Hello! Could I get an HP ship? I’m short (5’0) but I’ve got a big personality to make up for it. Mid length blonde hair, Bright blue eyes, and tons of freckles. I’m very outspoken about things that I’m passionate about, and I speak before I think which lands me in trouble. I love to tend to my plants and succulents, and go exploring around my area. Otherwise I enjoy cooking, and being creative with drawing, painting or ceramics. For the prompts, either #06 or #12, I couldn’t decide at the time!
Casus Belli (Fred Weasley x Reader)
author notes: I have not explored the prank theme enough - *side eye at all the fics I have written with characters being mischievous and doing dumb stuff to annoy people they love* - nope, definitely not enough. Sorry for the wait, hope you like it!
prompt: #12. "How OLD are you?"
word count: 1k words
your song: cyndi lauper - girls just want to have fun
MOST OF THE time, the Great Hall at Hogwarts was a tranquil place. Students from all houses could reunite to brainstorm ideas for their common assignments; sometimes a heated, whispered argument would break out regarding the best way to tackle the parchment on Boggarts; and the busiest of afternoons consisted of friend groups pretending to work by passing notes around and flying. Working on your homework wasn't your favorite thing to do, but at least the environment was nice enough, with its vague odor of turkey and candles and rattling of quills, to help you concentrate.
That was, of course, until the Weasley twins decided to have a little fun by shattering the peace and quiet.
It was usual for your boyfriend and his brother to break in the Great Hall with an upteenth trick up their sleeve, with that mischievous chuckling and attitude you could see from a mile away; so in all fairness, you should've been prepared for them to do so, once again. But they usually made sure their arrival was noticed, and your studying session with Angelina had been unsuspiciously quiet until the moment they had snuck up to you.
"I don't understand - so the Salem witch trials were orchestrated by wizards to appease superstitious Muggles?" you summarized, staring in disbelief at your open book and empty History of Magic assignment.
"Seems like it, yes," Angelina muttered. She was far more productive than you, and had already blackened with ink a full page. You, on the other hand, thought nothing could be better than apparating out of there and into a sunlit greenhouse, to paint the surrounding flowers.
"Why do we even have to learn American history, anyway?" you grumbled, folding your arms and leaning back in your chair.
"It's more like Wizarding history," your friend replied without looking up from her quill. How she could be so unbothered and focus when spring was just around the corner and a million colors blossomed outside would forever remain a mystery to you.
What would also remain a mystery is how Fred Weasley managed to stand right behind you without you hearing the ancient floorboards creak under his weight.
As you were debating the policies led by the Hogwarts educative team and the Education Department of the Ministry of Magic, you felt a sudden tug at your hair from behind. Raising a hand to the back of your head, you brushed the fingers of the culprit as they retreated promptly. You turned around; right behind you stood your boyfriend Fred; a few steps back, his twin; on both their faces, the kind of smile that always makes you fear the worst.
"What are you doing?" you frowned.
"Nothing," Fred grinned, and you only then noticed that he kept his hands behind his back. "Can't I give my girlfriend an encouraging nuzzle?"
"Y/N..." Angelina murmured, her wide eyes stuck on your hair.
Overcome with a sudden rush of panic, you ran a hand through your hair.
Immediately, you knew something was wrong.
Fred and George burst out laughing and high-fived, but after a few seconds, their laughter unexpectedly died down, and their stunned silence told you something was very wrong.
"Maybe we've overdone it with the pigments," George suggested pensive, and when Fred nodded with a renewed amusement, you thought you would kill him right there.
For the moment, though, you were too preoccupied by your hair rapidly growing and changing color. Your once blond hair that barely reached your shoulders was now neon green, the brightest you'd ever seen, and you could feel your strands growing by the second like infinite ropes. You almost muffled a yell when they reached the seat of your chair, now longer than you'd ever had them, and yet still growing; you observed them until they stopped, maybe ten centimeters from the ground, and the top of your skull tingled for a few seconds as if it were swarming with ants.
Only then did you yell.
"What the bloody hell, Fred! What is this? How OLD are you to be doing that still?"
"I'm seventeen, dear. And as for the other question..."
As if they had repeated the theatrical unfolding of the entire ordeal, Fred and George triumphantly whipped out from behind their backs two brightly-colored hairbrushes, shining dimly in the artificial light.
"The Comb-a-Chameleon!" they exclaimed in unison.
"I chose the name," precised George.
"And I the design. A magical comb that can change the hairstyle of any witch and wizard."
"It's still in its early stages. It's not supposed to make a change so drastic..."
"We'll make a few adjustments."
"Thanks for being our test subject."
You were fuming. Fred, somehow, always managed to surpass himself in ingenious mischief with each new gadget he invented and prank he pulled. More than once, you had pitied the professors and students - mostly bullies or particularly insufferable Slytherins - who fell into his iron clutches, merely escaping with drenched clothes or funny hats... but to attack you! You! You, who had always been supportive of his every endeavor! You, his most loyal and trusted advisor, his rock in the storms, his girlfriend!
"That's all very pretty, but can I get my hair back now?"
Both twins exchanged a complicit glance, and your blood froze in your veins.
"Did we find a way to turn it back to normal, aside from waiting seventy-two hours?"
"I don't think so."
A growl rose in your chest, traveling all the way to your throat, until you could not contain it anymore. Bolting from your chair, you pointed an accusatory finger at Fred. Merlin, how ridiculous you must have looked with your bright green, abnormally long strands, swirling around your furious head like radioactive branches!
"Oh, this is an unforgivable affront, Fred Weasley. If it's war you want, then war you will get."
Both Weasley twins' lips curled upward ever so slightly, their eyes taking the unmistakable tint of an accepted challenge. Half of you regretted, as you usually did, speaking before thinking twice... the other half jumps in anticipation.
"This is war, then."
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