did, it would somehow disturb the timeline. Like if you moved something, it meant that he was really gone. The chair in the corner had a small suitcase, opened up to reveal a few items of clothing that he had packed away. His promise. Fred had told you after the war that you two would get away from London for a while. Leave England temporarily. Go somewhere where you two could elope and finally breathe. The suitcase just reminded you of your plans and the thought made the all too familiar lump in your throat rise.
You sharply turned away from the suitcase to look at all of the other things. The pictures that were framed of you two, on holiday, from school, from trips to the Burrow. Happy times. Happy memories. When the two of you didn’t worry about losing the other. When you were just happy with the way life was. If you closed your eyes, you could hear his melodious laugh in the kitchen of the Burrow as he sat on the counter, swinging his lanky legs back and forth. That smile. The dimply grin that could make traffic stop. Your darling Fred.
“I see him everywhere, George,” you croak, your throat sore for crying. You licked your chapped lips with your tongue before turning to look at George. “In everything that’s light and gay,” you say with a small smile, “I see him, smiling and laughing. That’s how I remember him. Always happy.”
George sits up slowly and smiles, his eyes bloodshot from crying. “He was always happy. Rarity that you ever saw him cross,” George speaks as you chuckle with a nod. “Freddie would want you to remember him that way,” he tells you genuinely as you look at George with a knowing smile. He was right. Fred wouldn’t want you to remember that sad times. He wouldn’t want you to dwell on the last nights you spent together, crying in fear over the war. Fred would want you to think of the fond times, the special memories you created over your years together. Those were the memories that Fred wanted you to remember him by.
Weakly, you rise from Fred’s mattress, your body aching and sore. Your lower back and neck on fire from spending most days curled up crying. George slowly did the same before breathing in deeply as you mimicked his actions, the two of you preparing to get ready to head back to the Burrow. The two of you agreed that you couldn’t bare to live in the flat just yet. You needed to be around family, around life, around loved ones. And right now, the Weasley family needed each other more than ever.
“I just need some fresh air,” you tell George as you enter the living room. “Before we go.” George gives you an understanding nod before you exit the flat, descending the stairs and pushing the door outside. The warm June air engulfed you as you stepped outside onto the streets of London, the familiar feeling of being outside in the sun made you feel a little better.
The streets were quiet, not nearly as occupied as they once were. A few travelers here and there, some groups of young teenagers walking in groups, keeping themselves busy with light chatter. Whatever it was, it was better than being cooped up in that bedroom, relishing in your own sadness.
You walked down the cobblestone streets, pulling your zip up closer around your body, watching your feet walk in your dirty trainers. You watched your surroundings, eyes landing on a small café that sat humbling on the road. A few occupants inside kept to themselves, sipping on coffees and teas, reading papers or books or just watching the London streets before them. As you looked inside, you almost did a double take. Sitting at a small round table was a tall redheaded man. But of course, not your Fred. It was an older man, with round glasses and a narrow nose and plump lips. Not Freddie. You shook your head, preventing yourself from staring.
Practically everywhere you looked, you saw him. In the café, the parks, the children in the street, in the reflections of store fronts. Fred was everywhere and it only reminded you about how much you missed him. How your heart ached for one more moment with him. You wished so desperately you could holds his face in your hands and smile at him with a kiss on the tip of his nose. You wanted to tell him one last time how much you loved him and how you swore you would never find someone else. He was your forever and it would stay that way until you look your last breath.
Your feet took your further down the road as you inhaled the lovely summer day into your lungs. Fred loved days like this. Warm, but not too warm, with a light breeze. On days like this, he insisted on going for long walks where you two would just hold hands and talk about the future. As you walk along the path, you smile to yourself as you think about one walk you had with Fred. The two of you started playfully arguing about what you would name your first child and how many you would have. Fred insisted on having five kids at least. He wanted to raise a family like his parents did. But the thought of more than two kids made your mind reel. “It’ll be so much fun! The house will always be full! We’ll never be alone!” he would insist, poking at your sides. Your retort always being, “That’s the problem! We’ll never be alone!” which would always make Fred throw his head back with a laugh.
The memory brings tears to your eyes yet again, but you swallow them back before realizing how far you had walked. With a sigh, you turn around and start walking back to the flat, knowing that George would be patiently waiting for your return.
And as you suspected, George was sat in the living room, look at something quietly on the couch. He didn’t hear you come in and you were sure to be quiet as to not to disturb his thoughts. As he sat, you realized in his hands was a picture. In the frame was a picture of him and Fred, right outside of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes both smiling as wide as they could as they hugged each other. You smiled to yourself, recognizing the moment. It was the day they had bought the joke shoppe and received the keys. It was the happiest you had ever seen them both. It was their dream to start this business together and on that day, their dreams had come to fruition after hard work and relentless trying. Your stomach sank as you thought about George. He not only lost his business partner, best friend, and brother, but he lost his twin. His other half. The person who helped find himself. George lost a piece of him.
“I see him everywhere, too,” George speaks up before looking at you, tears brimming in his eyes. “I try not to go into the joke shoppe too often otherwise I hear his voice. I see him behind the counter or at his office desk. He’s always there. In every thing I do. I see him,” he says as you slowly walk towards him. “I see him in all the old familiar places. I can’t not see him.”
You kneel down next to George and take his face in both of your hands. George looks exhausted. Dark circles cloud his brown eyes and his face is plagued with sleeplessness. “Maybe it’s a good thing we always see him,” you try and support him. “Maybe he’ll letting us know that he’ll always be with us everywhere we go.”
George smiles softly before managing to speak, “He’s quite the distraction.” You two let out a weak laugh before he takes a deep breath in. “Let’s get going now, shall we?” You nod and both rise to your feet. George links your arms before two of you apparate to the Burrow.
Within moments you are in the living room of the Burrow. The Burrow, rather than teeming with life, was quiet. There was only the small chirping of birds, the sound of running water from the sink, and quiet footsteps here and there. George and you walk into the kitchen to find Molly sitting at the dining room table, cup of tea in front of her that was cold. It was obvious she had been sitting there for some time, unable to move. Her face was tired like George’s, but perked up when she saw her son and you enter the room. “My darlings,” she croaked as your heart ached. “I’m so glad you’re home,” she scurried over to George who hugged his mother tightly, not letting her go. The two of them stood in their embrace for a few moments, Molly rubbing her son’s back comforting him when she probably needed more comforting than anyone. She had been so busy making sure everyone else was okay that she didn’t check up on herself. She peeled herself from George, placing a kiss on his forehead. “Hello, dear,” she cooed at you as your heart ached at seeing your love’s mother again. It had been a few days since you had seen Molly, but you missed her company more than ever. “Oh, darling, come here,” she spoke, noticing how the tears welled up in your eyes again before you did. Molly pulled you into her arms as you held onto her tight. She placed one, two, three kisses to your temple as you sniffled into her knit sweater. “You’re home now. It’s okay.”
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The day trudged on like it was walking through mud. It took forever for the sun to set, but eventually the familiar warm colors of the sunset filled the Burrow. You sat on the couch, Ginny laid on your lap as you looked down at her, she looking up at you. Ginny gave you a sad smile, reaching up and touching the tip of your nose. “Honk, honk,” she teased which made you giggle. Fred had always done that to you for years. It was one of his little “things” he did with you. No matter where you were, what you were doing, Fred would poke your nose and say honk honk. One time in Potions class when you were fifth years in the middle of an exam, he reached over the desk and poked your nose with a cheerful honk honk which just made Professor Snape confiscate his exam and send him to the back of the room as you stifled laughter.
You shook your head and look up at the clock. Seven o’clock. The hands on the clock that represented each Weasley all pointed to home. Except for Fred’s. Fred’s hand had fallen off of the clock after his passing. Arthur had found it on the floor a few days ago and had put it on a chain. George now wore Fred’s clock hand on his neck, that way Fred was always home with George.
Looking back at Ginny, you speak, “Reckon we stay up tonight? Get some snacks, hang out a bit?” Ginny nods with a small smile as you sigh. You had spent too many nights crying and wallowing in your own sadness. You needed a change of pace and maybe tonight was the night for some change.
The time slowly passed and soon enough, the moon had replaced the sun in the sky, the moonlight trickling through the window in George’s room as you, Ginny, George, and Ron sat on the floor, smiling and chuckling as you snacked on the pile of food in the middle of the rug. You took a bite of the licorice twirl, twirling it around as George told a story of one time where he and Fred set off Dungbombs in the Slytherin locker room, making them all late for their quidditch match. Ron held his stomach in laughter as Ginny smiled at the memory. She always pretended to find her older twin brother’s pranks childish, but deep down she loved how they both had the ability to bring such joy and life to the room. That was what she missed most about Fred, the life in his eyes. How his youth was never dying. Fred could age and age all he wanted, but he would still have that childhood glee that glistened in his eyes proudly. She missed that most about Fred.
“I don’t know how you lot got away with that one,” Ron wiped his eyes from tears of laughter. It’s been a while since this group was crying from laughter. George sighed before popping a Jelly Slug into his mouth. The room dies down from laughter and settles into what was a familiar understanding that the dynamic was so different without him.
You rise to your feet and walk to the window, looking up at the moon and how brightly it shone in the dark sky. You smiled gently at the bright moon and thought of your Fred. Even in the darkest times, Fred was always there, bringing in the light. Fred was your moon. And you were his sun. Both chasing after the other in the sky.
“(Y/N)?” George’s voice calls. “You just got up all of a sudden.”
Without turning around or peeling your eyes from the moon, you speak, “You know where I see him the most, Georgie?” George just stays silent as Ron and Ginny look at each other, confused as to what you were talking about. “The sky. I find him in the morning sun and when the night is new, I see him in the moon. I know, I’m looking at the moon, but I’ll be seeing Fred. He’s always there in the sky, watching me. Watching us,” you tell him and Ron and Ginny, turning around to see them. They all look at you with soft smiles. “Everything reminds me of him. But especially the moon.”
You turn back around to look up at the moon as it’s silver beams shine down on the Burrow through the window and onto your face. George appears next to you at the window sill, leaning out of the window, looking up at the moon. Soon enough, a soft smile is on his face as he sighs. “I like that. He’s the moon. He’s always watching over us,” George tells you as you smile.
Ron and Ginny file in next to you, all four of you looking up at the sky, moon beams illuminating your faces. As you look up at the moon, you can see Fred’s face. You see his brown eyes, filled with love and adoration. You see his dimply grin and you can hear his chuckle. You can feel his arms hug your waist as you close your eyes and inhale deeply. Fred was with you. Even though he wasn’t physically with you, you knew that he would find ways to be with you. And Fred, clever as he was, found the moon.
As long as the moon was in the sky, Fred would be with you. Always.
It was like pouring salt into an open wound. You forced yourself to look at Fred, how happy he looked as he linked arms with Angelina in the hallway, smiling widely, whispering something into her that made her throw her head back with laughter. You tried to convince yourself that making yourself watch them showed him that you weren’t heartbroken or sad or sorry for yourself when in reality, you were trying to cover up the fact that you were miserable. The wallowing feeling of jealousy and sadness ate away at your stomach lining as you nibbled on your bottom lip, trying to remain composed as they passed you in the corridors.
After they were out of your sightline, you let go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in as George places a hand on your shoulder. “You can’t keep beating yourself up about this, (Y/N),” he wraps his arm around your shoulder as you lean into him with a pained groan. “I know it’s been difficult for you, but it’s been two months. No need to dwell on someone like my brother. It’s not worth your precious time, darling,” he tells you as you walk down the halls of the castle, making your way to the Great Hall.
With a huff, you look up at George who gives you a knowing look. He was right, but at the same time, there was no way he could understand the kind of pain it was to be so heartbroken, but still so head over heels for someone. “I can’t help it, George. It’s not something I can just get over. I didn’t just have a crush on Fred. He felt something too or else what happened that night wouldn’t have happened...” you trail off, the memory of that night playing in your head as you cringed to yourself.
Spirits were high as music blared in the common room. Laughter and celebration was in order. A great quidditch game was just won by the Gryffindor team against Slytherin and that meant a common room party unlike any other. Lee Jordan pushed the couch against the wall, clearing the space for a dance floor as Ron and Harry started pour up stiff cups of Fire Whiskey, Daisyroot Draught, and Gigglewater.
“Georgie, put on something that people can actually dance to! Enough of the bloody Cotton-Eyed Joe!” Lee groans out as George bursts out into a fit of laughter, changing the song to something more universally enjoyable. “The Macarena is not acceptable either!”
Fred grabs a drink as people filed into the common room behind him, filling up the space quite quickly. Your heart flutters at the sight of Fred, but you bury your face in your cup as you take a swig of whatever liquor Ron had poured for you. “Oh come on, Jordan, the Macarena is a fan favorite!” Fred laughs as you shake your head, Fred dropping his left eye in a wink, making you gulp and avert your eyes as if it were wrong to look at the tall ginger.
Lee rolls his eyes and makes his way over to the boom box. “You both are dickheads, I’ll man the music,” Lee groans before switching the music to ABBA as people cheer out as the music fills the space. “See? People like ABBA. Not the fucking Macarena.”
Soon enough, everyone has a drink in their hand and is on the dance floor, screaming out the lyrics to Mamma Mia so loud that you could barely hear the original music that came from the boom box settled in the corner of the room. Instead of joining the masses on the dance floor, you kept to the side lines, sipping on your drink as you made conversation with Katie and Alicia, laughing at a joke Katie had just told. Every once in a while you would look at the dance floor, watching Fred as he jumped up and down, holding onto his brother and Lee, laughing as the liquid in their cups sloshed around. You smiled to yourself, seeing how happy they all were, especially Fred. The way his dimple-y grin caused a grin to appear on your face as you watched his every move.
Fred was one of those crushes that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop liking him. You tried distancing yourself, but that only made the feelings grow stronger. And it didn’t help that you were close with his family. Whenever you were with George, Fred had managed to weasel his way into the conversation. If you were with Ron, Fred would always pull you away so you could hang out with “the more exciting Weasley.” No matter what you did, the crush to Fred Weasley stuck.
You shake away your thoughts as you turned your attention back onto the conversation with Katie and Alicia. Looking down at your cup, you see how empty it was. “I’m gonna grab another drink, anyone want more?” you survey the girls as they shake their heads. You make your way to the drink table, passing the dance floor before reaching the punch bowl. But before you could pour yourself another drink, you feel a pair of hands grab your sides, squeezing them abruptly, making you squeal out. “Oh my days!” you grab your chest as you turn and see it was just Fred. “What the hell is wrong with you,” you slap his arm with a small smile on your lips.
He laughs, “Why aren’t you on the dance floor? I know you can dance, (Y/N),” he teases you as you roll your eyes. Fred places your cup on the table and grabs your hands, trying to pull you to the dance floor.
“No, no, no,” you groan in protest, pulling away from him. “I’m not dancing, Weasley.”
Fred has a cheeky smile on his face as he gives you a look that screams, Oh come on. “You know you want to,” he sing songs. “Your favorite song is playing too!” he tells you.
Furrowing your brows, you speak, “No, it’s not.” He holds up a finger before the song switches abruptly to Dancing Queen as the crowd cheers out in excitement. You give him a look, knowing that Fred had planned this. “Oh, you cheeky bastard. You can’t play this song and expect me to stay still,” you laugh as Fred joins in, wrapping his arm around you, the two of you running to the dance floor.
The two of you start scream singing the lyrics to the ABBA classic, Fred twirling you on the dance floor into his chest as the two of you rock back and forth to the music. You can’t help but sport the goofiest smile. You couldn’t be happier in this moment. You were in your favorite place with your favorite song playing, dancing with your favorite boy. Fred brought you close to his body, hips moving against yours as your heart rate escalated, face flushed. You would blame it on the dancing even though it was definitely a consequence of your close bodies.
“I’ll give it to you, (Y/L/N),” Fred speaks close to your ear. “You are the dancing queen.”
With a giggle, you reply, “Don’t you forget it, Weasley.”
As the song fades away in the background, the two of you just look at each other, small smiles on both of your lips as you take the other in. Fred’s hair was messy from dancing, but it was still pushed back to show his handsome face and strong features. His lips were curved up in a smile as he looked into your eyes, his big brown eyes filled with tenderness. He looked so happy and a happy Fred was a beautiful one.
You didn’t even know how long you two spent looking at each other, but it didn’t matter. In this moment, you were the only two people in the common room, the music still blaring as students didn’t stop dancing and singing and laughing. But it was all a blur in the background, Fred your only focus, and you were his.
It wasn’t until his forehead was pressed against yours that you noticed he was leaning down, pulling your faces closer together. You inhaled sharply through your lips as he made contact with your forehead. “Is this o-”
“Yes,” you cut him off sharply before he waits no longer to press his lips to yours as you melt into Fred completely, pulling his body closer to yours as his hands grab either side of your face, cupping your cheeks. The kiss was everything you had imagined. His lips tasted of sweet cinnamon that warmed up your cheeks and sent tingles down from your head to your toes. Fred’s lips moved gently against yours, his tongue sliding past your parted lips as you started softly snogging on the dance floor. Neither of you cared who watched or didn’t watch, right now this was about the two of you.
Fred gently pulled away, keeping his forehead pressed against yours, hands still cupping your cheeks as you smiled from ear to ear. He was silent for a moment. But then he didn’t say anything. He just pulled away, removing his hands from your face as you looked at him, a little puzzled. “Freddie?” you speak gently, reaching out for his hand.
But he didn’t let you touch him. He just spoke, “I need to take a step outside for a second.”
Before you could protest, he dashed through the maze of people and pushed the door to the common room open, disappearing. What just happened? Panic dashes through your veins as you follow him out of the common room and to the stairs. “Fred!” you call out for him as he turns around to see you standing there confused as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
He chuckles, “What’s wrong? (Y/N), I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
Your heart sinks and your mouth falls agape for a moment before you manage to speak, “What?”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you and I’m sorry for putting you in that position. It was wrong of me. You’re my best mate and I just royally fucked things up for us, didn’t I? I don’t want this to change anything between us,” Fred walks towards you, searching your eyes for hope for your friendship.
You smile gently and grab his hands. “Fred,” you start, “It’s not your fault at all, stop apologizing.” He exhaled, relieved. “But...I, um, I want things to change between us,” you confess as Fred gives you a puzzled look. “Fred, I like you. I’ve liked you for so long and when you kissed me I was so thrilled that you felt something too. Even if it was for a second.”
Fred sigh and stutters for a moment, looking down at his feet. “Good Godric,” he speaks just above a whisper as you force him to meet your gaze as you look at him, hopeful that he will reciprocate those feelings. “(Y/N)...” he gives a breathless laugh as you bite your bottom lip in anticipation. This would be his confession. He felt the same too. He had to. Or else he couldn’t have kissed you. “You mean everything to me. You’ve been my closest friend here for so long. But I’m afraid that’s all I see you as. My friend...I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you felt that way about me. I wouldn’t have kissed you if I knew.”
Your heart sinks to your feet as you peel your hands away from him and look at him with complete and utter heartbreak slapped all over your face. Fred immediately feels guilty when he sees your eyes become glassy. He tries to speak for himself but you don’t let him. “I have to go,” you speak breathily before running back into the common room, The Winner Takes It All blaring through the speakers. How fitting.
You couldn’t let anyone see you like this, so you ran straight to the girl’s dormitories, trying to avoid sorry eyes and worried glances. The tears flow freely down your face as you scurry to the stairs, hearing your name being called out by an all too familiar voice. But you don’t let yourself stop. You run up the stairs, away from it all. Away from him.
The night haunted you like some sort of sick joke. George knew how much it bothered you, so he tried his best not to bring it up. But seeing you so upset over something as silly as a crush on Fred made him upset. “Something you surely know about Fred is that is a damned idiot. He does a lot of things he shouldn’t,” George tells you as you lightly laugh. “But you can’t let him get the best of you.” You knew he was right, but you couldn’t help but morn this crush you’ve nurtured for so long.
And now Fred was able to move on like nothing happened between the two of you. You avoided talking directly to him, rather going through a sibling to talk to him indirectly or just ignoring him when you were in a group setting. But if he talked to you, you put on your brave face and flashed him a smile like nothing was wrong. This only encouraged Fred to move on as well and as a result, Fred was now taking Angelina Johnson to the Yule Ball.
“I just can’t believe he could bounce back like that though,” you speak as you walk into the Great Hall for lunch. “I mean really? He’s taking Angelina to the Yule Ball, one of our mutual friends, and he expects me to be fine? I don’t know. It just doesn’t sit right with me, Georgie,” you confess as you plop down at the table, letting your head hang in your hands.
Katie gives you a confused look before looking at George. “Is this about-”
“Yes,” George cuts her off as Katie nods her head, sipping her pumpkin juice. “Listen, forget about them, alright? It’s done. It’s over. You’re going to go to the Yule Ball, you’re going to look fucking fantastic, and you’re going to dance your ass off and have the time of your life with your hot date,” George shrugs as if it were a matter of fact.
A short curt laugh escapes your mouth. “Sounds great, George. Only problem is that I don’t have a hot date,” you give him a glare.
He smiles. “Of course you do. It’s me, you git,” he nudges you. You burst out laughing as Katie joins you, the two of you clutching your sides in amusement. “Hey! I make a hot date!” George exclaims over the laughter. “Besides, we have a great time together. We’ll take nice pictures, I’ll dress up for you, I’ll treat you like a proper lady. It’ll be fun. But expect no kisses. None of that will be happening,” he tells you with a shiver as you smack his arm. “It’s nothing against you! You’re just like my sister.”
“Yeah, yeah, fuck off, will ya?” you speak with a small smile as George chuckles, giving you a nudge. “Fine. We’ll go together to the Yule Ball. My dress is winter white, if you care. And please, don’t bring me one of those ugly corsage things.”
George smiles, “Aye-aye captain.” You sigh and start picking at the food on your plate. “Now you’ve got everything you need for the perfect night out. Aren’t you glad you’re going to the ball with me?” he asks as you roll your eyes, mimicking him.
“Who would agree to go to the ball with you?” a voice asks with a sneer grin in their voice.
Looking up stood Fred with Angelina by his side as they took their seats across the table. Your heart starts beating faster as you just look away and pick at the chips on your plate. George, reading your body language, speaks up for you. Thank Merlin you had a best mate who knew you so well. “(Y/N) is. We’re going as mates, of course, but figured we’d both have the best time that way,” George beams, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you give him a smile.
Fred laughs, “That’s one way of putting it. (Y/N), if you need help getting out of it, blink twice,” he teases you with a grin as you gulp.
“Actually I’m really excited to go with George,” you exhale. “Might as well go with someone who I really care for then go with a date that I need to impress and don’t know that well. I reckon we’ll have a ball,” you wink to George who rolls his eyes, laughing at your awful joke as you smile.
Fred just watches the two of you chuckle together as he slowly nods his head. Katie interjects and speaks, “Reckon you chose the cuter Weasley twin too, (Y/N).”
You look at Katie knowingly and join her laughter as Fred calls out in protest, “Oi! Bell, piss off!” Katie spits a raspberry at him before scooting closer to you as you lean into her side. At least you knew George and Katie would have your backs.
Angelina looks at Fred, linking her arm in his yet again, “I think you’re still cute, Fred.” Her words make your stomach curdle, but you don’t let the expression show on your face. Instead, you continue to eat your food and distract yourself with a conversation with George about what he’ll be wearing to the ball.
The entire time you distract yourself from Fred, you can feel him steal glances at you, monitoring how you spoke to George, throwing your head back as you laughed, grabbing onto his arm as he leaned into you. You and George were mates, nothing more nothing less, don’t get that wrong. But still something about the interaction made Fred jealous for whatever reason. Regardless of how Fred felt, you couldn’t let yourself care. Fred had moved on and it was time for you to move on as well and enjoy a dance with your best friend.
--------------
“A few more pictures and then we can get going. Mum will have a cow if I don’t send her any,” George tells you as Katie groans as she plays photographer. “Oh, quit the bellyaching, Bell. Just two more.”
George stands behind you and places his hands on your hips as you place your hands over his, the two of you smiling as the camera flashes and snaps more pictures of the two of you. “My cheeks hurt, are we done?” you huff.
“Yeah, yeah,” George huffs. “Thanks, Bell,” he tells Katie as the group of you gets ready to leave the common room and head down with the masses to the Ball.
You run your hands down the front of your dress. The winter white silk clung to every curve of your body, the deep v necklace showing off your smooth skin. It wasn’t everyday that you got this dressed up; you almost felt out of place as you ran your finger through your hair, toying with the style you chose. “I look fine, right?” you ask George as you two link arms, headed to the ball.
George scoffs, “Fine? Fine? You look bloody gorgeous.” You smile fondly at George leaning into his side. “I’ve got the most beautiful girl on my arm, I feel like the luckiest guy in the world,” he nudges your arm as you chuckle. “I’m serious, I’m glad that we can go to the ball together, (Y/N).”
Looking at George with kind eyes, you speak, “I am too, Georgie.” George presses a kiss to your temple as you walk down the stairs, arm in arm. “Ugh, why couldn’t I have a crush on you and not your bloody fucking twin,” you speak through gritted teeth as George laughs.
“Would that be any better?” he looks at you knowingly as you huff. “That’s what I thought. Come on, you, I wanna show you off to Lee,” he giggles excitedly as you roll your eyes.
As you make your descent down the stairs, you scan the room. Everyone was dressed sharply in suits and beautiful ball gowns. Everyone looked phenomenal. And that’s when you saw him.
Perfectly tailored black suit. New. His hair slicked back, his gloved hands running through his hair. His hand held Angelina’s, but his eyes were all on you. You suddenly felt very aware of yourself in the space, but you didn’t let that throw you off balance. Instead, you held your head higher and smiled around at the people by you. But his eyes didn’t move from you. It was like you had him in a trance. A trance he had no intention of breaking.
When you reached the bottom of the stairs, you were greeted by Lee. “Wow,” he speaks. “Absolutely brilliant. You look incredible,” Lee beams. “And you look alright, (Y/L/N),” he teases as you roll your eyes, making George laugh. “I’m joking, you look phenomenal. I don’t know how you managed to get her to agree to go with you.”
George shrugs, “I have a gift, Jordan.”
You give George a look, “A gift for what? Behaving like a moron? In that case, yes, you have a very special gift.”
Almost on cue, a voice speaks from behind you saying, “You look great,” making you turn your head. You meet Fred’s gaze and you give him a soft smile while gulping. There he stood in his suited glory, Angelina clinging onto his arm, looking absolutely breathtaking. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, they made a very attractive couple.
“Thank you. You as well,” you say politely even though he did look absolutely ravishing. “You look lovely, Angie. Your dress is stunning.”
Angelina smiles and thanks you as the four of you just awkwardly stand there in a lull of silence. You look over to George, hoping he would take the hint and diffuse the tension. George notices your panicked stare and clears his throat, “If you don’t mind us, (Y/N) are going to go tear up the dance floor now.” He pulls your hand away from Fred as your eyes linger on him for another moment longer. “That wasn’t awkward at all,” he whispers to you. “In fact, that went better than I thought it would go.”
You sigh, “Don’t remind me. Now enough about them. I don’t want to think about it. I want a glass of punch and I want to dance.”
George squeezes your hand with a giddy smile. “Atta girl. Come on then.”
The entire night, you spent it surrounded by George, Lee, Katie, and Alicia, jumping around to the live music, laughing and smiling. It was your mission to forget about Fred and who he was dancing with, instead paying attention to your friends and how much fun you were having.
Katie grabbed your hands and pulled you into the lot of students on the dance floor as you twirled her around, making her giggle wildly. The two of you pressed against each other, dancing to the wailing live band as people sang screamed along to the music. You were having the time of your life and Fred became the last thing on your mind, too busy letting the music ripple through your body as you let your hips swing to the music.
But then the music slows down and over the mic the lead singer says, “Alright everyone. It’s that time of the night to grab that special someone and take it nice and slow.” With that, the band starts playing a slow song and soon everyone is in pairs, smiling at their date with eyes of adoration.
Katie huffs, “Well, that’s no fun, is it?” You laugh and push her arm, teasingly.
You feel a tap on your shoulder and see a bent at the waist George, offering you his hand. “M’lady,” he teases as you roll your eyes, accepting the extended hand with a smile. “I’ll try my best not to step on your feet.”
“Oof, that will be hard considering you have fat feet,” you tease him as he chuckles. One of George’s hands rests on your lower back as the other holds you hand delicately in his, you resting a hand on his shoulder.
The two of you begin to sway back and forth to the music as you sigh, scanning the ballroom, trying to inconspicuously look for that couple. “Don’t look for them, (Y/N). You know it’ll just make you upset,” George tells you.
But as the words leave his lips, your eyes land on them and your heart sinks into the floor beneath your feet. Angelina is giggling as Fred spins her around and pulls her back into his chest. Fred is chuckling as he holds her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. They looked so happy together and that’s what made you feel so upset. “Too late,” you huff as you watch Fred duck his head down, placing a kiss onto Angelina’s lips as you suck in a breath sharply. He kissed her just as he kissed you that night in the common room.
You turn away from the sight and look directly ahead of you, pretending you saw nothing with a shake of your head, but your eyes were fogging up with tears. “Don’t cry over him,” George squeezes the hand that rests in his. “We didn’t come here for you to cry over a boy. We came here to have fun. Crying isn’t any fun, is it?” he tries to catch your gaze as you give him a sad smile. “I don’t like seeing my best mate upset. Yeah, that’s right. My best mate.”
With a soft laugh, you take a deep breath in and calm yourself down. “You’re right. You’re right. We came here to have fun. I’m perfectly fine. I’m perfectly happy,” you tell George who gives you a reassuring wink as the two of you continue to sway. But with every passing moment, you keep wanting to look at them. What were they doing? Were they still dancing? Were they laughing? Were they kissing? What did Fred do?
Inevitably giving in, you turn and look at them again and see Angelina resting her head against Fred’s chest as they sway. Her eyes are closed peacefully as she listens the sound of Fred’s heartbeat mixing with the serene music that plays. But Fred on the other hand is looking right back at you. His eyes are fixated on the way his twin brother holds you in his arms, his jaw lightly clenched as you look directly back at him. Your eyes are full of pain that you try to blink away, but Fred knows how you are feeling. There was no place to hide. Fred Weasley knew you too well. “Look away,” George tells you as he follows your line of sight.
“I can’t,” you manage to sigh out. “He gets the very best of me.” You look at Fred’s eyes and how they stare deep into you. He knew that you wished it was you resting on his chest, and somewhere deep inside he wished the same. You avert your eyes from the boy and turn to George and speak, “Could we go outside? Get some fresh air?”
George nods, “Absolutely. Come on then.” You link your arm with George and start making your way out of the ballroom and away from the happy couples. Away from Fred.
The two of you make it out to the courtyard that was beautifully decorated with roses and mixed winter flowers as you suck in the cold, crisp air, refreshing your lungs and hot face. The breeze makes your dress bellow in the wind as George leans against the wall as you take a few deep breaths. “Take the time you need,” he tells you.
You turn to George with a kind smile. “I’m sorry I’m pulling you away from the ball. You should be having fun and not worrying about me. Quite the date I am,” you sarcastically laugh as George shakes his head.
“Don’t apologize. You’re not just my date, you’re my friend. I want to make sure that you’re doing okay. That’s my priority. Take the time you need and when you’re ready, we’ll go back in and spike the punch,” he jokes making you laugh. “Eh, why wait,” he shrugs before pulling out a small flask from his jacket pocket.
You laugh, “Of course you brought it with you. Godric, I love that we’re best friends.” George hands you the flask as you take a long drag from it, the warm whiskey trailing down your throat and warming up your chest and stomach. You hand him back the flask with a small grimace, making George chuckle before sipping from it as well. “I fucking hate balls.”
George shakes his head, “Yeah. I’m not too fond of them either. To be quite honest with you, I’d rather go back to the common room and fuck around.”
Your eyes light up. “Can we do that?” George furrows his brows in confusion. “What’s left to do at the ball? Pretend like we’re enjoying ourselves?” you ask. “I know the both of us are just going to drink more and pretend to like the music, so why not just go into the common room and drink more and listen to music we actually like?”
He smiles and shakes his head, “You sure?” You nod your head. “Alright. I’ll go tell Lee and Katie where we’re headed and then we get get out of here.” You smile and George starts walking back inside. “I’ll be back in a flash.”
As George disappears back into the castle, you sigh and look out at the courtyard. It was such a shame. A beautiful night to have a ball, spending a romantic night with someone. It wasn’t that you weren’t having fun with George, because George was always fun to be around, it was just not how you pictured the night going in your head. You pictured yourself to go with someone you fancied, ideally that person was Fred. You imagined that he would have asked you to the ball and you would have danced the night away, ending the night with him asking you to be his. It was a silly daydream though. But still a dream you hoped for none the less.
However, the memory of that night in the common room sat in your stomach like a rock. The feeling of being told that you weren’t what he wanted made you feel ill. You never wanted to feel like a second choice. You wanted someone who wanted you just as badly as you did. But apparently that wasn’t Fred.
“What are you doing out here alone?”
Without turning around you knew who it was and you wouldn’t dare look at him. Not right now. You had already seen enough of him. “Shouldn’t you be with Angelina?” you snap back, not intending to sound harsh, but the words came out that way regardless of intention.
You start to walk into the courtyard, allowing yourself to become distracting with the beautifully bloomed bouquets of flowers. The sound of Fred’s footsteps follow you into the courtyard as you gulp. “I saw you leave and I wanted to make sure that you were alright,” Fred tells you as you roll your eyes. “You’re still my friend, (Y/N). I care about you.”
With a small sarcastic chuckle, you reply, “Right. Good to know you care about me.”
In the distance, the roll of thunder sounds as you look up at the sky. What was once a clear night sky now becomes cloudy. But instead of retreating to the castle, you walk further into the gardens. Fred allowing himself to do the same. “I know that things have been complicated between us, (Y/N), but that doesn’t mean we can’t work this out. We can still be around each other without feeling awkward,” he tries to reason with you, but you simply keep walking away from him. You hear him groan before running ahead of you so he can look at your face. You abruptly stop when he appears in front of you. “Please, (Y/N). I can’t have you walk out of my life. You mean so much to me.”
You look at Fred’s apologetic face, but you don’t buy an ounce of it. No matter how much you wanted to take his hands in yours and tell him that you forgive him because you love him, you fight agains the urge and speak with a scowl, “You should have thought about that before you went along and kissed me.” Fred sighs and scoffs. “You know how I feel about you, Fred. And you’re choosing to pretend like I didn’t tell you. Do you know how uncomfortable that is?” you ask him genuinely.
Another rumble of thunder sounds as you look up at the sky with a groan, walking away from Fred again and deeper into the garden. But rather than Fred giving up, he follows you, chasing you through the maze of flowers. “How do you think I feel seeing you come here with my twin brother? Laughing and dancing and being around him constantly? You think it doesn’t make me uncomfortable?” he asks.
This makes you stop dead in your tracks and spin around to look at him. “You’re joking, right?” you scoff as Fred just looks at you. You huff out a laugh, bewildered that Fred would go so far to suggest that you had a thing for George. As you rub your hands over your face, you feel a drop from the sky hit your skin. Great. “George and I are friends!” you emphasize as Fred rolls his eyes. “You think I’m so calculating and manipulative that I would go after your twin? After you rejected me?” you spit at him.
“I don’t know what you think, (Y/N)! All I know is that when I see you with my brother it...does something to me. And I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like it,” Fred pulls at the roots of his hair as you frustratedly groan out. It was if the universe was feeling the same way; another rumble of thunder sounds as more droplets start falling from the dark sky.
You take a daring step towards Fred and say, “Well, I can’t help that your ego is so fragile that you get jealous that I’m having a good time with someone who isn’t you.” Fred rolls his eyes and runs hand over his mouth, shaking his head. You couldn’t believe that the two of you were having this conversation. With a burst of confidence, you yell, “Because you know what, Fred! I can’t keep pining over you! It makes me miserable! I’ve been doing it for so long and it’s exhausting. I can’t keep living like this, it makes me infuriated with myself. And now that I know that I have no chance with you, it’s pointless!” Fred runs his fingers through his hair and opens up his mouth to say something, but you cut him off, “But that night you kissed me...you made me think that we had a chance. A real chance. But it was all a lie, huh, Fred? You just wanted to take me out on a test drive before you committed to me.”
Your words make Fred’s heart sting and it’s evident by the look on his face. Your words were harsh, but it’s what Fred needed to hear. He was trying to string you along still when you didn’t want to be. And that’s when he explodes, throwing his hands in the air, surrendering, “I didn’t mean to kiss you that night in the common room! It was an honest mistake, heat of the moment! You weren’t a test drive, (Y/N)! Who do you think I am?!” he exclaims as you just shake your head. “I didn’t know you liked me! If I had known-”
“If you had known, you what? You would have found out eventually. And what were you going to do? String me along like some lovesick puppy?!” you exclaim, the lump in your throat rising as the rain starts to fall faster. The rain dampens your hair and the silk of your dress starts to absorb it. “Regardless if you knew I liked you or not, you still kissed me, Fred, and you can’t take that back! You kissed me! But instead of facing the problem as what it is, you’ve distracted yourself with someone new,” you protest as you allow the lump in your throat to burst as tears start to fall down your face, mixing with the fresh rain.
“That’s not fair to say,” Fred shakes his head, taking a step closer to you.
“No, what’s not fair is you being mad that I’m trying to move on!” you exclaim now, speaking through your tears, pushing Fred’s damp chest. He stumbles back at you continue, “What’s not fair is you telling me I can’t do what is best for me! What’s not fair is that no matter how much you hurt me or reject me or surround yourself with other women, I’ll still be head over heels for you, Fred Weasley! I’ll still want you even though you don’t want me! I’ll still be hopelessly devoted to you!” you confess with a sob, turning away from him, covering your face with your arms as you inhale shakily.
Fred doesn’t dare move a step closer to you. Instead, he stands there, listening to the rain pour down, hitting the tender Earth, the wetness absorbing into his fresh pressed suit. “What...do you mean?” he asks, genuinely confused.
With an exasperated laugh, you yell out, “I’m a fool! I’m a fool whose willing to sit around and wait for you!” pulling on the roots of your hair, you vomit everything you’ve been holding in. “I’m out of my fucking head, Fred! My mind is screaming to forget about you and move on, but my heart is telling me to not let go of you! You’ve pushed me aside! Completely! And I don’t know what to do! There’s nothing left for me to do!” you scream out in the pouring rain, the two of you completely soaked standing in the garden. Your chest is heaving in the rain as you just stare at Fred who looks at you, so sad and so torn up. But he is silent. For the first time in a long time, Fred Weasley is speechless.
In a more calm voice, you speak out in the garden over the rain, “I will always be foolishly and hopelessly devoted to you. And I’m sorry. So if I can’t let you go, you’ll have to be the one to do it.” Fred is still silent as you scoff, knowing that he can’t find the words he wants to say. He just stands there in the rain, hands in his pockets as you shake your head, pushing past him, through the garden to get back to the castle.
“(Y/N)!” he calls out as you ignore him, only picking up your pace as you run out of the courtyard and back into the castle. “(Y/N)!”
As you enter the castle, you see George who looks at you confused as to why you were suddenly drenched, but the rumble of thunder behind you answers his question. But that didn’t answer why you were crying. And then Fred runs into the castle, also completely drenched, and George puts together the puzzle pieces. Katie, who stands next to George, gives you a sad look before speaking, “Let’s get you dry.” You run into Katie’s arm, crying as she rubs your back and guides you up the stairs to get back to the common room.
George just stands there, looking at his twin, shaking his head. Fred looks at his twin, not knowing what to do now. Does he chase after you? Does he take care of you? But next to George stands Angelina who looks at him completely confused. Fred sighs, knowing that he’s really gotten himself into trouble. And there was no easy escape out of it.
Back in the common room, you have changed into cozy pajamas and are adorned with a fuzzy blanket as the fire roars, warming you up from the freezing rain. Katie sits next to you, rubbing your back as you rested your head on her shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We can just sit here, have a drink, and listen to all the music you want,” she speaks as you nod against her shoulder. Lee hands Katie a cup to which she hands to you as you take a small sip of.
Lee turns on the boom box in the corner, gently switching through songs before the intro to Dancing Queen starts playing. The sound makes you sit up straight, reminding you of that same damned night as you speak up, “Change the song.” Lee gives you a confused look before switching the song to something different.
Katie gives you a puzzled look as you pull the blanket around you tighter. “I thought you loved that song.”
“Not anymore,” you sigh. “He ruined that too.”
-------------------
The days had gone by slowly but surely. Each day you separated yourself more and more from Fred and tried to keep interactions limited. But it was all difficult since seeing George meant seeing Fred. No matter what though, you knew that Katie and Alicia had your back, giving your hand a squeeze under the table at the Great Hall as he walked in with George.
Even though you knew the chances of you and Fred ever happening were down the toilet, you couldn’t help the fact that your heart still fluttered at the sight of him. Your stomach still did somersaults at the mention of his name. When you saw his silhouette in the hall, your heart raced with excitement and anticipation. But you couldn’t let yourself give into him.
You sat in your room one night, writing in your journal, keeping yourself busy as Alicia rose from her bed and put on her shoes. “I’m going to head down to the common room to meet up with Katie. We’re gonna study in the library. You wanna come?” she asks with a smile.
“I think I’m going to stay in. Thanks though,” you tell her before she slips out of the room. The door closes behind her as you shut your journal and huff, resting your arms on your shoulders.
Rising from the bed, you look out of your window and look at the beautiful Scottish scenery that was slowly being covered in snow. It was gorgeous, the green grass being covered in powdery white snow that shimmered in the late afternoon sun as it set in the horizon. You smiled to yourself softly as you watched the snow fall from the sky.
It brought you back one of the days it snowed three years ago. George had pounded on your door to put on snow shoes and your jacket. He insisted it was packing snow, perfect snow for a snowball fight. Of course, you had gotten ready in a flash, you, the twins, Katie, and Alicia all running outside of the castle to hurl snowballs at each other, laughing and squealing as the cold snow hit your skin. You remember Fred sneaking up behind you and dumping a chunk of snow down your shirt as you yelped out before smacking him with a snowball as he cackled. With a sneaky smile, you jumped on his back and did the same, shoving a snowball down his shirt as he yelled out, the cold snow melting against his warm skin. “Oh, you’ll pay for this one, (Y/L/N),” he called as you ran away from him with a giggle.
The memory made you smile, but was soon interrupted by the sound of pulsating music coming from what sounded like the common room. “What the hell?” you whisper to yourself as you slowly start to register the music as ABBA. “Good Godric,” you huff as you realize that Dancing Queen is the song being blared from the common room. You angrily slip on a pair of trainers before opening the door and making your way down the stairs. “Ever hear of the silencing spell?” you grumble.
As you descend the stairs, you start to call out, “Oi! Some people are trying to study! Would you knock it off?”
But as you reach the bottom of the stairs, you stop in your tracks as Fred stands in the middle of the common room, the boom box blaring ABBA, in his hands, a hand picked bouquet of the flowers from the courtyard. The same ones from the Yule Ball. Your eyes meet Fred’s as he turns off the boom box. “Fred,” you speak quietly.
“Hey,” he smiles at you. “I, um, I want to make a grand romantic gesture like they do in those muggle movies. I don’t know how successful the execution was. But it’s the thought that counts, right?” he gives a shaky laugh as you gulp, looking at him puzzled as to what this all was. Fred inhales shakily before speaking, “Angelina and I are over.” Your eyes widen and your heart stops. “Look, (Y/N). I haven’t been able to sleep since the Yule Ball. And I know that what I said to you that night was so uncalled for and so childish and stupid of me and I will forever be sorry for it. But what you said. About being hopelessly devoted to me. That keeps playing in my head on repeat.” You fold your arms across your chest and awkwardly shift your balance, trying to stay calm at his words. “And you said, since you can’t get over me, that I’ll have to do it. But truth is, (Y/N), there is no getting over you,” he sighs with a hopeful smile as you look up at him, heart beating against your rib cage. “I’m not letting go of you. I’m holding onto the very end of it all because you’re the one that I want. I want you and you only. And it took almost losing you to realize that. And I’m a dickhead for not realizing it earlier, but I’m just hoping that there is a part of you that still wants me,” he tells you as you look at his trembling hands, a small smile forming on your face.
You walk towards him slowly until you are face to face with Fred, looking into his worried, but hopeful eyes. You smile and pluck the bouquet from his hands as he lets out a breathy chuckle. “Nice flowers, Weasley,” you tease him as he smiles.
Fred puts one hand on your hip, pulling you close to him as he cups your cheek with the other hand. “I’m not saying we need to dive into things right now, if you want to take things slowly, then I’m more than happy to do that,” he tells you as you sigh. “I want to prove to you that I will be completely devoted to you, angel. I want to prove that I’m not going anywhere. I can’t hide it anymore. I am devoted to you.”
A goofy grin appears on your face as you give into Fred’s touch with a sigh. “Freddie, I do want to take things one day at a time,” you tell him as he shakes his head, still overjoyed at the thought that you would still have him. A small giggle escapes your lips. “You are quite adorable when you’re excited,” you tell him as he rolls his eyes. “I’m out of my head for you, Weasley.”
Fred pulls you impossibly closer to him as he sighs, “I’m head over heels for you, my darling.” And slowly, Fred presses his lips against yours as you melt into his touch. For once, things felt right.
A/N: I did this with my friends the other day :) And I’m sorry, this isn’t the best
:(((
“Freddie! You’re making it too big, it’s not gonna fit on the first ball,” Y/N whined as her boyfriend eagerly pushed the rolling ball of snow. They’d already put together the first part of the their snowman, but the second part was quickly becoming too large to fit on the snowman’s ‘legs’.
Fred ignored her, he rolled the ball up to the snowman, hoisted it up and plopped it down. Now they had two snowballs stacked on one another. Except the top one was much much bigger than the first.
“Fred, it looks ridiculous,” Y/N argued. Fred gasped.
“Excuse me, but Mr. Flake is not ridiculous,” he replied, making Y/N giggle.
“Mr. Flake? That’s the best you could come up with?”
Fred waved her off as he started rolling a third and final ball of snow. Y/N quickly copied him, packing snow in her hands and setting it on the ground. The two raced around the yard, each trying to get theirs to be the right size before carrying it over to the snowman’s body. It ended up that both of them ran over at the same time. Y/N reached up and tried to place the head, but Fred was quicker...and taller. He set the oversized snowball on the body and stepped back to admire his work.
“You’re a meanie-” Y/N was cut off by Fred scooping her into his arms and twirling her around.
“Fred! Put me down,” Y/N screamed while laughing and clutching onto Fred’s neck for her life. But Fred only smiled as he pulled her close.
“But you’re so cute, I just had to hold you,” he replied with a pout.
“We haven’t finished the snowman though.” Fred sighed and reluctantly placed Y/N back on her feet. She promptly ran over to the snowman and reached into her pocket for the carrot, rocks, and little hat. She methodically placed each item in the right spot and finished it off with the little top hat.
“Done! Mr. Flake is now able to see, smell, and taste, all thanks to me,” she said proudly. Fred chuckled and pulled out some sticks from behind his back.
“Did you forget about arms, darling?” He smiled and let Y/N shove the sticks into the side of the snowman, successfully completing it.
“There. Now he’s done. He looks quite spiffy, don’t you think Freddie? Y/N asked, turning around to find her red-headed boyfriend nowhere to be found. “Freddie? Where have you gone?”
Just as she was turning her head, she heard a loud whoshing sound. When her head faced forward, it was met with a snowball flying right towards her face. Y/N had no time to duck and her face was promptly covered it cold, wet snow.
“Y/N! I’m sorry, darling. I wasn’t meaning to aim for your face, are you alright?” Fred asked, his hands on her shoulders and his eyebrows knit together in worry. But Y/n was giggling as she wiped the snow from her eyes.
“That was a good one, haha. It wasn’t too hard, no worries, Fred. How about we go inside though? I’m sure your mum has some hot chocolate ready to go.”
“I bet she does,” Fred replied before pressing a soft kiss to Y/N’s cold lips, instantly warming them up. Their snow day had been a successful one in his eyes.
Request: Can you please write something with a female reader from a different country thats friends with and crushing on Fred and she can’t afford to go back to her home country to visit her family so Fred invites her to come to Texas with her to see Freds family or something?
Requested by: Anon
Warning: Mention of homophobia.
You had moved to the U.S. from your home country a year or so ago. It had been quite an adjustment at first. Angel investigations had taken you on once they realised you were fluent in several demon-languages. You had studied extensively when you lived back home.
You arrived at a similar time as Fred returned from Pylea. You bonded instantly. Fred was a sweetheart, and you adjusted back into life together. She leaned on you, she trusted you instantly. There was a calming aura around you and ever since she returned she leaned on you. You became close friends.
You both moved into Angel’s hotel and spent most days and nights together. You whispered through your traumas, comforting each other. You would often share a bed, cuddling together. So close with her arms draped around you.
You told each other it was platonic, it was because you needed each other. Cared about each other. You could only sleep so long as the other was in bed beside you.
But you both had feelings growing inside. Such deep and unending feeling they made you dizzy. Neither of you spoke of the way you felt, because things may change. And change frightened you both. Because you had gotten comfortable in your routine. In the way that you lived now, together.
Your friends tried to nudge you into speaking about your feelings, everyone knew that you were in love. It was plain as day.
Angel had asked you to come into his office. It was coming up to Christmas and everyone was discussing their plans in the main room. Fred was talking about going back to her parent’s house which is something she hadn’t been able to do in a long while.
“Y/n, I’m only asking you in here ‘cause we’re friends… right?” he added that on the end a little unsure and you nodded with a little smile.
“Right!” You assured him with a small smile.
“I’m not great with advice, but I just wanted to say somethin’. If you, uh, don’t mind” He started, you and Angel had become close and he wanted his friends to be happy, “You and Fred, you’re meant for each other. I’ve seen a lot and it’s not often you find something like you have with her”
“You can all tell, can’t you? That I like her?”
“We can tell you love each other. Go for it, at least some of us deserve to be happy” He murmured, alluding to the low mood of the rest of the team and himself.
“I don’t want to push her into anything… she’s special” You said softly. Angel nodded, staring into the distance as if he knew the exact feeling you harboured intimately. You were about to speak, offer him a friendly ear if he wanted to talk when there was shouts for you both in the other room
Another case. Another demon to fight.
You managed to complete the case after a lot of hardship. The demon had terrorised the hotel, taking all of the decorations and incinerating them in the melee.
When you were all sat around, exhausted surrounded by piles of smoking ash, most from vampires and the rest from the Christmas trees, Cordelia commented that at least you had the holidays to look forward to. Angel had insisted everyone take time off.
You were very quiet at this. You had thought about going home but it just wasn’t possible this year. The cost of tickets and the guilt you’d face should something horribly go wrong in California.
Fred saw you thinking, your brow furrowed slightly and she worried. She slipped her arms, looping them with your own as she leaned against your shoulder. Your eyes kept closing, you were blinking slowly. She whispered, telling you it was time to go to bed.
She led the way, taking your hand in hers as everyone watched you go. They understood and had stopped commenting on your affection. They had all silently agreed to let you figure it out naturally.
You slid into bed and she got in beside you. Your arms were open for her as they always here. She cuddled up to you, settling in her usual place. The space between you felt smaller and smaller each night.
She spoke softly, recounting her day as you managed to stay awake long enough to speak your mind too. She asked then, after a moment of silence what was troubling you. About the season.
And you explained, near poured your entire heart out about all your emotions. You were suddenly wide awake and retelling every worry and anxiety you had over leaving and returning home.
You couldn’t bare it if it had changed at all and yet if it was the same it would perhaps be harder to return. Los Angeles was your adopted home now, you wanted to see everyone but the cost was too much and she frowned.
You didn’t wish to be alone but you weren’t able to go. You couldn’t explain it any other way.
As you slept, she started thinking about her own thoughts. She had been reluctant to leave you, she had felt torn between her family Christmas and spending time with you. As the light of dawn started to filter through, she made a decision.
Once she realised you couldn’t go home for Christmas it wasn’t even a question that you would come with her. She had bought the tickets without thinking and insisted that she couldn’t celebrate without you there. You meant too much.
She of course gave you the choice, but you didn’t even have to think about it. You said yes, instantly.
You left together on the plane. You touched down on Christmas Eve. You felt like you might see Santa himself as you flew through the sky. It was a wonderful sight and she held your hand almost the entire way. She gushed and gave you her entire family history as you made your way there.
You went straight to her parent’s house. They had seen her since she returned from Pylea but not very often. They were so excited that she was coming for Christmas.
You walked over the threshold and were immediately greeted by her parents. They presumed you were dating already by the way she spoke about you. Fred had come out already when she was younger and her parents were so lovely about it.
“Aw, y’all look so cute together!” Her mother smiled wide and hugged you both at the same time.
“Mom, it’s not like that” There was a little glint in her parents eye as they exchanged a look at her words. It was only a matter of time, in their eyes. Fred then walked towards her father smiling, “Hey Dad”
She hugged her Dad as you smiled at them both. They both embraced you as if you were already family. They were so friendly and so down to earth - you loved them. And luckily, they absolutely loved you.
You had an evening meal. In the Burkle house, the Christmas Eve meal was almost more important than the one the next day. Because it was usually the three of them, making it more intimate with the extended family arriving tomorrow. Apparently there was a lot of them. Her Mom had been working hard to cook and her father had laid the table for you all.
You set your bags away and washed up before you ate. You smiled at Fred’s childhood home before you descended the stairs again and sat around the table while Mrs Burkle served up. You complimented the way the house was decorated and had her mother almost blushing at your words.
As the meal went on, there were plenty of subtle prodding to see what kind of relationship you were truly in.
“We’re so pleased to finally meet you, Y/n. Fred has said so much about you on the phone” Her father nodded as he chewed on his meal.
“You know our neighbours down the street have two adopted children now. Isn’t that wonderful? They’re amazing Moms” Fred’s Mom continued to gush as Fred shifted slightly at her words despite her best intentions. She then leaned into the table a little more to say to you, “Our Winifred has always been such a caring soul, we’re glad she’s found someone just as kind”
“Oh, thank you Mrs Burkle. This meal really is amazing” You smiled as Fred slipped her hand under the table, resting her hand on your thigh. She kept it there through the rest of the meal, rubbing her thumb every so often. She wanted contact with you, she didn’t want to be away for you for a moment.
After the meal ended, you made sure you assisted Fred’s Mom and helped clear away the dishes.
“And she’s polite too!” You heard her whisper too loud to Fred before she followed you into the kitchen. It made you smile, even if you hadn’t managed to speak to Fred about it alone that at least her family thought you were good enough for her daughter.
You helped wash up and engaged Fred’s Mom in conversation while you assisted her. She made you really smile. You turned to leave, going to find Fred, your heart a magnet to hers. You couldn’t bare to be apart. But her mother took you by the hand, telling you that you are part of her family. That you would always be welcome here.
She also warned you not to mind any of the extended family tomorrow if they say anything rude about you and Fred. In fact, she promised they would be sent out of the house quicker than you could say Happy Christmas.
You smiled at the floor, you really did feel like one of them already. She squeezed your arm again before nodding and letting you go and find your Fred.
You stayed in the living room with her parents for a while before retiring to her childhood room. They provided a camp bed for one of you on the floor, but nobody in the house was convinced it was going to be used that night.
Fred had an idea, she wanted to show you something she would do when she was younger. She opened her balcony. It was only small but she laid blankets out so that you could stargaze together. She rested against the wall and she gestured for you to join her, which meant you were now sitting between her legs. She wrapped you in a light blanket and you nestled together despite it not being that cold.
You and Fred sat together, the cool breeze was welcome. You leaned back, your head resting against her chest. She stroked your hair softly before sliding her hands down to hold yours.
“Your Mom thinks that we’re dating” You said softly, your words so light they danced away with the low breeze that whistled around you. Your hands weaved between each other as you leaned further back against her.
“Mhm, she does that with every friend I’ve had since grade school” Fred chuckled, which was true. But, her Mom had a lot more reason to think so this time.
“She’s going to fight your homophobic relatives for us” You chuckled.
There was a silence. Fred shifted under you slightly. You moved up to sit and turned to look at her. You worried that you had said too much, spoken of it as if it were laughable. You hadn’t meant it that way at all.
She looked down slightly, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she realised what was coming. You could easily hurt her here. Tell her that this wasn’t what she hoped it was.
But, of course you would never do that.
“Fred, I haven’t said anything because I didn’t want to push you, after everything you’ve been through” You began your speech and shuddered despite the lack of cold, these were words you had practiced in your mind for such a long time it didn’t feel real that you were saying them now, “I love you and the biggest gift that you could give me this year would- would be if you would be my girlfriend?” You asked, your voice caught in your throat at the end.
Her eyes shone, watering with all of this emotion. It was made even more prominent in the moonlight. She couldn’t form words, she just nodded yes vigorously. You embraced, wrapped around each other on the balcony, a tear falling from her eye now. This was all she had ever wanted. You pressed your lips to hers, only briefly, there would be a whole night and beyond for more. This moment was yours. And you were going to cuddle under the stars once more.
You held her so tightly, laying her down. You were flat on your back with her tucked into your side now. You couldn’t take your eyes off her now, the stars would be nothing compared to her.
She whispered that she would stargaze at night, hoping that her soulmate would be looking up at the stars too, wherever they were. That one day, she would return to this balcony with the one she loved and share blankets this way. That one of the first weeks, when you had first starting sharing a bed she had pictured watching the stars with you.
You spent the rest of the holiday period, and beyond, exploring your romantic relationship. She took you around the places she used to frequent. You both struggled to leave, this place would be special to you both know. It was perfect and you swore to her from that day that a piece of your heart would always live with hers in Texas.
