#fred weasley

[ivarasite]

FUCK YOU to everyone who's posted memes under the harry potter x reader tag. all there is in the top section of the tag are memes. bitch fuck outta my face i wanna read fanfic not your horrible attempt at being funny🫩

[ladyhelona]

Five More Minutes 

💌 Fred Weasley x Reader

💭MDNI: Sleepy grinding/dry humping smut, clingy!Fred, playful and needy vibes 

— 

Morning at the Burrow never comes quietly, but today it’s muffled — distant clatter from the kitchen, someone laughing downstairs, the faint smell of toast drifting up through the crooked house.

Fred doesn’t move.

He’s wrapped around you like he fell asleep mid-cuddle and never bothered to let go, one arm heavy across your waist, face tucked into the crook of your neck. His hair is a mess against your cheek, warm breath ghosting over your skin.

You shift slightly, testing the stiffness in your shoulder.

His grip tightens instantly.

“M’not awake,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep. “Go back to sleep.”

“You’re crushing me.”

“Worth it.”

You huff a quiet laugh, but you settle again, sinking back into the mattress. He makes a satisfied little sound, something soft and pleased, and noses closer like you’re the pillow he actually wanted all along.

There’s a pause.

Then you feel it — the slow, absentminded way his hips shift forward, pressing closer, like he’s chasing warmth without even realizing it. Not purposeful. Not calculated. Just sleepy instinct.

“Fred,” you whisper.

“Mmm?”

“You’re doing that thing again.”

He goes very still for half a second.

Then, instead of moving away, he drags you closer, leg hooking over yours to keep you pinned there, a lazy grin audible in his voice even with his face still buried in your neck.

“Not awake,” he repeats.

“You are absolutely awake.”

His nose brushes your jaw, lips ghosting the sensitive spot just beneath your ear. “Don’t sound very upset about it.”

You’re not. Not when his hands are wandering now, slow and warm, tracing the line of your waist under the blankets, pulling you flush against him like he can’t stand even an inch of space.

It’s unhurried. Uncoordinated. Soft in that way that only happens when neither of you has fully woken up yet.

Fred hums quietly, pressing a drowsy kiss to your shoulder.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, like he only just realized it.

You turn your head, catching his mouth in a sleepy kiss — slow, messy, all soft lips and warm breath. He smiles into it, hand sliding up your back to hold you there.

“Five more minutes,” he whispers against your lips.

He absolutely does not mean sleep.

Fred’s grin is pure mischief, even half-hidden in your neck.

“What?” he murmurs, feeling the look you're absolutely giving him, and his hips give another slow roll that makes your breath catch. “We’re just … cuddling.”

The lie is so lazy it almost counts as honesty.

You feel him—the unmistakable press of him, hot and insistent through thin sleep-shorts—rocking right against the damp heat of your core. Each lazy rut is unhurried, like he’s savoring every inch of friction, like he’s determined to stay in that hazy place between dream and waking where everything feels too good to stop.

Your fingers find his hair, carding through the soft red mess. “Fred.”

He answers with a drowsy hum, feigning innocence while his palm slides up, warm and sure, under your shirt. He cups your breast, thumb brushing over a sensitive peak, and the sleepy smirk against your throat widens when you gasp.

“Still not doing anything,” he mutters, mouth dragging along your pulse point. The words vibrate over your skin; the next roll of his hips is slower, deeper, dragging a low whine from your chest.

“Liar.”

“Mm-hmm.” He pinches lightly, lips curving when you arch into his hand. “Shouldn’t start name-calling this early, love. Bad manners.”

You try to shift—either away from the teasing or closer to the heat, you’re not sure—but the leg he’s hitched between yours holds you in place, forcing every subtle move to translate into more friction. His next thrust is a little harder, still measured, but need is bleeding through the syrupy pace.

“Fred—”

“Just helping us wake up.” Another lazy rut that makes your thighs tremble. “Feels nice, yeah?”

It does. Too nice. The room is still dim, quilts twisted around your bodies, and each grind lights sparks low in your belly. He cups you more firmly, thumb circling, hips finding an easy rhythm that turns the world into slow, warm pulses of want.

“You gonna let me?” he whispers, finally lifting his head—sleep-ruffled hair, half-lidded eyes, that crooked morning grin. “Let me start your day off right?”

You nod, already breathless.

“Good girl.” His praise is soft, reverent—and the next roll of his hips makes it impossible to keep quiet. Your hand fists in the back of his shirt; his answering groan is pure satisfaction.

He keeps it gentle but relentless: palm kneading your breast, mouth scattering open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, hips rocking until you’re melting against him, every sleepy thrust dragging you closer to the edge. Outside the room, the Burrow creaks awake, but in Fred’s bed the morning belongs only to the two of you—warm fists of sheet, tangled legs, and the steady, needy push of his body into yours like he never plans to let you leave.

Breakfast can wait.

His hand leaves your chest only long enough to tug your sleep–shorts aside—just enough for skin to meet slick heat. The sound he makes is half-groan, half-laugh, all morning-drunk greed.

“Merlin, you’re warm,” he murmurs, rocking forward again so bare, silky friction glides exactly where you both need it. Nothing rushed—just that steady, delicious slide that turns every breath into a shaky little gasp.

You clutch the back of his neck, nails grazing sleep-warm skin. “Fred…”

“I know.” He noses along your cheek, lips brushing your ear. “Feels good, yeah? Give me a minute.” A lazy thrust punctuates the promise, dragging a moan from both of you. “Maybe two.”

A shiver ripples through you when his fingers find your nipple again, rolling gently while his hips keep that slow, rolling push-pull. Each grind sends sparks spiraling low in your belly; each pass of his thumb steals a sharper sound from your throat. Fred laps it up, humming pleased approval, mouth curving against your skin.

“That’s it, sweetheart—there you go.” The praise is husky, slurred with sleep and need. “Knew you’d be this soft for me.”

Your hips answer on instinct, meeting the next rut. The heat coils tight, and Fred’s rhythm falters—just a stutter—before he catches it and groans, forehead pressing to yours.

“Gonna make me embarrass myself,” he breathes, grinning even as his eyes flutter shut. “Can’t be blamed, though… look at you.”

He shifts, hiking your leg higher over his thigh; the angle hits perfectly—pressure sharp, perfect, again, again. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, a soft cry spilled against his mouth. Fred’s breath hitches, the smirk wiped clean by raw need.

“Come for me,” he whispers, voice frayed. “C’mon, let me feel you.”

Two more rolls of his hips, thumb brushing that aching spot just right, and heat snaps—white, sweet, slow-building pleasure washing through you in waves. You clutch him tight as tremors ripple, breath catching on his name. Fred’s curse is a broken rasp; he grinds through your aftershocks, hips stuttering until he follows you over the edge, burying a groan in your shoulder as he shakes apart.

Silence settles—only the soft crackle of the Burrow’s pipes and both your uneven breaths.

Fred noses your temple, lips ghosting a smile. “Best alarm clock I’ve ever had.”

You huff a laugh, boneless and warm, letting him pull you deeper beneath the covers. His arms band around you, greedy even sated.

“Five more minutes?” you mumble.

His chuckle rumbles against your chest. “We’ll make it ten. Mum can live without us a little longer.”

Outside, the day begins, but inside the tangle of quilts and freckled arms, it’s all slow heartbeat, shared heat, and the lazy promise of whatever mischief Fred dreams up next.

[andy-15-07]

hey guys fred weasley throwing my legs over his shoulders and fucks me so good he can’t help but laugh at the puddle i am before him hi

Wicked

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Word count:1149

Harry Potter Masterlist | request (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Warnings: Smut (18+), oral (f receiving), teasing, dirty talk, pet names, established relationship, aftercare, fluff

Fred Weasley had a gift for many things,blowing things up, bending rules, getting out of trouble with a grin,but making you completely lose your mind might’ve been his most potent magic.

You were tucked up in his room at the Burrow,summer air warm, windows cracked open, and the low sound of enchanted wireless humming lazily from the corner. You’d stolen one of his shirts again, the old one from the shop with the neckline stretched and sleeves too big, hanging off your shoulder just enough to drive him mad.

He was watching you from the foot of the bed, eyes raking over your body like he hadn’t just had you the night before. Or the morning before that. Or up against the bathroom sink not twelve hours ago.

You peeked over the top of your book, trying not to smirk.

“You’re staring.”

Fred didn’t deny it. “I am. You look so good like that. All casual. Comfy. Completely fuckable.”

You snorted, but your thighs pressed together.

“Bit needy today, aren’t you?”

He tilted his head, grin wolfish. “You calling me needy? You, who literally screamed my name loud enough last night I think the ghoul in the attic clapped for us?”

You laughed, and that laugh earned a low growl from him. He moved, slow and controlled, like a lion stalking prey,crawling up the bed until he was hovering above you, nose brushing your cheek.

“You calling me needy…” he whispered, dragging his lips across your jaw, “…while you’re sitting here, soaking through my shirt with your thighs clenched and pretending you don’t want me to ruin you.”

Your breath hitched. “Fred—”

“Let me eat you out, Y/N.”

“...what?”

He grinned. “You heard me.”

“Yeah, I just—no foreplay? No kissing? No—”

Fred’s hands were already sliding down your body. “Baby, we’ve been doing foreplay since the minute I saw you in my shirt. I’ve been suffering.”

He kissed down your neck, hands lifting the hem of the oversized tee until it bunched at your waist.

“I need you on your back. Legs over my shoulders. Right fucking now.”

You’d never obeyed so quickly in your life.

He slid your underwear down slowly, teasingly, sucking a kiss to your thigh as he settled between them.

“Look at this,” he said, voice in awe. “You’re already soaked. Merlin’s tits, love.”

You opened your mouth to snap at him,but then his tongue flattened against your clit, and all that came out was a moan so loud it echoed.

Fred groaned, latching on like he was starving. His tongue circled and licked, slow at first, building gradually, fingers digging into your hips like he was holding onto the last threads of control.

He loved eating you out. It was one of his favorite hobbies,up there with Quidditch and annoying Filch.

And he was good at it. Filthy. Passionate. Worshipful.

“Fuck, Fred—please—”

His fingers slid inside you just as his mouth closed around your clit again, and your back arched off the bed.

“That’s it, darling,” he murmured against you. “Let me hear you.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging as you whined, thighs shaking. He didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause.

“Oh—fuck—I’m gonna—Fred—fuck—”

You came hard, grinding into his mouth, eyes screwed shut, legs trembling on either side of his head.

He moaned like he loved it,like tasting you was the highlight of his entire day.

And when he finally looked up, face soaked and smug, you were a breathless, blissed-out mess.

“You good?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You blinked at him. “I can’t feel my legs.”

He laughed so hard he had to lean on the bed for balance. “Holy fuck, Y/N. You’re literally a puddle.”

“Shut up.”

“No, really. You’re like—dripping. If you die, I’m blaming that book you ignored me for.”

You threw a pillow at him. He caught it with one hand and tossed it aside.

Then he was back on you,pulling off the rest of his clothes, lifting your hips like you weighed nothing.

“You think we’re done?” he teased.

You squeaked when he spread your legs and lined himself up. “I—Fred—wait—”

“Just a little more,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. “I’ll go slow.”

But he didn’t. Not really.

Because the moment he sank into you, tight and warm and still twitching from your orgasm, his control shattered.

He groaned like you were the best feeling he’d ever known. “Fuck—fuck—you’re squeezing me so tight—how are you this perfect?”

You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders. “You’re huge, Fred—oh my god—”

His pace started steady, but it didn’t stay that way.

Every time he pulled out and pushed back in, he went deeper. Harder. Faster.

Your legs instinctively locked around his shoulders again, heels digging into his back as he slammed into you over and over.

Your moans were shameless now,raw and honest and wrecked.

Fred leaned down, face close to yours, grinning like he’d just discovered treasure.

“You love it,” he panted. “Being fucked like this. All stretched out and cock-drunk for me.”

You nodded helplessly, tears in your eyes from how good it felt.

“Say it,” he demanded, breath hot on your lips. “Tell me you love it.”

“I love it—I love it, Fred, please—”

“Please what, baby?”

“Don’t stop.”

“Never.”

His hand reached between you, fingers finding your clit again. Your body jolted at the stimulation, already too much and somehow not enough.

“You gonna come again for me?” he whispered, kissing your temple.

You nodded desperately. “Y-yeah—yes, fuck, please—”

“Good girl.”

That pushed you right over the edge.

You shattered beneath him with a scream, body spasming, stars bursting behind your eyes. Your walls clenched so tight around him, it pulled his orgasm out of him seconds later.

“Shit—Y/N—”

He buried himself deep, groaning your name like a prayer as he came hard inside you.

It was messy. Intense. Fucking glorious.

When he finally collapsed beside you, both of you breathless and sweaty and clinging to each other, the room was dead silent except for the ragged sounds of your breathing.

Then, softly:

“Still mad I interrupted your reading?”

You snorted into his chest. “I don’t even remember what the book was about.”

Fred chuckled, pulling you into his arms and kissing your forehead. “Exactly.”

You both laid there for a moment, tangled in sheets and limbs and sweat, before he grabbed his wand and muttered a quick cleaning spell with a flick.

You sighed. “That’s cheating.”

He smirked. “That’s magic.”

A beat passed. Then, softly, Fred looked down at you.

“Y’know I love you, right?”

You blinked. Heat rose to your cheeks. “What?”

He smiled. No teasing. No joke. Just Fred,completely sincere.

“I love you, Y/N. Like... all the time. Even when you’re ignoring me for books.”

You cupped his cheek. “I love you too.”

His grin widened. “Even when I turn you into a puddle?”

You rolled your eyes and kissed him again.

“Especially then.”

[jennieloversclub]

HARRY POTTER FIC REC

Include: Harry , Ron , Fred , George , Oliver , Neville and Cedric

Harry Potter

tied down @hollowdeath

you and harry potter, the biggest flirt at hogwarts, have been secretly hooking up for weeks after playing hard to get. harry's been dragging his feet when it comes to making things official, so when his flirty tendencies get him in trouble, you decide to play him at his own game and win.

harry james potter x fem!reader

words : 3.3k

untitled @hollowdeath

you and harry have been working on a project involving amortentia, the most powerful love potion to exist, and when harry tests your device the night before it's due, he has some rather intense side effects.

harry james potter x fem!reader (18+)

words : 6k

smut / mdni

hopeless , the both of them @lumosflairr

Hermione and Ron watch you and Harry in awe from a distance as you both share a moment in the snow.

words : 0.4k

personal fav !

she loves me @lovel4nita

A flower and a gentle breeze remind Harry that her heart is his.

words : 318

the eye of the snake @dearlizzies

Regulus died. Everyone knew it. Sirius had the same fate, but not without regretting before not having talked to his niece, you. Everyone knows who you are and the story that involves you, a pretty girl at Howgarts, but that was not what attracts the most attention—it’s the fact that you‘re dating the chosen one. Post-war/7th year.

harry potter x Regulus’Daughter!reader

dance pratice @junezsq

professor mcgonagall’s dance class suddenly gets interesting when you have to dance with your best friend turned crush

words : 1.5k

he's like a poem i wish i wrote @fear-less

In which, harry finally confesses his feelings towards his closed off friend.

harry potter x f!reader

words : 2.4k

almost was ours @nocturnao

She was Harry Potter’s constant—his secret keeper, his sanctuary, the girl who stitched him together when the war threatened to tear him apart. A quiet Ravenclaw who stood by him when no one else knew how, she never asked for anything… except maybe for him to see her. But as the world began to heal and the noise returned, Harry reached for the girl who burned bright in public—Ginny—and left behind the one who had carried him through the dark. Years later, when fate crosses their paths again, Harry is haunted by what he lost: the girl who loved him in silence, and who walked away with all the parts of him he never knew he gave. A story of almosts, aching regrets, and the kind of love that gets remembered in every timeline—but never chosen in the one that mattered.

harry james potter x ravenclaw fem reader

day one @darcellexxx

the Boy Who Lived and Draco Malfoy are known to hate each to the core, but what about another Malfoy loving Harry Potter with the same intensity? It’s good that Harry likes the colour red and that he’s a Gryffindor, because there’s no way that he would actually get out of the ‘Harry Potter Wears Lipsticks’ situation without a bit of his smugness. The second best thing is Draco’s expression, after he finds out his darling sister dates his nemesis…

Harry James Potter x Malfoy!fem!reader

words : 2.1k

only by name @slytherinsimp12

Y/N spent her entire life at beauxbatons. Her whole world turned upside down when her mother she never met escaped Azkaban, forcing her to transfer to Hogwarts in her 5th year for her safety. Harry knows he should stay away. She’s a Lestrange, the daughter of the woman who destroyed part of his world. But the more he sees of Y/N, the harder it becomes to believe that blood decides who we are.

Harry Potter x Lestrange!reader

we would have been timeless @fear-less

everyone at Hogwarts saw it coming when you and Harry started dating. To most, you were just another sweet couple. but to the professors, you were a reminder of two people they had lost. In your smiles, your arguments, and the way you looked at each other, they saw echoes of James and Lily. not a repeat of the past, but a new beginning filled with hope.

harry potter x f!reader

beneath the silence @elytriumm

harry has always been more than a best friend to you, but as of late, his coldness and distance have left you wondering if it’s you he’s pushing away. best friends to lovers.

words : 2.1k

green and gold @lumosflairr

when you, a sharp-witted Slytherin express interest in joining Dumbledores Army, you soon find yourself caught between not only house loyalty and what’s right - but an unexpected bond with Harry Potter.

harry potter x slytherin reader

personal fav !

so obvious @junezsq

hermione has always been smart, but you never would’ve thought she’d so quickly figure out who you have a crush on… or were you just being really obvious?

harry james potter x fem!reader

words : 1.2k

baby names @ravenclaws-stuff

with the due date rapidly approaching, you and Harry discuss baby names.

Harry Potter x Longbottom!Reader

cherry pink , cherry kiss ! @mokkiaun

harry loved his girlfriend, but a dream made him wonder if you’d taste better in sweet, red cherry lipgloss— and what happens when your lips appear redder and honeyed the very next day?

harry potter x fem! reader

____

Ron Weasley

steal my girl @yasministration

for some reason, every one in ron's family has been trying to steal his girl, so he has to fight for a moment of privacy with you

words : 0.9k

flustered feelings @angelphie

"ron weasley has been friends with you since you were both children, but he's developed feelings for you and he finally takes up the courage to tell you unexpectedly"

ron weasley x fem!reader

words : 1.3k

don't fall in love with my brothers , please @holysmokesblog

His only request: don't fall for his brothers. But love, sometimes, is the most disobedient of all.

words : 1.7k

i love you first @blondykebarbie

Ron is used to feeling second.

ron weasley x gn reader

words : 538

untitled @slvqtore

you, oblivious as ever, hadn’t caught on to ron’s not-so-subtle signals about his feelings for you.

ron weasley x fem!reader

words : 1.8k

sneaky visits ! @bvrnesher

spending christmas at the burrow and having to sneak around the creaky floors because Molly doesn't want you sleeping in the same room

ronald weasley ! fem. reader

a weasley gift @jijournal

Ron surprises you with something very special in the Weasley household.

blushing in the bookstore @rottenherbs

In a cozy Hogsmeade bookstore, Ron Weasley finds himself smitten with someone he’s never seen before ~ leading to shy glances, soft laughter, and the start of something sweet.

words : 758

not a game @luv4freddie

You were a well known flirt, the Slytherin maneater. But now you’ve set your sights on Ron Weasley, and he’s not sure what to believe.

ron weasley x slytherin fem reader

words: 1.5k

loving him was red @cipheress-to-k-pop

You'll be allowed to date Ron Weasley over Draco's dead body

words : 8.5k

____

Fred Weasley

the trick @ilovelygood

Y/n attends Hermione and Ron's wedding, but decides to bring her deck of cards to prove that, even though she is a Muggle, she can also do magic, catching the attention of a certain red-haired twin.

Fred Weasley x Muggle!fem!reader

little sister , my arse @cipheress-to-k-pop

You were “like a little sister to him”—or so Fred said. Please. Anyone with half a brain could see there was something way more between you two.

words : 8.9k

christmas at the burrow @alexadolly-8

your first christmas at the burrow being fred's gf

words : 669

4me 4me @biscuitz707

It’s Easter break and instead of being home, you’re stranded at Hogwarts prepping for N.E.W.T.s. Stuck studying inside the library, you surprisingly find yourself accompanied by Fred Weasley.

words : 1.2k

amortencia @binchidavinci

‘When you have to make Amortentia in Slughorn’s potions class, the last thing you expect to smell is Fred Weasley; Fred doesn’t expect to smell you, either.’

verituserum @maria021015

Fred, George, and Lee have been avoiding you all day and you’ve had enough. When you blackmail your way into the Gryffindor common room to confront them, you don’t expect Fred to start bombarding you with strange compliments. You definitely don’t expect what comes next.

lingering perfume @yasministration

harry has warned you that if you don't stop stealing his sweaters, he'll tell your parents about your boyfriend. but your parents are very much aware of your relationship, so harry goes one step further.

fred weasley x potter reader

words : +1k

never planned @lqveharrington

you and fred had been friends for so long that it never occurred to the both of you that everyone thought you were dating.

fred weasley x gryffindor!reader

pains and promises @marvelwitchergilmore

A rivalry that has been going on for four years suddenly begins to change when you help Fred's little sister.

Fred Weasley x slytherin!reader

wrong twin @yasministration

for a long, gruelling minute, angelina is under the impression that her best friend has a crush on her boyfriend. but no, that's the wrong twin.

words : +1.3k

"you really can't tell ?" @oc3anlvsu

Fred Weasley has a huge crush on his brother’s best friend, but she’s completely oblivious. Between teasing her about her handwriting, stealing her food, and randomly braiding her hair, Fred thinks he’s flirting — she just thinks he’s annoying

Fred Weasley x Ron’s best friend

____

george weasley

dazed and devoted @lumosflairr

George gets knocked out during Quidditch practice. When he wakes up, confused and concussed, he flirts with his girlfriend like he’s never met her before. And honestly? It’s kind of adorable.

words : 1.5k

cool about it @hunnyisland

When Fred notices you’ve taken a liking to his brother, he formulates a plan to wingman you.

george weasley x gryffindor reader

words : 6k

saint like @rottenherbs

Molly Weasley doesn’t hide her disapproval of you, being George’s girlfriend, it made things awkward every time you visit the Burrow. But when George loses his ear and you care for him with gentle dedication, Molly begins to see you in a new light—slowly warming up and starting to accept you as part of the family.

words : 2.2k

someday @ravenclaws-stuff

Five times George Weasley says he's going to marry you and One time he actually does.

George Weasley x Lovegood!reader

sticky situation @weezyweasleys-fg

A young rivalry blooms between you and the supposedly "quieter" twin of the Weasley family's sons. Despite the teeth-grating relationship you two had grown to have being quite new, things got heated up pretty quickly. Now stuck because of each other in detention with no real way out but getting through with it—burning down the classroom felt better than being stuck in a room with George Weasley.

reasonless hatred @yasministration

Severus snape's daughter causes him nothing but chaos, hatred where love should be in their relationship. but she is finally given a real reason to hate her father, and she decides to give him one to hate her too.

words : 2.6+

patience @kittyminion

george finds a way to entertain you, despite your introverted nature at a party

george weasley x introvert!f!reader

hands @lcvecials

in which george is just trying to have a conversation with you, and you can’t stop staring at his hands.

george weasley x gn reader

words : 0.6k

i won't say (i'm in love) @drowsyhope

You’ve been trying to convince yourself that you do not like George Weasley. sure, he has nice hair, a handsome smile, and those eyes? Yeah, you’re in love — but you won’t say it!

words : 3k

his little fox @rottenherbs

George has spotted a wild fox that has taken to his liking, little does he know it’s the girl he can’t keep his eyes off in the halls.

george weasley x animagus reader

words : 1.9k

____

Oliver Wood

captain's favorite @drowsyhope

being apart of the Gryffindor Quidditch was surely not for the weak because of the captain — Oliver Wood. so, when you came back for your 5th year, you strived to be the best! funny enough, the Prefects keep watch on you for some odd reason?

words : 3.6k

in the background @incantatem

you find yourself in detention with Oliver Wood, who seems to have gone the last seven years without noticing you, or so he thinks.

words : 9k

mobility exercises @yasministration

oliver wood doesn't expect to walk onto the quidditch pitch to find the slytherin team finishing up their post workout stretches. nor does he expect to be flirted with by their captain

words : 1.3k+

a bit suggestive

the chocolate frog conspiracy @toffeetonks

To the students at Hogwarts, Oliver Wood is Gryffindor’s beloved Quidditch captain. But to Y/N L/N, he’s the boy who keeps sliding her Chocolate Frogs during her study sessions... Like sugar can disguise the fact that he’s falling in love with her.

words : 2k

so possessive @lumosflairr

Oliver gets jealous when he see’s you and the twins messing around. More specifically, when they have their hands on you.

words : 0.9k

thicker than a broomstick @jijournal

Quidditch is brutal, but nothing compares to Oliver Wood’s hopeless attempts at flirting—too bad the only person who doesn’t realize he’s asking you to the Yule Ball is you.

words : 2.1k

an A minus @vaanny

remembering your parents’ promise of not letting you come back home for the holidays if you don’t meet their expectations, you find yourself considering an offer that is too good to refuse.

the party & the after party @spencersmopbucket

After three years of dating, you and Oliver come to the conclusion that you're better off without each other. A few months later, at the start of 7th year, you realize just how wrong you were. Oliver had always had a quick temper, but seeing you being flirted with at a post-victory party seemed to push it to new limits.

ye alright ? @nyxthedeity

Everyone's getting struggle in finding a date for the Yule Ball, but for Oliver? Oh, he already got his eyes on someone far longer than the Yule Ball. The only problem is how he's going to ask her out.

Oliver Wood x Ravenclaw!fem!reader

ring @soupandsimple

moments that Oliver’s wedding ring amplify the butterflies in your stomach

the hate game @heartthrobin

 the only thing more grating than Oliver's foul moods and his permanent scowl, has to be the fact that he's so damn pretty. you fucking hate him for it.

oliver wood x female!reader

words : 13.3k

____

Neville Longbottom

gamophobia @cipheress-to-k-pop

Gamophobia (noun) | /ˌɡæməˈfəʊbiə/ An extreme or irrational fear of long-term commitment or marriage, often resulting in avoidance of deep emotional intimacy despite genuine affection.

words : 11.7k

greenhouse blues @ssspark

Neville’s clumsy moment in the greenhouse before class surprisingly gives him a little bit of hope.

Neville Longbottom x Hufflepuff!Fem!Reader

words : 1.2k

obvious enough @yasministration

it seems that the only person in the entire castle who doesn't know about your feelings for neville is neville himself. your signals become increasingly more obvious, but even asking him out to hogsmeade doesn't seem to be obvious enough for him.

words : 1.9k

the alchemy @kyber-crystal

there’s a special sort of alchemy that’s involved in falling in love and finding the ‘one.’ luckily, you don’t need to try so hard—he’s already out there waiting.

words: 3k

my wish @ravenclaws-stuff

Neville makes one wish for his birthday.

palmistry @yasministration

when you begin learning advanced palm reading with professor trelawney, you don't only uncover new truths about you, but those around you — particularly one boy you have your eyes on.

words : 3.3k

yeah , I do @httpvomitello

One day, you looked at Neville Longbottom and saw something new. Something you had never noticed before—the way he had grown, the quiet strength in his eyes, the way his smile made your heart stutter.

neville longbottom x f!reader

between the pages @leturmindwonder

A study session in the library leads to some truths being revealed.

your voice is my favorite sound @yupthisisshe

Nevile begins rambling about plants and Neville apologizes for talking too much. Reader assures him that they do not mind at all.

Maybe I'll make you see through my words and my actions exactly just how much you mean to me. @drearydaffodils

You spend an afternoon in the presence of your lover, and have a sweet date <3

words : +800

____

Cedric Diggory

platitude @artyteah

there's nothing more used and reused than popular students falling for the one student that isn't interested in them. for cedric, it started with curiosity. for reader, it certainly is a bad joke where she is the punchline.

the alchemy @blossominmist

you were hogwarts’ golden couple — both quidditch captains, both prefects, both hopelessly in love. until your family forced you to break his heart. a year later, the feelings are still there, stronger than ever, but so are the rumours about cho chang. when cedric is chosen as hogwarts’ champion, you finally speak to him again. not to win him back… just to help him survive.

cedric diggory x fem!reader

words : 4.9k

personal fav !

where the snow remembers us @taycherouzz

Cedric and you end up in a chaotic snowball fight that accidentally exposes a photo he’s kept of you for years.

Cedric x fem!reader

rough day ? @mmeskywalker

CEDRIC DIGGORY has just gotten done with quidditch practice. a rough one at that. if the word rough even began to cut what that poor man experienced. he’s upset, he’s grouchy, yet he’s completely and utterly yours.

the golden labrador and pretty blues @mokkiaun

cedric diggory was the golden boy of hogwarts, his charming smile and soft gestures had every girl swooning. so what happens when mr perfect stumbles into a sweet and beautifully dazed beauxbaton girl?

cedric diggory x beauxbaton! fem! reader

your champion @rottenherbs

You’re Harry’s sister, close in age and fiercely protective of one another. At the Quidditch World Cup, you meet Cedric Diggory, and the connection between you is instant. Harry disapproves of the budding relationship, worried about Cedric’s intentions—but when the second task of the Triwizard Tournament puts you in danger, Cedric steps in to save you, proving just how much he cares.

cedric diggory x potter reader

words : 2.7k

a lover's ruse @mentally-in-northern-italy

Your agonizing courtship and Cedric’s need to spite his ex are both ailments that have a very simple cure: a fake relationship, obviously.

Cedric Diggory x fem!gryffindor!reader

words : 3.9k

a promise kept @jijournal

Before the Triwizard Tournament, Cedric makes you promise that, no matter what happens, you won’t cry over him. After his death, you struggle to keep that promise—until you find the letter he left behind.

words : 2.3k

only you , my girl @lumosflairr

While you and Cedric are in a happy relationship, some girls can’t comprehend the fact he’s taken and shamelessly flirt with him. While your aware he wouldn’t dare give them a second thought, it hurts a little. However, Cedric being the amazing boyfriends he is - comes up with an idea to cheer you up!

the extended potter family @luv4freddie

now that you and Cedric have gone official, it’s time to finally give your parents what they want. A holiday visit to the Potter home quickly becomes chaotic.

words : 1.1k

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Pains and Promises

Summary: Fred Weasley x slytherin!reader -> A rivalry that has been going on for four years suddenly begins to change when you help Fred's little sister.

Disclaimer: Mentions of periods and womanhood. Rivals to friends to lovers, little bit of pining, Arthur loving muggles, jealousy, 'she's not you' trope, oblivious idiots.

It had all started when the youngest Weasley started school. 

You were in your fourth year at the time, along with Fred and George – the Twin set of Weasley’s that caused more trouble for McGonnagall since the Marauders. And, even if you hadn’t been in their opposing House, you had a strong feeling your relationship with them would have been the same. 

Pure annoyance turned to loathing. 

Mostly the loathing was left for the eldest of the two. Fred Weasley. He’d been the bane of your existence since First year. He was disruptive, rude, loud and just plain annoying. 

Though you couldn’t say the same for their youngest and only sister, Ginny. 

“Stop!” You shouted to the three girls running through the hallways when they should have been inside their study groups at the library. 

The three girls stopped and turned around quickly as you approached. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to run through the hallways-”

“But, you don’t understand-”

“Besides you should be in study groups-”

“It’s our friend!” One of them shouted. 

Only then did you notice their rather panicked expressions as they looked between each other. From your judgements, one had been told not to say anything, the other didn’t want to hurt either friend and the other spoke up. 

“What is it?”

The third one, a brown haired girl, knocked her lightly. “Shush. Ginny said not to tell.”

“But she might be able to help,” the blonde haired girl whispered. 

From their house colours and the name Ginny, you knew exactly who they were talking about. 

“What’s going on?” You asked. 

“Sarah, don’t.”

Sarah looked between her friends before looking back at you. Then she gave in. “Ginny’s in the girl’s bathroom, crying. She said to go and get her brothers.”

“Why is she crying?” 

She might have been a Weasley, but she’d never once acted out like her brothers. And you, too, had once been the first year crying in the bathroom. 

“She’s…she’s started.”

You looked between the three girls. 

“Started?” 

They all nodded.

“Alright. Her brother’s won’t be much help with this.”

“But-”

You nodded. “Still go and get them. Fred and George should be inside the Great Hall. You,” you pointed to the quiet girl at the end. “Come with me. We’re gonna help Ginny.”

Five minutes later, you were inside the girl’s bathroom. You could hear the shaky sniffles of Ginny from the end cubicle. 

“Guard the door. Wait for your friends.”

The young girl nodded, taking her role very seriously as she waited for her friends and Ginny’s brothers. 

You knocked twice. “Ginny?”

“I-I…yes?”

“It’s Y/n,” you told her, your voice calm and soft. “I found your friends in the hallway.”

“I said not to tell anybody!”

“Don’t blame them,” you told her. “Blame me. I forced it out of them.”

“Where are my brothers?”

“They’re on their way, don’t worry. I figured you might want to talk to a girl first. We tend to know more about these things than boys do.”

You heard Ginny sniffle again. “I-I just felt it and I didn’t know what to do. My mum said it wouldn’t happen for another two years.”

“Well, sometimes these things don’t exactly go to plan. But it’s nothing to be scared of. It just means that for one week every month or so, you’re just able to eat as much ice cream as you want and can spend the entire weekend in bed.”

“Y-Yeah. My mum said…she said something about that.” The young girl sniffed again. “But…I don’t know what to do. It’s…I think it’s stained…”

You shook your head. “Don’t worry about that. It’ll wash right out. Do you have any pads?”

Ginny shook her head behind the door. “N-no.”

“No bother,” you said before pulling out your wand and laying your bag on the floor. “Accio.”

From the depths of your bag, a square tin came flying up. Catching it before it clattered onto the ground, you opened it up before passing her a pad under the door. 

“It’s pretty easy to understand. Just open, peel and stick.” You explained just before you heard thundering footsteps. 

“Ginny?!”

“Let him in, Orla,” you called out to the young girl by the door. 

Rounding the corner, you saw Fred Weasley standing at the end of the cubicle hallway. “What are you doing here?”

“Helping. Give me your robes.”

“What?”

“Just do it.”

Pulling the long black robes from his body, revealing exactly what you expected to find – a messy uniform – you called back to Ginny. 

“Ginny, your brother is here. I’m gonna hand you his robes. Just wrap them around yourself when you’re ready to come out.”

“What’s going on? The kids froze when I asked.”

“She’s started her period,” you whispered to him. “She’s a little scared, and probably in pain. Take this,” you said as you handed him your emergency period kit. “There are extra pads in there. If she starts in pain, send one of the girls to Madam Pomfry. She’ll get her some pain medication. And, if it gets really bad, a hot water bottle always helps with the cramps.”

“What?”

You sighed, “Fred, honestly. It’s natural. She’s earlier than she expected, but she’s going to be perfectly fine. You don’t need to do much besides be there for her if she wants you.”

“No, I know that. But…you helped her?”

You nodded. “You’ll be surprised to learn that girls help each other when it comes to these things, no matter the rivalries they have with their older siblings.”

Fred stood in shock as you packed up your things. “Ginny, I’m gonna leave you with your brother, but if you have any questions…feel free to come and find me.”

“O-okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Bidding Fred a silent goodbye, you took your leave and headed back towards the Great Hall, passing a slightly panicked George on the way. 

“Down the hall and to the left. Fred is already there. Ginny is fine, just don’t make a loud fuss.”

George nodded. “Okay. Okay. Thank you.”

Even though you’d told Ginny to come and find you if she had any questions, you hadn’t actually expected her to. Quite frankly, you thought after you left, Fred might have scolded her into accepting your help, telling her you’re nothing more than a Parseltongue Slytherin. 

Surprisingly, he didn’t. Or, maybe he did, but Ginny decided to make her own judgement. 

You were walking out of your dormitory when you heard the end of Draco saying, “...filthy Weasley.”

“Draco!” You shouted as you spotted him standing at the door. “Find something more useful to do with your time before I send your mother a letter about your behaviour. No doubt she’ll send you back a howler.”

Draco turned pale and stalked away with his friends as you turned towards the door to find, “Ginny!”

“I-I’m sorry. I just…I’m sorry.”

She took off running in the opposite direction. 

“Wait!” You called after her, leaving the Slytherin door to close itself. “Ginny, wait.”

Eventually, she stopped and turned around to face you. “I-”

But where maybe she had expected you to be mad at her, you just smiled warmly. “How about we go for a walk?”

Ginny nodded, falling into step beside you as you took her on the quieter walk through the school and towards the benches outside the courtyard. She asked you a million different questions, and you explained everything to the best of your ability. 

How periods were different for everyone, pain could be small or it could be too much to handle. You explained the biology behind it and why sometimes she might feel angry for no reason, or sad for no reason. You also told her how it’s not something she should be embarrassed about, and if she ever is in need of some help, any girl in the bathroom will help…apart from Moaning Myrtle. Mostly because she’s a ghost and can’t do much. 

“I asked Fred and George but they just…went quiet.”

“That’s a first.”

Ginny chuckled. “They’re not so bad. I mean…they tried. How come you know all about this stuff? There isn’t exactly a muggle biology class.”

“You’re right, there’s not. But, I went to a muggle school.”

“You’re a half-blood?”

You nodded. “My mum was in Ravenclaw when she was at school. Taught me everything I know.”

“Even about…this stuff?”

You nodded. “Not because she was a Ravenclaw, but because there was a chance she’d have a muggle daughter. If I wasn’t at Hogwarts, I’d be at an ordinary high school where they teach about it a little more than they do here.”

“Really?”

You nodded. “But just because you know, doesn’t mean you’re not scared. I got mine in my first year, too. But I didn’t have any friends or brothers to help me.”

“So what did you do?”

“Cried.” You answered honestly. “But once I stopped long enough to breathe, I started thinking resourcefully. If I was at muggle school, I’d be in the same predicament. It was no different here than there.”

Ginny nodded, listening to your every word. 

“You’ll find it gets a little tedious eventually. But, you’ll also find it has its own superpowers. Like shutting your brothers up if they’re being far too annoying for you to put up with.”

Ginny giggled and looked out to the empty courtyard. “Thank you, Y/n. It’s nice to have a girl to talk to about this stuff. I have mum but I don’t exactly have sisters.”

You smiled. “If you ever need any help, just come and get me. Don’t be afraid, Ginny. And if Draco starts, just tell him to piss off. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’s more scared of his own shadow.”

Ginny laughed again before spotting her friends. She thanked you once more before running back to her friends, but not before she turned around and surprisingly hugged you, tight. 

“Bye.”

Joining her friends, you sat back for a moment, taking in the quiet and the fact that Ginny had hugged you. You’d always wondered what it would have been like to have younger siblings to help. Was this the feeling? The…happiness?

But it didn’t last long, because barely thirty seconds later, Fred Weasley was jumping over the back of the bench and sitting beside you. 

“Did I just see my sister hug you?”

You turned and looked at him. “What do you want, Weasley?”

“Whoa, hey, hold the hostility for a second. I just wanted to thank you. For helping Ginny yesterday. Like you said, we might have a rivalry of sorts, but…she’s my little sister and you helped her. So…thank you.”

You were slightly taken aback. In the four years you’d known Fred Weasley, not once had your words with him been calm ones. Let alone nice ones. 

“Oh. Well…you’re welcome…I guess.”

“And not to sound like some ‘bone headed, misogynistic ass’ but…you should smile more.” Fred smiled. “Smiling suits you more than scowling. Have a nice day.”

For the first time, you’d heard real sincerity in Fred’s voice when he talked to you. And, quite frankly, you didn’t know how to react beyond stunned silence and the overthinking of, “What the hell does that mean?”. 

Over the course of the year, more and more of those moments started happening between yourself and Fred Weasley. 

First it was with Ginny, then it was with Snape’s potion class and essay; a Slytherin boy had accused him of cheating. But Fred had been stationed at your table the entire time. He hadn’t cheated once. He was…just really good at potions. 

Then came the real change. 

Throughout the year, more and more first and second years came to you for help. They wanted to actually know what was happening to them. So, after the tenth girl came up to you, you’d asked if you could hold a small talk for the girls after classes.

McGonnagall and Madam Pomfry agreed, even making some different and up-to-date pamphlets on the situation. But, the longer the talks were held, you found a few boys lingering outside the classroom. 

At first, you and some of the other older years figured it was so they could snigger and mock the girls. That was, until one afternoon during set-up, you found Fred Weasley sat on one of the rows. 

“What are you doing in here?” You didn’t give him a chance to respond, already feeling tired. “Look, if you’re here to take the piss-”

Fred stood, walking over to you. “I’m not here for that. I wanted to talk to you. About it.”

“About it?”

“This,” Fred gestured. “And about some of the boys. Look, I understand why this is for girls, but I was more in the dark than Ginny was when she started. And I know a lot of the guys in this school have younger sisters or even nieces. They wanna learn, too. They want to know how they can help. It’s not like we’re born with this information, and because we don’t have them, we’re not told about them. I think…I think that should change.”

You were shocked at Fred’s sentiment. But, deep down, you agreed with it. 

“One boy takes the piss and-”

Fred smiled. “I’ll chuck him out, myself. You have my word.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as he held his hand over his heart, though there was no true malice in your glare. “That seems to be true the longer I know you, Weasley.”

“Told you,” Fred smiled. “I’m not all loud and reckless.”

“No, I guess not.” Your voice came out a little distant, as if your mind was making a decision far away from the situation. Then, rather abruptly, you said, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“I misjudged you. I still think you’re reckless…and have a tendency to be loud. But…you’re a good guy, Weasley. Even if you do still get on my nerves every now and again.”

The corners of Fred’s mouth turned up slightly as his own gaze flicked across your face. “Glad to hear it. Wouldn’t want everything to change between us.”

Ignoring the new change of energy between yourselves, you turned away and started laying out leaflets and pamphlets on the chairs, handing Fred half of your pile. 

“Since you’re here, you might as well help.”

Over the week, more guys turned up to the talks. And Fred was true to his word. A third year boy found the entire thing too hilarious, pointing and snickering at the first year girls in the front row. 

So, from the back of his collar, Fred, along with George, hoisted the boy from his chair and set him outside the classroom. 

By the end of the week, and the final talk, Fred was pulled out early by McGonnagall. Though you didn’t know why, part of you felt…sad? Lost? 

For a guy that had annoyed the hell out of you for four years, you were starting to feel something about not having him by your side or at least in your line of vision. 

“Is everything okay?” You asked him, relieved to see him when he waltzed inside as you were stacking the chairs back. 

But he just smiled and held out a letter. “It’s for you.”

“Why are you collecting my mail? You know in the muggle world, it’s illegal to open someone’s mail.”

“It’s illegal here, too.” Fred said. “But it came with my letters from home. And I haven’t opened it.”

“Who’s it from?”

“How would I know? I haven’t opened it.”

Turning it over and opening the wax seal, you unfolded the letter to find Mrs Weasley had written to you. First thanking you for taking care of her daughter, next for teaching her sons and then a final thank you for teaching other kids, too. 

“How does she know?”

Fred shrugged. “Maybe Ginny told her or…” He struggled to find a new lie. 

You watched Fred for a moment, then smiled. “Oh, my god.”

“What?”

You smiled, almost beaming. “You wrote to your mother about me?”

Fred flushed red. “W-what? No.” He tried to laugh it off, but you saw right through him. 

“You wrote to your mother about me.”

“No, I-I didn’t.”

“Whatever you say, Weasley.”

Fred chuckled. “Alright, Y/l/n. No need to be so smug.”

You smiled down at the letter addressed from Molly Weasley. “Nobody’s ever written to their mother about me before. Bad or good.”

Fred felt something warm in his heart. He was proud to be the first. 

“I think they’re still serving tea in the Great Hall,” Fred mentioned casually but quietly. “Want to get some?”

For the first time since knowing him, you didn’t have to overthink your answer. 

“Sure. Love to.”

That night, a small part of your history…or maybe your future…changed. Fred Weasley not only became your friend, but he also became something more. Something that didn’t exactly have a label. Well, not yet at least. But it was there. The…feeling. 

“You sure you’re okay?” 

If a year ago, somebody had told you you’d be studying with Fred Weasley, for your OWLs, in the Gryffindor common room, you’d have said they were mad. Insane, even. 

But it was true. 

A year on from what turned out to be the Diary from Hell for Ginny and other not so dramatic but equally life-changing things, it was true. 

You nodded, “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Fred asked you again. “You look like somebody kicked you under the table in Potions today.”

“Felt like it,” you mumbled, trying to concentrate on your coursework. 

You didn’t say much after that, but you did grow concerned a little when Fred stood up, also without a word. If he did something, he usually spoke about it first. 

And he disappeared for seven whole minutes. Thankfully, a lot of the Gryffindors were used to finding you in their common room, knowing Fred wasn’t too far away. So if any came in, they wouldn’t question your presence. 

“Here.”

Fred returned, suddenly, holding out a hot water bottle.

“It might help.”

With a relieved smile, you thanked him. 

“Better?” He asked as he sat down. 

“Much. Thank you.”

“Maybe you should go to Madam Pomfry. They’re getting worse.”

“I’m fine, Fred. Really.”

Fred just nodded, turning back to his own coursework. But when you gave up on trying to focus on your work, laying on the sofa behind Fred, you sighed. 

“Can you tell what this says?”

Picking the piece of parchment from Fred’s hands, you recognised the writing right away. “Fred, this is your handwriting.”

“I know. Can you tell what it says?”

“How can you not know what you’ve written?”

“Please?”

You read it aloud. “Due to the increasing level of pain being experienced, I suggest the best course of action…Fred. I’m not going to Madam Pomfry.”

“It was worth a try. Just…promise me, if it gets worse, you’ll go. Or else I’ll drag you there myself.”

You laid a hand on his shoulder. “I promise.”

As the years went on, the friendship and whatever the unspoken thing was between both of you only seemed to grow until eventually you found yourself in a similar position, lay on one of the patchwork sofas in The Burrow. 

“Fred, you really need to get neater with your handwriting,” you said as you turned the page upside down for the third time. “Even I can’t tell what this says.”

“Well…it’s not my fault.”

You gave him a deadpan look. “We all went to the same school. Even George’s handwriting is neater than this. I swear, you need to make up your own spell to figure out what this says.”

From the kitchen, Ginny stood beside her brother. “How long have they been like this?”

“Arguing? Years.” George answered. “Lay that close together? Hours.”

“Do you think they’ve figured it out yet?”

“Fred’s handwriting? If Y/n can’t figure it out, nobody can.”

Ginny sighed, hitting her brother. “Not that. The other thing?”

“That they’re hopelessly and forever bound together in the spell of unspoken love?” George asked as Ginny nodded. “No, not yet.”

Ginny groaned before moving on and heading up the stairs. 

“For a guy that is running his own business, you should be able to read your own handwriting.”

Fred shrugged. “For someone that is able to run rings around some of the top lawyers in the Ministry, so should you.”

“Mum says ‘hi’ by the way,” you mentioned to Fred. “She says the papers for your new product should be ready for you to sign on Monday.”

“What time are you heading into the office?”

“Nine.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Meet you outside of the shop at 8? I need to pick up an order at Flourish and Blotts.”

Fred nodded. “Great. We can grab breakfast if you’d like?”

“Yes,” you said. “But I’m picking the place this time. There’s somewhere I’d like to show you.”

“It’s not gonna be filled with stuffy, uptight lawyers is it?”

You chuckled. “No. Just stuffy, uptight muggle public.”

“Muggles?” Arthur popped his head around the corner. “Bloody love Muggles. All their inventions. A multi-coloured pen. Sensational.”

You smiled before turning to Fred who had the same expression on his face. 

Since the very first time you’d met Arthur Weasley, he’d been enamoured with the information you held about Muggles. Apparently he’d met your father once, when he surprised your mother at the Ministry for their Anniversary. 

“Fantastic chap,” Arthur had told you. 

“Here,” you chuckled as you handed Fred his paper back. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

His eyes trailing after you and a light smile spread across his lips, your eyes locked with Fred’s as you climbed the stairs towards the bathroom. Only once you were out of earshot did George lean over the sofa and hit Fred on the back of the head. 

“Oi,” he whispered. “When are you gonna tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“That you want to marry her and have children with her and live out that fantasy dream of your own Burrow home with her.”

“Bugger off.”

“I’m being serious,” George whispered. “Besides, you’d make a great girl dad.”

“George. If she comes down here, she’s gonna freak out and start physically running back home.”

George just smiled. “That’s what you think. I think she’d run into you arms and-”

“She’s not that kind of girl.”

“Please, every girl is that girl.”

“Y/n’s different.”

“She loves you. And, you, my dear brother, love her, too.”

“George.”

“I don’t hear you denying it,” George sang as he walked away, just in time for you to come back down the stairs, fixing the clasp on the dungarees with random patchwork squares. 

Playing Quidditch in the summer with the rest of the Weasley clan one year had resulted in lots of laughter and randomly torn holes in the dungarees you were wearing. 

Now, they were patched back together with random pieces of fabric that, even when washed, still somehow smelled of the comforting scent of the Burrow on a fresh summer’s afternoon. 

“Denying what?”

“Oh, just that Freddie here-”

“George.”

“Needs to go back to school. Fix that handwriting of his.”

By the time Monday rolled around, you were dragging Fred down a busy London street towards your favourite cafe. Despite it being one of London’s busiest times in the morning, the cafe was practically empty compared to those on Westminster Bridge. 

“What can I get for you, dears?”

Placing in a double of your usual order, you left Fred to his own devices. Only, when you returned to him, handing over his to-go bag and tea, you found a woman standing in front of him. 

She was flirting with him. 

“Here you go,” you told Fred as you gave the stranger a rather withering look. 

She smiled, perkily. “Hi, I was just saying to your friend here that he looked a little lost. I’d be more than happy to give him a small tour if you’re in a rush.”

“No,” you answered. “Not in a rush. And he’s not lost. He’s with me.”

“Oh,” she looked between both of you before asking, “Really? I’m sure you’re a nice person but…really? Wow.”

“Okay, we’re leaving.” 

Taking Fred’s hand in yours, you practically dragged him out of the cafe. “What was that all about?”

“Nothing.”

“She was just trying to be nice.”

“She was flirting.”

“No, she-” Fred turned and looked at you. He knew the woman was flirting with him, she’d asked for his number. But Fred couldn’t think why you’d reacted so harshly. Until he looked at you, and it hit him. 

“Oh, my god,” he chuckled. “You’re jealous.”

Your brows furrowed quickly. “I’m not jealous.”

Fred couldn’t help but laugh a little more. “You are insanely jealous. I already told her I don’t have a phone.”

“She asked for your number?!”

Fred smiled as you turned and looked at him, almost as if someone had tried to brand your heart. 

“You-” You cleared your throat, trying to act normal. “Not that I care.”

As the street grew quiet and the red post box came into sight, Fred pulled you aside. “Hey, there’s no need to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous.”

Fred just smiled. “I wouldn’t have said yes. Other than the fact that I thought she was rude, especially to you. She wasn’t…”

“She wasn’t what?”

Swallowing his pride, Fred finally spoke his truth. “She wasn’t you.”

It took a moment for you to register what Fred was actually saying. “Oh. Oh.”

Fred nodded. 

“Well…I…”

“Look, you don’t have to answer it now. Or…ever. You’re my closest friend, and I don’t ever want that to change, and if this does so. Especially if it does so for the worst…I’d rather be by your side just the way we are. You know, if you didn’t…if you don’t…”

“I do.” The words fell out quicker than a golden snitch could fly. “I do. I just…wasn’t expecting it to happen on a pavement in London before…before our meeting.”

Fred felt himself smile. He hadn’t scared you off, so he was off to a good start. 

“Can…can we talk about it after work?”

Fred nodded. He’d waited nearly five years. He could wait a few more hours. 

“Of course.”

“Okay then.” For a moment, you continued walking with Fred walking behind you. But then you stopped and turned back. “Are you sure? About…about me?”

Fred nodded. “My feelings haven’t changed since fifth year. I doubt they’re gonna change now.”

“Okay.” You sounded a little more confident the second time, even though he could still hear your brain trying to process the whole thing. “Okay, then.”

“This really is a good cup of tea.”

“Told you.”

You could be normal for a couple of hours, acting like you usually did with Fred. Just before lunch, he had to head back to the shop and you kept working through some of the upcoming cases. Though, despite the boring case work, you couldn’t seem to wipe the smile from your face. 

Fred felt the same. 

And it was just a matter of time before that unspoken feeling you’d held for him for years, finally would have a name. 

[binchidavinci]

Please can we get a protective Fred Weasley??? Like maybe somebody hits on you and he goes boyfriend mode because he’s like six foot four and muscly AF?

She Said No

(Protective!Fred Weasley x reader)

‘When a guy at the Three Broomsticks won’t take the hint, Fred makes sure to clarify that you’re not available. Of course, this is done with fists.’

The Three Broomsticks is warm and loud, every table overflowing with Hogwarts students on a festive Hogsmeade weekend. You’re crammed into the biggest corner booth with basically everyone: Fred on your left, one long arm draped possessively across the back of the seat behind you; George on his left, stealing chips off Ron’s plate; Hermione opposite you rolling her eyes at the twins; Harry trying to keep Ginny from flinging peas at Ron.

You announce, “I’m going to get another Butterbeer. Anyone else?” Ginny nods her head yes, so you slide out of the booth, heading to the bar for another.

You’re enjoying the perfect chaos as the Landlady pours your drink and chats loudly to other patrons — until a cocky, Hufflepuff seventh-year that you recognise from Quidditch: he once played so dirty that he nearly broke George’s ankle. He shoulders his way through the crowd to the front of the bar, and stops right in front of you.

“You’re even prettier up close,” he smiles, eyes dragging over you like you’re a slab of meat. Then, he actually reaches across and brushes a strand of hair off your face.

You push the boy’s hand away, jolting backward and grimacing. “How kind.” He laughs, leans in closer, and opens his mouth to say something else. He never gets the chance, because you turn on your heel and head back to the table, two Butterbeers in hand.

That is until the boy tries to catch up with you, smirking like you’d just started a game with him. “Just hold on a minute, feisty, I wanted to ask you something—“ As he enthusiastically follows you from the bar, he grabs your elbow and causes you to drop both the Butterbeers.

You look down at the liquid spilled on the floor, the glasses thankfully still in tact. “Jesus Christ, take a hint, will you?” You scowl at him as he raises an eyebrow.

“Relax, I’ll buy you another. I just wanna talk.”

Before you can hit back at him, Fred is already standing up from the booth; at 6’3” he towers over everyone, and the low ceiling causes him to duck under the wooden beamed ceiling slightly. The movement is so smooth it’s terrifying. One second Fred’s beside you, large palm flat on the small of your back as he glances down at your irate expression, the next he’s shoving your pursuer gently by the shoulder. Fred effortlessly traps the boy’s wrist in his hand.

“I think you should just walk away, mate,” Fred says, voice perfectly pleasant. “Hmm?”

The Hufflepuff boy’s eyes flicker to you, then he scoffs and stares up at Fred, already a rival in Quidditch: now was a good excuse to hash it out. In a moment of rage and embarrassment, he swings at Fred’s face. His fist clips Fred’s chin, splitting the skin.

Fred’s expression falters as he registers the sting, stumbling back just slightly in surprise. “Christ, how stupid are you?”

You gasp as Fred slams the boy back against the nearest wooden pillar so hard the whole pub rattles.

“Fred!” You cry.

The boy curses Fred and charges; Fred doesn’t even move out the way, he just grabs the back of the much smaller boy’s neck, and drives a knee into his stomach. Air whooshes out of the guy in a pathetic wheeze. Before he can recover, Fred lands a clean, brutal right hook that turns the boy’s head sideways. Blood begins to flow from his nose.

George is on his feet now too, grinning like he’s enjoying the show. “Mind the furniture, Freddie!”

Ron’s halfway out of the booth ready to jump in, Harry holding him back with a hand on his shoulder and an expression that says this won’t last long anyway.

“Good thinking, George,” Fred mutters, picking the boy up off the floor and dragging him by his collar outside.

You glance back at the booth with an expression that says ‘somebody stop these madmen!’ The five of them spring to their feet as you follow the boys out of the swinging oak doors.

Now fighting on the snowy cobblestones, the boy lunges once more, tackling Fred around the waist, actually managing to drive him back a step; impressive, considering the height difference. They crash into an empty wheelbarrow, splintering wood. Fred grunts, wraps one arm around the guy’s neck from behind and hauls him upright like he weighs nothing.

“Enough, Fred! You’ll kill him!” You shout exasperated, storming toward the pair.

George catches your wrist. “Don’t spoil the fun yet, he’s about to win!”

You roll your eyes at George’s boyishness, then scowl back at Fred who has the boy in a headlock. “You got the message yet, mate?” Fred asks tightly, keeping his arm until the boy’s face. “She doesn’t fancy you, and you’re shit at Quidditch.”

The boy kicks Fred’s kneecap, then throws his head back to try and break his nose. Fred doesn’t dodge in time, cussing under his breath as he keels over and grips his nose with both hands, eyes streaming in pain. The boy, having escaped Fred’s grip, turns to your boyfriend again, eyes-wide and angry, ready to deal another blow to Fred’s usually smiling face.

“You tosser,” Fred snarls as he lunges to deliver a final punch to the boy’s jaw. Fred’s long arm sweeps across the boy’s face effortlessly, and he drops like a sack of bricks. Spire Street returns to its usual evening quiet, noise dampened by the snow.

Ginny’s voice rings out from the doorway: “Ten points to Gryffindor!”

Fred wipes blood from his split cheek and nose with the back of his hand, breathing hard. He turns back to you all. His eyes find yours immediately, softening.

“You all right, love?” he asks, voice rough.

You nod, heart hammering. “Are you? Christ, Fred, your nose could be broken!” You lean up to look at his nose, pushing his head side to side to see if the bone has been damaged. It looks mostly superficial, but you’re not happy, anyway.

George whistles. “Merlin, Freddie. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

“Serves him right, the cheating bastard. He never plays fair in Quidditch,” Ron adds.

Fred smirks, presses a gentle kiss to your temple, and murmurs against your skin, “I’m a caveman at heart.”

As you all make your way back up the valley to Hogwarts, Hermione mutters something about “barbaric displays”, but even she’s hiding a tiny smile behind her scarf.

You’ve never felt safer.

[yasministration]

wrong twin - fred weasley

not a random boy au summary: for a long, gruelling minute, angelina is under the impression that her best friend has a crush on her boyfriend. but no, that's the wrong twin. wc: 1.3k+

At first, Angelina thinks you have a crush on her boyfriend.

It starts one day over the summer before your last year at hogwarts. You’re spending the day at hers, and after exhausting hours spent at the pool, committed to the summer tan you wanted oh so badly, you’ve both approached the hour of lazying around after a long, tiring shower. You'd taken to the carpeted floor of Angelina's bedroom, slumping down on a soft pillow, hair still damp, now laying in your pyjamas. Angelina is replying to a letter from George while you flick through a quidditch magazine.

“Hey, want to be in this photo?” Angelina asks, pulling out her polaroid camera from a drawer by her bed. “To George?” Angelina nods and you shrug yes, straightening up and turning to face the camera that she turns to face the pair of you. You smile casually in the photo intended for your friend, turning back to the magazine as Angelina rewatches the photo playback. She smiles softly “We look cute in that.”

“Then keep it. The man doesn’t deserve it.”

Angelina laughs. Nothing is suspicious to her at this point — obviously. But a few days later, you see another letter addressed to Angelina from Fred and George, and the instant she pulls out her camera, you’re fluffing up your hair and turning your shoulder to the camera cutely as you lean in closer to Angelina, perfectly smiling for the camera. Your best friend doesn’t comment on your sudden change in behaviour, but she furrows her brows as she watches the moving image appear on the sheet of plastic after you've taken the photo.

You take a peek over her shoulder, asking “Wait, do I look good?” and that’s when Angelina feels her heart drop. She turns the photo towards you, and you nod in approval. Angelina shoots you a blank stare before turning her gaze back to the image, noting the way you press yourself against her in the image, hands gently placed on Angelina’s arm, looking into the camera with an angelic gleam in your eyes, smile on full display.

Angelina swears to herself that if she finds out you’re doing all that for her boyfriend, she’s going to pounce on you. But for now, she gives you the benefit of the doubt, because after all, you’ve been her best friend for six years, and she might as well just be imagining things. So Angelina clears her throat and attaches the image to the letter before folding it into an envelope and sending it off.

“They’re inviting us to the Burrow tomorrow for a lake day.” You jerk forward at Angelina’s statement, grimacing as you echo “Tomorrow!? Ugh, that means I need to shave tonight.” Angelina glances down at your exposed legs, shrugging at the short hairs decorating your skin. “You know Fred and George don’t care about that stuff.”

She sees you becoming flustered, averting your eyes from hers as you chew on your bottom lip. “Yeah, but — I don’t know.”

Three months ago, you wouldn’t have cared if the hairs on your legs were fully grown before wearing shorts around the twins. Angelina bites her tongue, nostrils flaring as she thinks of a method to find out if you actually like her boyfriend or not, otherwise she’ll drive herself crazy.

“Yeah, I get it. I mean, I want to impress George even though he doesn’t mind my body hair. Even down - you know where.”

You laugh loudly, digging your face into one of Angelina’s pillows as you yell “Angie! Gross!”

“Oh please, you’ve never complained about the details of my sex life before!”

“Yes I have! Doesn’t mean I don’t want to keep hearing them though. Keep them coming. Please.”

Obviously, you and Angelina agree to meet up before going over to the Burrow, despite her conflicting feelings. But at least it means that when you floo over there, she gets to witness your exact reaction to seeing her boyfriend, and she can decide on whether to jump you or not. While she gives George a long hug, Angelina misses the excited smile you shoot Fred, who’s still halfway across the living room. She pulls away from George, watching as you loosely hug him, keeping your hands respectfully on his shoulders. There’s a lot of space between your bodies, and your casual ‘hey’ confuses Angelina, especially when one of your hands pats his shoulder in an almost brotherly manner.

Was she imagining things this whole time?

But then she sees the way your make eye contact with Fred, and notices the way your eyes light up as he comes closer to you, arms extended for a hug. You press yourself onto your tippy toes as you drape your arms over Fred’s shoulders, face digging into the crook of his neck. Fred’s arms are tight around your waist, his hands placed on your back, bodies pressed snugly against each other. You sway a little in the hug, and when you pull away, a smile still lingers on your lips.

Angelina internally scolds herself, arms hanging loosely by her sides, because how did she not notice?

Angelina can’t help the wide smile from making its way onto her face — both in joy that you don’t have a crush on her boyfriend and in utter disbelief. It’s so obvious. She clears her throat in a poor attempt to recompose herself as Fred gives her a quick side hug, but you’ve seen the look on her face. You know she knows.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” She whispers to you on the way out of the house, and you shrug, cheeks tight with the smile that’s on your face. God, you missed Fred so much. “I’ve been dropping hints to you for a month now.” And, she can’t exactly argue with you, because when she looks at things retrospectively, even your small actions from the past two days make sense. Like the way you didn’t care about how you looked in an image just to George but posed like a model in one she sent to the twins — to Fred.

Angelina speeds her pace up, skipping to her boyfriend joyously and coincidentally, Fred slows his down so he can walk with you towards the lake. “It’s good to see you.” Fred says with a smile, looking down at you.

“Yeah, you too. Two weeks of summer without your pretty face around was a mistake.” Fred laughs, bumping his shoulder with yours.

You drop your bag on the floor alongside where Angelina and George have laid their things out, sliding your feet out of your flip flops. “We can put the blanket out,” Angelina starts, raising a hand up to her eyes to protect them from the sun. “You guys go test the water or something.”

“Uh, what if I want to go test the water?” You ask, but Angelina rolls her eyes, tossing the big beach mat at you, and you manage to catch it despite your eyes being glued to a now shirtless Fred Weasley. You huff in mock annoyance but begin helping her out anyway, sitting down on the mat in triumph as you strip off your top. Angelina moves to stand in front of you, hands on her hips, eyes squinted at you in battle with the sun.

“You know, for a second there, I thought you had a crush on George.”

You snort out a graceless laugh, leaning back on your elbows as you loosely shrug your shoulders. “That explains why you were being a bitch.”

Angelina laughs, joining you on the mat. She observes George, biting the inside of her cheek as she internally scolds herself again. Why on earth would you have a crush on her boyfriend? “Yeah I was, wasn’t I? Whatever. You do know I’m going to try setting you guys up now, right?”

“Uh, don't insult me like that. I don’t need help with men. Give me two days and he'll be on his knees for me.”

“Sorry, remind me how long you've liked him for?”

Angelina’s question earns her a side eye.

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @treefairy-28, @superlegend216, @kitkatkl, @juliet-017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @matcha-kitty13, @thenasoneshots, @slytherin-princess-x, @bxuzi, @rory-cakes, @dlljdhsh, @girlontheblock, @5sospenguinqueen, @bluebvrriee, @aouoo, @spider–girl, @fandomhoe101, @user010380, @simp-for-fiction, @selenewowww, @paytonluvxx, @sharkers00, @joonbread, @rhettsluvr, @gr1mesgirl, @iluvhrj, @mischivana, @sunnywithlotsoflove, @krokietino, @paankhaleyaaar, @tea-biscuits-books

[romanczukowsky]

Don’t Blush, Love

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: You only asked Fred Weasley for one thing — a quick lesson in kissing before your date with Cedric Diggory. But the moment his lips touch yours, the “lesson” slips completely out of your control… and his.

Warnings: Mild sexual content / sensual kissing / Suggestive themes / Some flirtatious teasing / Light language

The Gryffindor common room hummed with late-evening chatter, firelight flickering against old stone walls. Someone had smuggled in a bag of Honeydukes sweets, someone else debated which Quidditch captain was the most dateable, and the conversation had drifted—inevitably—toward relationships.

“…and apparently Cho Chang kissed him behind the owlery,” Lee whispered dramatically.

Fred gasped. “The owlery? Risky. A bit smelly, but it adds character.”

Laughter broke around the circle. You sat cross-legged on the sofa, pretending to focus on the Exploding Snap cards in your hands, but the conversation kept tugging you in.

“And Cedric Diggory?” Angelina smirked. “Did you hear he likes girls who are… confident?”

Fred shot you a look—one eyebrow raised, trouble already sparkling in his eyes. “Confident, huh? Y/N, you might want to take notes. That Hufflepuff hero isn’t just going to fall into your arms.”

Your face went hot. “I never said I liked Cedric!”

“No, but you blushed when his name came up, love,” Fred teased, bumping your knee with his.

More laughter. You tried to smile it off, but the teasing lodged somewhere deeper, sharper. Cedric Diggory. Confident girls. Kissing behind owlery walls. Merlin—how were you supposed to even go on a date with someone like him when you’d never kissed anyone?

The thought followed you upstairs later, gnawing at you until it turned into something else. A terrible, brilliant idea.

Which was how, twenty minutes later, you found yourself standing in the doorway of the Weasley twins’ dormitory, heart thundering.

Fred looked up from his bed, wand in hand, clearly working on some new disaster.

“Y/N? You planning on joining us for a late-night prank or did you lose a bet?”

You swallowed. “I need your help.”

His grin was instant and dangerous. “Always happy to assist.”

“No, I mean—help with something… specific.” You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. Merlin, why did it feel suddenly hot in here?

Fred sat up, curiosity sharpening. “Alright. What’s the mission?”

The words came out in a tumble. “I need you to teach me how to kiss.”

Silence.

Then Fred’s eyebrows shot so high they nearly left his forehead. “You—what?” He laughed under his breath. “Very funny. Good one.”

You didn’t smile. “I’m serious, Fred.”

His grin faded—slowly, carefully—replaced by something unreadable. “Why me?”

“Because you… know things.” You cringed at your own wording. “And if I’m actually going to have a chance with Cedric, I need to not be a complete disaster.”

Something flickered across his face. Not amusement. Not mockery. Something deeper.

He leaned back on his hands, eyes dragging over you, assessing. “So you want lessons.”

You nodded. “Just… the basics.”

Fred chuckled softly. “Nothing about this is going to stay ‘basic,’ sweetheart.” But after a beat, he patted the space beside him. “Come here.”

You sat beside him—close enough to feel the warmth of his body, close enough that your knee brushed his. Fred noticed. Fred always noticed.

He angled toward you, one arm draping casually over his knee, posture relaxed but eyes… not. His gaze skimmed over your face with a focus you’d never seen from him before.

“Alright,” he murmured, voice low and almost annoyingly gentle, “first lesson.”

His hand came up slowly—giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. You didn’t.

Fingers brushed your cheek. Soft. Warm. Almost careful.

Then he tilted your chin up with his thumb, and your breath caught.

“Just follow me,” he whispered.

Fred leaned in and kissed you—soft at first, like he was checking if you’d spook. But you leaned in.

The kiss deepened when you did, his lips warm and sure, guiding yours in slow, patient movements that made your stomach twist in hot spirals. His thumb stroked along your jaw, steadying you, coaxing you.

When he finally pulled back, just enough to look at you, your cheeks were burning.

Fred smirked.

“Don’t blush, love.”

Your breath stuttered. “I— I’m not.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You absolutely are.”

The teasing should’ve embarrassed you. Instead, it made something snap in your chest—something bold, reckless.

Fred saw it. You watched his expression shift, eyes darkening with a heat that stole the air from the room.

“Not bad for a first kiss,” he murmured, voice low and sincere in a way you weren’t prepared for. His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth. “Actually… you kiss better than not bad.”

Your heart hammered.

“Really?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Fred breathed. “Good enough that I need… another sample. For research.”

This time, he didn’t wait.

His hand slid into your hair as he kissed you again—deeper, slower, with a warmth that spread through your chest and curled into your fingertips. You kissed him back, instinct guiding you more than thought, and Fred made a soft sound against your mouth, a pleased one, like you’d surprised him.

Your fingers curled into his shirt. He smiled into the kiss—mischievous, delighted—and tugged you a little closer by the waist.

“That’s it,” he whispered against your lips. “Just like that.”

He kissed you again. And again. Each one steadier. More sure. More Fred.

His other hand slid around the small of your back, steadying you when you swayed forward into him, pulling you deeper into the kiss without even thinking.

You weren’t thinking about Cedric anymore. You weren’t thinking about anything except the way Fred Weasley kissed you like he was teaching you and losing himself at the same time.

And when you pulled back for breath, cheeks warm, lips tingling, Fred looked at you like he’d just discovered something dangerous.

“Merlin,” he murmured, eyes flicking to your lips, “you’re going to be the death of me.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then you did.

You leaned in—hesitant for half a heartbeat, then with surprising certainty—your fingers sliding into his hair before you could second-guess yourself. Fred inhaled sharply, a sound that hit you low and deep, and you kissed him again, firmer, bolder.

“Oi—” he murmured into your mouth, amused and breathless all at once. He pulled back just enough to look at you properly. A slow, wicked smile unfurled across his lips.

“Is that how you want to play?”

You didn’t even have time to form a thought.

Fred’s hands caught your waist, warm and sure, and in one smooth motion he tipped you backward, guiding you onto the mattress with such ease it made your breath catch.

Your back hit the blankets softly, and before you could blink, Fred was above you—braced on his elbows, knees sinking into the bed on either side of your hips, holding himself just close enough that you felt his breath against your cheek.

The world shrank to the inches between you.

Fred’s eyes swept over your face, slow, deliberate, hungry in a way that made your pulse stumble.

“You look better like this,” he whispered. You didn’t trust your voice enough to answer.

He didn’t wait.

Fred dipped down again, kissing you—deeper this time, stealing the breath right from your lungs. His hand slid from your waist to your ribcage, stopping just beneath your arm, a warm anchor that held you exactly where he wanted you.

Then his lips left yours.

Not far. Not for long.

They brushed the corner of your mouth. Your cheekbone. The line of your jaw.

“You drive me mad, you know that?” he murmured against your skin, voice lower than before.

He kissed the spot beneath your ear—slow, lingering—and your breath hitched. It was tiny. Barely a sound. But he heard it.

Fred smiled against your neck.

“Oh, I felt that,” he whispered, amused and pleased and something else entirely.

He pressed another kiss, lower now, just at the curve of your throat. Your hand slid instinctively into his hair—fingers tightening for balance, for him—and the quiet sound that escaped you wasn’t a gasp, wasn’t a moan, just—

“…Fred…”

His name. Soft. Unplanned. Pulled straight from somewhere you didn’t know existed.

Fred froze for a heartbeat. Only a heartbeat.

Then he lifted his head just enough to look at you, eyes darker than you’d ever seen them.

“Say that again,” he breathed.

You shook your head, mortified—and that made him laugh under his breath, a low, warm sound that rolled right through you.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, brushing his nose against yours, “you’re going to ruin me.”

And before you could protest, before you could hide your face, before you could think—

Fred’s lips were back on yours.

Not careful. Not soft. But sure. Certain. Like he’d finally stopped pretending this was just a lesson.

His hand cradled your jaw, tilting your face up to him as he kissed you again and again, each one warmer, deeper, pulling you under and holding you there.

Like he never wanted to stop.

His hips nudged yours—accidental, unplanned, but unmistakably intimate.

The breath rushed out of both of you at the same time.

Fred tore his mouth from yours with a sharp inhale, bracing himself harder on his forearms, because if he didn’t he might—

“Bloody—” he whispered, blinking hard. “Right. Okay. That’s—Merlin.”

He swallowed, like he was trying to drag himself back to reality—

But reality didn’t wait.

“FRE-EED? YOU IN HERE?” George’s voice echoed up the hallway.

You froze instantly.

Fred didn’t move. His chest rose and fell steady. His eyes flicked once toward the door, then back to you—dark and smoldering. A faint, amused smile tugged at his lips. Calm. Collected. Watching you panic like it was the most entertaining thing in the world.

He leaned in, brushing his lips once more against yours in a quick, soft kiss—a last, deliberate contact.

You pushed him off yourself, cheeks burning, heart still racing. “Move,” you whispered.

You stood, smoothing your skirt, brushing back your hair, trying to regain composure. Fred’s eyes followed every movement.

Then another voice joined—Lee’s. “George, wait—no, listen! It wasn’t my fault the mannequin exploded—”

The footsteps stopped.

You exhaled shakily, turning to Fred. “Well… wish me luck, then,” you murmured, trying to sound casual, still flushed.

Fred blinked slowly, that faint, mischievous smirk lingering. “For what?”

“My date,” you said softly, brushing your hair back. “…With Cedric.”

The moment shifted instantly. Fred’s eyes darkened, posture tightening slightly. “After that?”

You tried to scoff, trying to sound nonchalant, though your pulse raced. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

You turned to leave.

His hand caught your wrist firm and certain. “I’m not being ridiculous. You’re not going anywhere with Cedric Diggory.”

You glanced back. Fred’s gaze held you, unwavering, impossibly steady, chest rising slowly, smoldering eyes fixed on you.

Before you could respond further, the door swung open.

George came in. “Fred, Mum wants—oh, hi, Y/N. Didn’t know you were up here.”

“I was just leaving,” you said quickly, wiggling your wrist free from his grasp and steering yourself toward the door.

Fred was still watching you.

You stepped into the hallway, heart racing, breath uneven— but just before the door closed, you heard him behind you.

Soft. Low. Certain.

“Y/N… I’m serious.”

The door clicked shut.

And suddenly you weren’t sure whether you were walking toward your date with Cedric— or straight into something much, much more dangerous.