Genre: Romantic comedy, smutty fluff, slow burn with chaotic truth spills light smut talk
Summery: George and Lee thought it would be funny to slip some truth serum into Fred’s butterbeer how could an innocent joke turn into such chaos
Ps: the truth serum lasts a lot longer than it realistically would 🤫
Part 1: The Joke That Should’ve Stayed a Joke
It began with a prank.
Like most terrible, brilliant ideas in Fred Weasley’s life, it started with laughter and ended in chaos.
“C’mon,” Lee whispered to George behind the broom shed, glancing down at the tiny vial of Veritaserum pinched between his fingers. “Just a drop or two. He’s been far too smug lately.”
George snorted. “You mean he’s been rubbing in the fact that he beat you at Strip Exploding Snap.”
“I wasn’t that naked.”
“You were down to socks.”
Lee scowled. “He cheated.”
“He always cheats.”
Which was exactly why they felt this was justified. A little dose in Fred’s butterbeer at dinner, a few cheeky questions, and maybe a public confession or two about how he once wet the bed in second year. Easy fun. Harmless.
They didn’t know.
They didn’t realize.
Fred Weasley was harbouring filth. Deep, obsessive, terrifyingly horny filth—and every single thought centred around you.
⸻
Dinner was uneventful at first.
You sat across the table from Fred, laughing with Ginny and Hermione, unaware that two mischievous bastards had slipped your longtime friend a potion designed to bypass every filter he had.
He was already three sips in when he locked eyes with you.
And then the spiral began.
She’s so fucking fit. That skirt should be illegal. Merlin’s saggy left nut, her lips look like heaven. I wonder if she knows I’d crawl through the Forbidden Forest just to lick her neck.
Fred’s face went pink.
“Fred?” you asked, noticing his expression.
He blinked, shook his head quickly. “Nothing. Fine. I’m fine. Dandy. Peachy.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You look like you swallowed a Niffler.”
“Probably deserves it,” Lee muttered, nudging George.
Then George, grinning wide, leaned in across the table. “Hey Fred, who would you say has the best… assets in Gryffindor?”
Fred’s mouth opened. “Y/N’s tits could end wars.”
Silence.
You choked on your pumpkin juice. Ron dropped a fork. Hermione’s mouth fell open.
Fred blinked, then smacked his own forehead. “Oh bollocks.”
Lee’s expression morphed into horror. “That was… not what I expected.”
George grabbed Fred by the arm. “We’re leaving.”
“I’d let her ride my face for hours,” Fred added as he was yanked from the bench.
“FRED!” Hermione shrieked.
You sat frozen in place, mouth slightly open, cheeks burning red.
What the actual fuck was that?
⸻
Part 2: The Escape Plan
“WHAT were you thinking?” Fred hissed in the dorm later that night, pacing like a man possessed. “Truth serum? Veritaserum?! On me?! Have you met me?”
“To be fair,” George said, trying not to laugh, “we thought we’d get you to admit to stealing Lee’s Quidditch socks. Not…”
“That I wank to the sound of her voice?!”
Lee winced. “Yeah, that was… vivid.”
Fred dragged a hand through his hair. “She’s never going to look at me again.”
“Well, she did look at you. Her face was redder than a tomato.”
“She probably thinks I’m a creep!”
“You are a creep,” George muttered. “But a very charming one.”
Fred groaned. “I need to avoid her.”
“What? Why?”
“Because if I see her again, I’ll say something worse. You don’t know what I think about.”
Lee raised an eyebrow. “Worse than wanting to be her human furniture?”
Fred gave them a haunted look. “So much worse.”
⸻
Part 3: The First Confrontation
You tried to corner him two days later.
He was fleeing the Great Hall like a man on fire.
“Fred!” you called, jogging after him. “Oi! Slow down!”
Fred turned a corner and ran straight into Peeves.
“Bugger,” he muttered.
That gave you time to catch up. You grabbed his sleeve. “Are you seriously avoiding me?”
“I—no—yes—I mean—don’t take it personally!”
“I am taking it personally!”
Fred backed into the wall, looking anywhere but at you. “It’s the serum. I didn’t mean to say all that.”
“But you did say it.”
“I didn’t want to!”
“But you meant it.”
Fred whimpered. “Merlin, yes, I meant it! Have you seen yourself?! Your legs go on forever and I’ve literally written poems about your arse in Divination!”
You blinked. “…What?”
“I once dropped a book on purpose just to watch you bend over,” Fred said helplessly. “You moaned when you picked it up and I nearly fainted.”
Your mouth dropped open.
Just then, George appeared.
“There you are!” he said loudly, grabbing Fred’s arm. “Come on, we’ve got detention, remember?”
Fred practically leapt away from you.
“I’LL WRITE YOU A LETTER!” he shouted over his shoulder as George dragged him off.
⸻
Part 4: The Confessions Escalate
By the fourth time, you weren’t even surprised.
You found Fred alone in the Astronomy Tower, hiding behind a tapestry.
He looked up at you with a guilty expression. “I was hoping you wouldn’t find me.”
“I always find you.”
He sighed. “I know. You smell like ink and sugar quills. It’s—ugh—it’s delicious.”
You bit your lip.
He stood slowly. “I’ve imagined you riding me in that chair in McGonagall’s classroom.”
“Fred.”
“In the library. Up against the restricted section. I’d lift your skirt and—fuck, I need to shut up.”
Your legs went weak.
“I can’t stop, Y/N. Every time I see you, my brain goes straight to filth. You make me feel like I’m thirteen again and discovering what a hard-on is.”
You opened your mouth—just as Lee’s voice echoed from below.
“Fred, come on! You said five minutes!”
Fred sighed in relief. “Saved by the bastard.”
You grabbed his sleeve. “One day, they won’t be around to save you.”
Fred’s expression changed. “And on that day, I’m going to ruin you.”
Fred avoided you for another week.
You couldn’t so much as glance at him without George or Lee flanking him like Aurors on guard duty. If you sat down beside him, one of them magically needed him somewhere else. Every time he opened his mouth, one of them interrupted.
And yet… the things he did manage to say?
They haunted you.
“You make me feel like I’m thirteen again and discovering what a hard-on is.”
“I’ve imagined you riding me in that chair in McGonagall’s classroom.”
“You moaned and I nearly fainted.”
You replayed them in bed. At breakfast. During bloody Charms. And worst of all: Fred knew it.
Because every time your eyes met across the Great Hall or a corridor, he’d flush deep red and mutter something under his breath you couldn’t quite catch.
And you were getting impatient.
Dangerously so.
⸻
The Breaking Point
It was late.
The Gryffindor common room had thinned out to just a few scattered students dozing near the fire. You were curled up in an armchair with a Transfiguration book you weren’t really reading.
And then Fred walked in.
Alone.
Your heart nearly exploded.
He froze when he saw you.
You didn’t even hesitate. “Sit down.”
Fred looked torn between bolting or throwing himself into the fire.
“Fred.”
He gave in with a heavy sigh and slumped onto the sofa across from you. His legs spread wide, one hand gripping the back of his neck.
“George and Lee aren’t here to save you this time,” you said.
“I noticed,” he muttered.
You closed your book. “Then tell me.”
Fred stared into the flames for a long moment, jaw tight, lips parted like he was catching his breath.
And then—
“I think about fucking you more than I think about food.”
Your entire body went still.
Fred didn’t stop.
“I wake up hard. Every morning. From dreams about you. Last week I came in my pants because I dreamed you were sitting on my face.”
Your legs pressed together instinctively.
Fred’s voice dropped, ragged and low. “You were begging. Grinding down on me. Your thighs shaking. I could taste you in the dream.”
You swallowed hard.
Fred ran a hand over his face. “Every time you wear that little skirt—the grey one—I imagine you bent over a desk. I’d lift it, pull your knickers to the side, and fuck you so hard the books fall off.”
Your thighs clenched.
“I want you to make those little sounds I’ve only ever imagined. I want to bury my face between your legs and not come up for air. I want your fingers in my hair while I make you fall apart.”
“Fred…” you whispered.
“I want to ruin every surface in this bloody castle with you. I want your nails down my back, your voice hoarse from screaming my name.”
Your breath hitched. “Jesus.”
“And it’s not just sex,” he went on, words speeding up like they were desperate to escape. “It’s you. It’s your laugh. The way you make me feel like I’m flying when you look at me. I love you. I’m completely, helplessly, humiliatingly in love with you.”
Silence.
Fred stared at you, chest rising and falling hard, like he’d just run a marathon. “And I wasn’t supposed to say any of that. I was supposed to keep pretending I was fine.”
You were on your feet before your brain could catch up.
You crossed the room in three long strides, grabbed him by the collar, and kissed him.
It was fire. Messy. Desperate. Your fingers tangled in his hair, his hands gripping your hips like he’d die if he let go.
He moaned against your mouth, and it shot straight through your core.
You pulled back just enough to speak. “Fred?”
“Yeah?”
“Still under the serum?”
“Wearing off,” he whispered. “But I’d say it anyway.”
You kissed him again, harder.
Fred groaned, pulling you into his lap without warning, and you straddled him without hesitation. His hands dragged up your thighs, pushing your skirt up until his palms were hot against your bare skin.
“You’re even better than the dreams,” he mumbled, lips brushing your neck.
“Then make new ones,” you breathed. “With me.”
Fred’s grin was sinful. “Witch, I’m going to ruin you.”
Pairing: Fred Weasley x hufflepuff!reader
(works for any house really, except gryffindor for story purpose)
Summary: stuck in detention with Fred for a prank you never did, grants you the deal of a lifetime. Fred would help you get with your crush, Oliver Wood, and you get him with his, Gabriella Moon, in time for the Yule Ball. Though, as you spend more time teaching each other how to "flirt", complicated feelings start to arise.
Wordcount: 6.8k (got carried away and kinda wrote a mini fic 😭🙏🏼)
———
“This is entirely your fault,” you snapped, bending down to scrub at the sticky residue on the stone floor. “I had nothing to do with that prank.”
The potions storage room air reeked with the scent of something foul, probably from whatever concoction had spilled from the shelves earlier today. All thanks to that stupid explosion caused by none other than the twin's prank just outside the room.
You gestured around at the remnants of the prank—green goo still dripping from the shelves, a set of abandoned dungbombs rolling near the base of Snape’s desk.
Crossing your arms, you huffed as you glared at Fred, who was leaning against the wall with that insufferable smirk, clearly enjoying your misery.
Fred chuckled, tossing a sponge into the air and catching it lazily. “Yeah, yeah, tell that to Snape. You just happened to be there, hands covered in fluorescent goo, looking guilty as hell, which might I add, doesn't help with your case.”
“I was cleaning up the mess, Fred, not causing it” you gritted out, shoving the bucket closer to him. “Unlike you, who just stood there laughing while George ran for his life.”
Fred grinned, bending down to soak his sponge in water. “Ah, Georgie. Quick on his feet, that one. Maybe you should take notes for next time.”
Lucky for George, he managed to escape Snape's fury, leaving the stupendous detention task of reorganising and cleaning the entire potions storage room to the two of you.
“There won’t be a next time because I don’t do pranks,” you retorted. “Unlike some people.”
Fred gasped, pausing from squeezing the water out of his sponge, “No pranks? No mischief? Merlin, what a dull existence.”
You scowled, but your lips twitched. “Not all of us live for chaos.”
“You sure? Because you seem to enjoy my company a lot for someone who claims to be innocent,” he teased, turning his attention to scrubbing the fluorescent goop from the floor.
“Oh, shush If I weren’t such a good person, I’d leave this room right now and tell Snape about the other pranks you and George are planning.”
Fred turned to face you, holding back a doubtful laugh as he momentarily stopped scrubbing, “You wouldn't dare, Y/L/N.” his tone sprinkled with a hint of mockery.
You rolled your eyes, dipping your sponge back into the murky water. “Unfortunately you're right.”
He raised an eyebrow, amused. “Because you secretly like me?”
“Because I’m not a snitch,” you corrected smugly.
____
An hour later, you were balancing on a stool, reaching for a jar of pickled salamander eyes while Fred stacked vials below. You glanced down at him, waiting for him to pass you more vials for the higher shelves.
A small played on his lips, Fred exhaled softly before handing you another vial, “Alright, since I do feel a tiny bit bad about dragging you into this, I’ll make it up to you.”
You raised your brow suspiciously. “How?”
Fred’s smirk returned. “The Yule Ball's coming up, right? I’ll help you get with whoever you want."
"In return, you promise not to rat me out about, oh, I don’t know, the prank in the Great Hall last week. Or the one from two days ago in McGonagall’s class. Or the—" He continued but you interjected swiftly.
Your eyes widened slightly, finally registering what he just offered. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious,” he said, placing another vial on one of the lower shelves. “You name the bloke, and I’ll be your personal matchmaking genius.”
"You're kidding." You pressed your lips together, skeptical.
"Am not." He affirmed, "Go on, the look on your face says you have someone in mind Y/N."
A slow grin spread across your face, but you hesitated. "No one in mind." You shrugged.
Fred folded his arms, eyeing you up and down before tilting his head to the side, "I'm sensing...someone....taller than you?" Yeah, no kidding.
Without thinking you retorted, "Yeah obviously he's taller than me." Your hands flew at the speed of light to cover your mouth while turning to face away from Fred.
You hoped to hide your flushness, but you ended up losing your balance on the stool in the process.
"Merlin, don't tell me you're quite literally falling for him." Fred quickly held your waist, steadying you before you could meet the ground.
You grabbed his shoulder for support before adjusting yourself and returning to your respective task of arranging the vials on the upper shelf.
You hadn't planned on telling anyone about your secret crush on Oliver Wood, but here you were, letting these words slip aimlessly out of your mouth.
Fred took your silence as an answer, curiosity lingering in the air.
"Ah, so there is someone on your mind." He pressed, "And who’s the unfortunate sod you fancy?"
You paused, feeling the heat of his gaze from below, "Oliver Wood..." You mumbled all too softly; even the house elves, with their sharp hearing abilities, wouldn't be able to decipher what you said.
Exhaling, you got down from the stool, standing in front of Fred and avoiding eye contact at all costs.
He took slow tentative steps toward you, bending down to your level so he could hear, "Come again?" You could feel his breath on your skin.
Your eyes found his, not registering how close he was, "Oliver Wood." Your face tainted a light shade of red.
Fred choked on air, a loud chortle escaped him, "Wood? The Gryffindor Captain, Mr. ‘Quidditch is My One True Love’?"
"Shut up," you mumbled, heat rising to your cheeks. You placed a hand on his chest and shoved him away playfully, "Don't tell anyone! I'll vanish off the face of this earth if you do."
Fred laughed, shaking his head. “Blimey, you’ve got high standards.”
“I barely know him, but he’s just—” You sighed wistfully. “He’s so kind and driven and—”
“Obsessed with Quidditch?” Fred interjected.
“Yes, but in a dedicated way,” you said dreamily.
Fred snorted. "Merlin, alright, fine. I’ll help you. But just know that if I have to listen to you swoon over Wood for the next month, you owe me more than just detention duty."
You beamed. “Deal.”
“Good. Because I might need your help, too.”
You tilted your head, furrowing your brows. “With what?”
Fred leaned forward conspiratorially. “Gabriella Moon.”
"Gabriella? As in, my Gabriella?"
"I didn’t realise you had ownership over her," Fred mused. "But yes, your Hufflepuff friend."
You nodded, grinning. "Oh for sure, I can definitely help with that. Piece of cake."
Gabriella was in your house, a sweet and kind Hufflepuff, and you got along with her well. Setting her up with Fred should be a simple, easy, task.
"Alright, Weasley. You’ve got yourself a deal."
Fred held out his hand, and you shook it—sealing a pact neither of you realised would completely change everything.
"Our deal." He affirmed.
____
The deal meant spending more time together. At first, it was simple things—giving each other tips, practicing flirting, and being seen together enough to spark curiosity.
One evening in the Great Hall, Fred joined you at the Hufflepuff table. Your friends sat with you, but you were so engrossed with Fred, that everyone seemed to disappear into the background, feeling as though it was only the two of you in the hall.
Fred leaned in with a smirk after placing a dinner roll on your plate, which he knew you enjoyed pairing with butter. "Alright, say I’m Oliver—how would you charm me?"
You exhaled dramatically. "Fine." You turned to him, putting on your best smile. "Hey, Oliver, fancy seeing you here. Do you always look this good after practice?"
Fred chortled, nearly choking on his pumpkin juice. "Merlin’s beard, that was atrocious."
You gasped, smacking his arm. "It was not!"
"It was!" Fred wheezed, clutching his chest. "Try again, but maybe without sounding like a lovesick poet."
You scowled but tried again. "Alright, then. How about this—‘I hear you’re the best Keeper Hogwarts has ever had. Think you could keep me?’"
Fred blinked, then groaned throwing his head back. "Oh, that was painful."
You shoved his shoulder, laughing. "I hate you."
"Sure you do," he teased, winking. "Now, do I get a turn?"
"Go on, then," you challenged, crossing your arms.
Fred turned, propped his elbow on the table, and smirked. "Hey, Gabriella," he began, "are you a Snitch? Because you’ve got me chasing after you."
You stared at him, face scrunching up in disgust. It was as though you had just witnessed a crime.
He wiggled his eyebrows before taking a mouthful of peas, chewing as he awaited your response.
You burst out laughing. "Oh, that’s horrible. No wonder you need my help."
Fred's mouth dropped, "Excuse you, that was a good chat up. Thank you very much."
You both laughed, completely unaware of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs watching the way you two bantered—how Fred’s eyes softened when you laughed, how you bit your lip when he grinned.
You weren't super close to Fred, just casual friends, but you had to admit, these few recent days had you seeing him in a different light, he was more carefree around you, cheery, and you felt yourself coming out of your shell, all thanks to him.
You were confident in approaching Oliver now, and all the more excited for it.
____
"No, no! Merlin, Fred, you're going to scare the girl away if you look at her like that." The next few days were all about perfecting your tactics, anything to impress your targets, of course.
"Like what?" He sat beside you on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. It was a Saturday, and naturally, most students were either at Hogsmeade, outside, or sleeping in, leaving most of the space to the two of you.
"Again! Again..." You waved your hands, ushering him off the couch. "Pretend I'm Gabriella, and I'm sitting on a bench somewhere nice. You've just walked into the place, and you see her."
Fred straightened his shirt, retreating from the couch, before strolling over to you again, a devious smirk painted on his face, his hair slightly tousled and messy. He held his chin up high, and his arms swayed beside his lanky figure as he approached you.
"Y/N? Fancy seeing you here!" He beamed, pretending to act out the scenario.
"Wrong." You corrected, "Not Y/N, Gabriella." You flashed your brows, and he exhaled, walking away to take his place once again.
He strolled to you, once more, "Gabriella! Haven't seen you in a bit! What brings you here?"
You nodded, indicating he was doing a decent job so far, encouraging him to continue.
Fred plopped himself beside you, your knees were touching and he extended an arm around you.
"I"m good! This is my favourite place to unwind actually." You fake-mocked Gabriella, pretending to be her in this situation.
"Well, then I guess you'll be seeing me here more often, darling." Fred leaned in, you could feel his body heat against you, and you blinked before shaking your head.
"Darling? You barely know the girl!" You chuckled, and Fred's eyes glinted with awe as you threw your head back, he had not realised it, but your laughter ignited a warm honey like feeling in his chest.
"Fine, what about love? Baby? Babe?"
"No no, save those for when you're actually with her, but I suppose 'love' is a good place to start."
"Alright, love." He teased, and you playfully smacked him but an idea popped into your head, and immediately, you got into character.
"If you say so, Oliver." You pretended to act as if you would in this scenario with Wood.
Fred, still seated next to you, glanced down from your eyes to your lips.
You leaned in, tilting your head and gazing from his left eye, to his lips, then to his right eye. You smiled sweetly, blinking slowly as you gave Fred your full attention, staring at him with doe-like eyes, "So, Oliver, how was quidditch practice today?"
Fred gulped, eyes blinking rapidly as he coughed, "G-Good."
You smirked, lowering your voice, "I'm sure it would've been better if I was there with you." You bit your lip as you glanced at his lips.
"You should come to the next one." Fred responded softly, smiling as he leaned in, ever so slightly, one arm still wrapped around you, and you were fully within his proximity.
You could feel your breaths against each other; his scent crept its way to your nose, and you scrunched it. He smelt like fresh grass on a hot summer's day and clean laundry in the fresh breeze, something you'd never noticed before.
There was a moment of comfortable silence, but the portrait door clicked open, and some students returned from their trip to Hogsmeade.
"That was, uh, something I'd say if I was with Oliver." You quickly dismissed this, leaning back to a comfortable distance. Fred cleared his throat, and removed his arm, "Yeah, that was good. See, told you I was a good teacher."
You scoffed, "You? Please that one was all me."
"S'pose you are getting pretty good at this, annoyingly so, in fact." He hummed and you mouth dropped slightly,
"Is that a compliment?" You beamed, wiggling a happy dance in your seat.
"Don't get too cocky Y/L/N, I have yet to see you interact with him." Fred laughed, attempting to hide his awe for your little dance.
____
Days passed, and you found yourself spending an increasing amount of time at the Gryffindor table, supposedly to get closer to Oliver. But somehow, you always ended up next to Fred, bickering, laughing, sharing food.
People noticed—Hermione tried, and failed miserably to hide her excitement for you two, George outright smirked, Ginny started whispering to Harry, smiling at the thought of the two of you, Ron was amused at how Fred could pull someone as gorgeous as you.
Only you and Fred knew about your deal, to them, they saw this as a newfound friendship, alliance, even...romance? Hermione seems to think the latter describes your relationship perfectly.
You brushed it off, for you knew that you were only helping each other, and once the deal was over, you would go back to normal.
The topic of quidditch was no foreign topic at this table, Harry making remarks about how he'll confront Malfoy, Angelina and George talking about the Nimbus 2000, Oliver and Fred discussing a new game plan.
"Hey Y/N, why don't you come watch us at practice today after lunch, it'll be fun." Oliver invited you, and you blinked in surprise.
"I'd love to!" You chimed, "How could I pass on a chance to support the best quidditch team at Hogwarts?"
Oliver beamed, laughing softly at your enthusiasm, "Ooh careful now, don't want Hufflepuff's quidditch team to hear that now do ya?"
"Consider me an ally of both teams." You chuckled, and he grinned, smiling warmly at you.
"Surely you become an honourary Gryffindor for the day?" Oliver raised his brow, before taking a bite of his toast.
"Won't miss me too much when I switch back to Hufflepuff would you?" You teased.
"Then I'll just ask you to join Gryffindor again."
You were about to pour yourself some orange juice, but Oliver moved at the speed of light, "Here, let me." He poured a glass for you, then one for himself. "Fred? Some for you too?"
"Nah mate, I'm pretty full."
Fred silently watched the two of you interact; a part of him was happy and proud, seeing the way you effortlessly interacted with Oliver, but there was this foreign feeling inside him. Like a splinter poking him from the inside, if that were even possible.
His eyes darted from you, to Oliver, then back to you.
Each time you paid attention to Oliver, laughed at his quips, his charm, a small part of Fred wanted that attention from you, again.
He wanted you for himself.
Fred shook his head, dismissing all these thoughts, where were they even coming from? He knew one thing thought, he was being silly thinking about you like this.
However, Gabriella was starting to become a long-forgotten thought.
The only person consuming his mind lately, seemed to be…you.
Fred exhaled, taking a sip of his water, hoping to refresh his mind from whatever nonsense he thought about.
It didn’t matter anyway because after this deal was done, and you were happy with Oliver, that was it. You’d go your separate ways, well, mostly. That was, after all, the whole point of you becoming close with Fred.
"By the way, is it alright if I bring a friend?" You asked Oliver.
"The more the merrier!"
"I'll bring Gabriella." You whispered trying to contain your excitement, nudging Fred who was seated beside you.
He was quickly snapped out of his thoughts, "Oh, yeah, that'll be great."
____
Later that afternoon, you sat in the stands with Hermione, Gabriella, and Ginny, watching Gryffindor’s practice. Oliver was in his element—focused, determined, calling out plays.
Your eyes were glued to him, who looked impossibly handsome as he soared through the air, his hair ruffled by the wind. He turned, caught your gaze, and waved with that signature kind smile of his.
Your heart stuttered and a faint blush crept on your cheeks, moments like this only pulled you in deeper.
Part of the reason you fell for him, was that one day you were lost and he helped you find your way to class. Being younger than him, he felt the duty to lookout for his juniors, he was patient, kind and made you feel right at home when you felt lost. His kindness was just so endearing.
"Go Oli!!" You cheered, and Oliver waved at you again.
"Nicknames already?" Hermione, seated next to you, smiled knowingly and you chuckled as a response.
"Fred looks really determined today, isn't that a good look on him?" You nudged Gabriella, hoping to steer her focus onto Fred.
"Yeah, he does look kinda cute." She agreed, grinning up at him. "Also, thanks for inviting me Y/N, this is really nice." Gabriella turned to you, smiling sweetly. She was a kind soul, much like you, always helping others and making sure everyone felt comfortable. Of course guys would fancy her.
Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Fred. His red hair caught the sunlight in a way that made it seem almost golden, his strong frame relaxed but still commanding attention as he sat on his broomstick, laughing with George.
There was something about him today—maybe the way his sleeves were rolled up, or the effortless confidence he carried. And for some reason, your found your heartpace steadily increasing as you continued observing him.
No. No, this was about Oliver. You shook the thought away and focused on the Gryffindor Captain instead.
Moments later, Angelina, Oliver, and Katie flew over, beaming. “Oi, you lot! Come play a friendly match with us!” Angelina called, gesturing eagerly.
You hesitated. “Oh, I don’t know... I’m not really—”
“Come on, it’s just for fun,” Oliver encouraged, flying closer. His eyes met yours, playful and inviting. You wanted to impress him. So, against better judgment, you stood and dusted off your robes. The four of you made your way down to the grassy field, and used some spare brooms.
Ginny, Hermione, and Gabriella exchanged amused glances but joined in as well.
You borrowed a broomstick—the nearest one, which happened to be Fred’s. "Can I?" You smirked, turning to Fred who took a quick break, reaching into his bag for his bottle.
"Yeah yeah, if you break it I'll crack your head." Fred teased, before chugging his water. With that, you kicked off the ground, feeling the rush of wind as you soared into the air.
The game was lighthearted, filled with teasing and playful competition. You and Oliver found yourselves in the same airspace often, exchanging witty remarks and laughter.
It felt effortless, easy. Below, Fred stood watching, arms crossed, watching in amusement as you 'bonded' with Oliver. Though you weren't sure if amusement, was the right word to use here, seeing how he kept tapping his foot.
“You’re getting the hang of this!” Oliver grinned, flying beside you.
“I’m just trying to keep up,” you joked, glancing at him.
So caught up in the moment, you didn’t notice the Bludger hurtling toward you until it slammed into your shoulder with brutal force.
Pain exploded through your arm, and your broom wobbled violently beneath you. You gasped as your grip faltered, and before you knew it, you were falling.
The ground rushed toward you, and you thudded harshly on the grassy patch. Ouch.
Oliver flew down hastily, but before he could reach you, Fred was already there, kneeling beside you, face pale.
“Are you daft?” he scolded, voice tight. “Didn’t you see that Bludger?”
You winced, trying to sit up. “It wasn’t that bad—”
“Not that bad? You fell from twenty feet up,” he snapped, his hands hovering over you like he didn’t know where to touch in case he hurt you further. “You’re going to the hospital wing.”
Oliver finally reached you, eyes filled with concern. “You alright?” He looked from you to Fred, who was still kneeling beside you, jaw clenched.
“I’m fine,” you muttered, but Fred wasn’t having it. Before you could protest, he scooped you up effortlessly, ignoring your weak protests.
“You’re being overdramatic,” you huffed, but your heart betrayed you, beating erratically against your ribs as Fred carried you toward the castle.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he shot back, striding forward without a second glance at Oliver, who remained standing on the pitch, watching with an expression that hinted he had figured something out.
He observed as Fred held you close, furrowing his eyebrows slightly, "Hm." He was so sure that you and Fred were just friends, but the way Fred acted today made Oliver doubtful.
The others stayed back to practice, you assured them that you were fine, and that there was no need to come.
___
Madam Pomfrey fussed over you, muttering about reckless students and dangerous sports as she poured a bitter healing potion down your throat. “You’re lucky it wasn’t a full-speed hit,” she chided, waving her wand to mend the bruising on your shoulder.
Fred stayed beside you the whole time, leaning against the infirmary bed with that signature mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “So, you were trying to impress Wood, huh?” he mused, arching a brow.
“Shut up,” you muttered, cheeks warming.
“Not my fault you nearly died doing it,” he teased, nudging you playfully. “Maybe I should give you some lessons on how to survive Quidditch.”
You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe I should give you lessons on how to stop being so intolerable.”
Fred smirked. “Where’s the fun in that?”
You laughed, the earlier pain fading into the background as the two of you fell into easy conversation.
He stayed with you the rest of the day until you felt better enough to head back to your dorm.
____
The next day, the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin match had the entire school buzzing with chatter. The game was brutal, with Slytherin coming in close, though Gryffindor still came out victorious.
The moment the Snitch was caught, the stands erupted into cheers, the players celebrating mid-air before descending to the field. You watched Fred among them, his face lit up with triumph. When his eyes met yours, something unspoken passed between you.
And you weren’t so sure anymore if Oliver Wood was the one making your heart race.
You, Hermione and Gabriella made your way down to the team, "You guys smashed it out there." You chimed, clapping for the them.
"Couldn't have done it without your support." Oliver walked over to you, hi-fiving your hand which you extended for him.
"You played amazingly, especially in the second half! Fred—the way you hit the bludger right before it touched the ground, just, wow!" Gabriella beamed, waving her hands around expressively.
"Hey, all in a day's work." Fred expressed, cockily brushing his hands together which earned a giggle from Gabriella.
"You know, you should come to the party tonight, hosted by yours truly." Fred shuffled closer to Gabriella, extended his arms as he gave himself credit for hosting the party.
"More of a team effort actually, he just talks too much." Lee quipped, "But yeah, you guys should come. Gryffindor common room, at 7."
"We'll be there." Gabriella replied for the two of you, twirling her hair as she smiled sweetly at Fred.
You were happy for her truly, especially Fred, who was grinning back at her, engaging in a new conversation about what'll transpire at the party tonight.
You were happy. Yes, you were.
But, does someone who is supposedly happy for their friend, feel a pit in their stomach every time they watch them with their respective crush?
____
"How do I look?" Gabriella asked, gesturing to her outfit, fitted flared blue jeans and a yellow peplum top, with a yellow bow to accessorise.
"You look stunning, Fred's going to love it!" You chimed, "Oh wait, here-" You helped straightened her bow from the behind, "Perfect."
"Look who's talking, Oliver's going to swoon over you when he sees you in that black dress!" Gabriella stood beside you, looking in the full body mirror, shaking with excitement for the party.
The two of you made your way over to the Gryffindor common room, met with a few ravenclaws and fellow hufflepuffs by the portrait entrance.
It was no surprise that the common room was alive with celebration and merriment. You and Gabriella stepped inside, immediately greeted by George and Lee, who enthusiastically showed you around.
"Welcome welcome! You guys look great!" Lee hyped you two up, always the enhusiast.
Laughter, chatter, and the warmth of victory filled the space. As your eyes scanned the room, they landed on Fred and Oliver by the fireplace, who spotted you and beckoned you both over with bright grins.
After a while of lively conversation in the group, you and Gabriella naturally parted ways—her heading away to the couch with Fred while Oliver guided you to where his friends stood.
You chatted and laughed, but something felt off. Your attention was divided, and no matter how much you tried to focus on Oliver and his friends, your eyes kept finding Fred’s.
Across the room, you noticed his eyes constantly meeting yours, just as much as yours longed to find his.
You were snapped out of your gaze when one of Oliver’s friends playfully nudged you, shoving a drink into your hands. “Come on, have some firewhiskey on me! You’ve got to celebrate properly!”
"Oh wow, where'd you manage to get that?" You asked, curious as to how he managed to sneak in alcohol. Granted, he was older than you so it was fair to assume he was more daring when it came to liquor.
"I have my sources." The guy wiggled his brows, "Come on, drink up Y/N, join us!"
You hesitated. “I’m good, really.”
“Oh, don’t be a buzzkill. Just one!” He pushed again, grinning as if it were a challenge.
“I said I don’t want to.” Your voice was firmer now, but he rolled his eyes.
Oliver sensed your discomfort and interjected swiftly, “Knock it off Felix. She doesn’t have to drink if she doesn’t want to.”
"Alright alright, you're just a wee girl after all innit." Felix chuckled, "More for me then."
Wee girl? Merlin, who does he think he is? You scoffed to yourself, shifting closer to Oliver.
Still, the group laughed it off, and you suddenly felt uncomfortable, wanting to be anywhere but here. You excused yourself quickly, heading upstairs to a quieter gryffindor study room.
The party noise faded, and you sank into one of the couches, taking a deep breath.
A knock came at the door, before it slowly opened.
Truthfully, a wave of relief washed over you when you saw Fred entering, his usual smugness replaced with something softer. “Saw Felix being a git, it's safe to say he won't ever bother you again.”
Fred's implication that he had a word with Felix made you all the more relieved, you exhaled softly, nodding.
You smiled weakly. “Thanks.”
He stood at the doorframe for a second, inspecting your state before slowly walking over. The couch dipped upon the weight of him as he sat beside you.
“You okay?” He nudged you with his body gently.
You nodded, looking forward though you felt his gaze on you. “Yeah. Just needed a minute.”
He listened intently, offering you the silence you much needed after the earlier commotion.
There was a pause before you turned to face him, “How’s it going with Gabriella?”
Fred shrugged. “Good,” he lied, then exhaled. “Alright, fine. She’s nice, but I think I bored her to death. She’s talking to Neville about some plants now.”
You chuckled. “Plants are fascinating.”
“To you, maybe. Not exactly my best topic,” Fred admitted. "Might buy a bouquet or two, but other than that I'm clueless."
"If you do, red roses are the way to go. She loves them, practically every girl does."
"Including you?"
"I adore them. Sounds a bit basic but they're a classic for a reason, they're just so...romantic." Your eyes glistened as you spoke about roses, dreaming of the day someone would buy you flowers.
"Noted, I'll pass a good word to Oliver." Fred chuckled, smiling at the way your eyes lit up, but his smiled disappeared when you frowned, a sigh escaping your lips.
“I think I’m losing it with Oliver. I feel like a total idiot for not drinking in front of him and his friends."
Fred shook his head. “Nah, you’re not an idiot....maybe a little, but not a full blown one." You slapped his arm playfully, but he continued, raising his hands in defence, "If anything, that makes you better than them. You don’t need to do anything to impress him, so what if you don't feel like drinking?”
"I don't think I'll face him again, if his friends hate me, he'll probably grow to dislike me." You groaned, burying your face in your hands.
"Nothing a little flirting can't solve," Fred was optimistic, attempting to cheer you up in this moment of despair, "Next time you see him, get more touchy. When you laugh, place a hand on his arm, lean on him, lean in to him...y'know, the usual."
"Ugh, in front of his friends?" You grumbled.
"All the better, shows you've got game." He continued to give you tips on how to approach Oliver again later, helping you plan your next move.
It was only fair of you to return the favour, leaning in slightly. “Right, so, lean in when you talk to her, like this,” you said, demonstrating the closeness.
Fred swallowed, blinking at you. “Like this?” He mimicked you, your shoulders were touching all the more, your face near his neck, his mouth a few inches away from your forehead.
You nodded, voice softer now. “And maybe say something like… ‘Your eyes are a remarkable shade of hazel, I never noticed how stunning they were until up close now. They sparkle beautifully in the moonlight, yet they manage to shine even brighter when you're caring.’”
It was meant for Gabriella. But as you spoke, something in your chest tightened. You were speaking to Fred. Really speaking to him. His hazel eyes met yours, and he leaned in once more.
His mouth parted slightly, as his eyes darted to your lips then back to your eyes. You found yourself leaning in too, your breathing became heavy.
Your heart felt like it was going to pounce out of your chest with the rate it was beating.
The air between you stilled as you both realised the weight of your words.
Before he could respond, the door creaked open. You and Fred jumped apart just as Oliver and Gabriella entered, looking at you both in confusion.
“There you are, we were wondering where you two had vanished off too.” Gabriella remarked, her eyes darting from Fred to you.
Your heart raced and Fred's face flushed a shade of red. Though completely innocent, if felt as though you were caught doing something you weren't supposed to be doing.
Flustered, you quickly went to Oliver, while Gabriella made her way to Fred.
The rest of the party carried on, fun and lively, but you couldn’t shake the strange feeling that lingered. No matter how much you tried to focus on Oliver, your gaze kept drifting back to Fred.
____
The anticipation leading up to the Yule Ball had everyone on edge. With the Yule Ball near approaching, the talk of the castle revolved around the ball; students asking each other to the dance, flowers being exchanged, and whispers filling the corridors.
You woke up that morning with only one name in your mind—Fred Weasley. It was irritating, really. You weren’t supposed to be thinking about him. You liked Oliver. You were going with Oliver. And yet, Fred’s stupid, mischievous grin had invaded your thoughts like an unrelenting charm.
At breakfast, you sat with Gabriella at your usual hufflepuff table, chatting about the Yule Ball. She was gushing about how beautiful everything was going to look, the magical snowflakes, the ice sculptures, the romantic lighting. You smiled along, but your mind was elsewhere. Across the hall, Fred was laughing with George, but every so often, you swore you caught him glancing at you.
After your 'Defence Against the Dark Arts' class, you walked out with Harry, Ron, and Hermione when Oliver approached. He was holding a bouquet of red roses, his confident smile making you a blushing mess.
"Y/N," he said warmly, holding out the flowers. "Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the Yule Ball?"
You paused, then beamed. "Of course, Oliver. I'd love to!" He pulled you in for a warm hug while students around you cheered, and whistled loudly.
You were happy—you really were. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? But as you took the roses, a strange heaviness settled in your chest.
Later that day, you found yourself with Fred, helping him prepare to ask Gabriella. You were ranting about Oliver, swooning over how charming he was. Fred, though smiling, was already fuming inside. He wanted to be happy for you. He wanted to believe this was all fine. But every word you spoke about Oliver grated on his nerves.
"Do you think Gabriella will like this?" Fred asked, holding up a box of assorted chocolates, changing the topic quickly after countless nods and 'that's great' as a response to you gushing over Oliver.
You turned to him, considering. "Yeah, she will, can't go wrong with chocolate. You got this, Freddie!"
"Right," he said, running a hand through his hair, looking more uncertain than usual. He was prolonging it, he knew it. He didn't want to ask her. He had someone else on his mind now. But what choice did he have? You were already going with Oliver.
When he finally did ask Gabriella in the courtyard, you cheered for him, clapping as she said yes. It was the right outcome—technically, you both won. And yet, watching Fred grin as he hugged Gabriella filled you with an unexpected wave of envy.
_____
The Yule Ball arrived in a flurry of excitement. You walked down the stairs with Oliver, arm in arm, dressed in your most elegant red gown. Across the entrance, you saw Fred with Gabriella. You both gave each other thumbs-up and smiled, though your smile never quite reached your eyes, nor did Fred's.
As you approached the entrance, Oliver and Gabriella walked in first, conversing with each other, leaving you and Fred standing alone for a moment.
Fred shoved his hands into his pockets before breaking the silence, "So…we both got what we wanted."
You exhaled, forcing a smile. "Yeah…we both got with our dates. All too smoothly, I might add."
You both chuckled, but there was an undeniable weight in the air.
"You look nice, cleaned up well for Oliver eh? Lucky bloke." Fred joked, though his voice was laced with subtle serious undertone.
"Hm, you don't look like a grindylow for once, I see you clean up pretty nicely too."
He chuckled softly, removing his hands from his pockets. Neither of you moved, it was as though a silent message of 'please stay here with me' was shared.
You hesitated before extending your hand. "Thank you, Fred. For everything."
He took your hand, shaking it lightly, but neither of you let go. There was a static, a spark, if you would, something both of you didn’t want to ignore. You both looked down at your touching hands, then back to each other.
Oblivious as to what the other party was thinking, the two of you decided to ignore it, let go, and move on, for the better, right?
"So, that's our deal done then?" you said slowly, though regretting it.
Fred swallowed hard, nodding. "Yeah. I'll, uh…see you around school then."
Your heart clenched, but for the sake of the ball, you put on your best grin. "I'll see you around, Fred."
You then turned to Oliver who was a few steps ahead, extending his arm to you. As you walked with him into the ballroom, you turned back one last time.
Fred was still standing there. You waved. He waved back, smiling—but his eyes told you that there was something masked beneath that smile. Gabriella came up to him, and they walked inside together, you turned forward to let them have their moment.
The ball was everything you imagined—beautiful, magical, enchanting. Oliver was the perfect gentleman, twirling you around the dance floor, kissing your hand, your cheek, your forehead, even. He got you punch, held the door open, pulled out your chair, he was the ideal guy, truly ticking off all your boxes.
You smiled at him, but your heart was never quite satisfied, there was a space yet to be filled.
And you hated that you knew why.
Your eyes kept drifting to him. He was dancing with Gabriella, but his mind was far away. Uncomfortable. Lost.
You chuckled to yourself, shaking off this silly feeling, turning your attention back to Oliver, who was explaining about his latest tactics for the upcoming Quidditch match with ravenclaw.
____
Later that night, Oliver walked you back to your common room. He leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to the back of your hand. "Goodnight, Y/N."
You lips curled up into a grateful smile, thanking him for the wonderful evening, but as he turned to leave, something inside you snapped.
If something was wrong, you needed to fix it. Merlin, what's the point in waiting? If something didn't feel right, your gut knew that you had to fix it right away. And this, was one of those moments.
You turned on your heel and ran in your red gown. Through the castle, past students, up and down staircases—you had no plan, no direction, just a need to find him.
Until you did.
At the main staircase, you froze. Fred was at the bottom, looking up at you. He was holding a bouquet of red roses.
Your throat tightened, immediately regretting your decision. "For Gabriella?"
Fred shook his head. "No." He stepped forward, "They're for you."
Your paused, holding your breath as he started walking up the stairs, to you.
"Y/N, I—" Fred hesitated, then exhaled sharply. "I don’t want Gabriella. I don't think I ever did, truthfully. I just…I wanted to be with you. And I was too much of a git to see it until it was too late."
Tears burned at your eyes. "Fred—"
"I don't care about the deal. I don't care about anything except you. I don't want to ever lose you Y/N. And if I have to watch you with Oliver one more time, I think I might actually go mental."
He was close now, the roses in one hand, the other reaching for you.
You let out a shaky laugh. "You're such a git, you know that?"
Fred grinned, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek and tucking it behind your ear. "Yeah. But I’m your silly git, if you'll have me."
You didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. You surged forward, crashing your lips to his, your hands gripping his suit. He dropped the flowers, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him.
It was passionate, desperate, hungry, everything you had ever wanted but had been too blind to admit. The kiss of two people who were starving and desperately in need of each other. Fred savoured every bit of your mouth, as though tomorrow would never come, ending with a sweet peck.
When you finally pulled back, breathless, a grin sprawled across that deviously handsome face of his, his hair messy but Merlin, it was such a look on him. "So, I take it that’s a yes, love?"
You laughed, leaning your forehead against his. "Yes, you fool."
Fred cupped your face, thumb brushing over your cheek once again. "Best deal I’ve ever made."
it was late, and the burrow collapsed into a peaceful silence, the only sounds were ron's snores from the other room and the occasional whistle of the wind.
you couldn't sleep. you sighed, twisting and turning in the mattress trying to will yourself to a slumber but it was useless.
you sat up, brushing your strands away from your face and slowly standing up, careful to not wake ginny with your movement.
you carefully twisted the doorknob, cringing as it groaned with the movement once you pushed it open.
you stepped out, shutting it close more cautiously before walking down the stairs as quiet as you could.
you made your way to the kitchen, brain focused on getting some peace and quiet after bickering with fred all day. but of course, the universe was twisted and craned in some way in which you could never get what you wanted.
fred was already there, eating what looked like was the last slice of pie.
you stopped by the doorway, groaning quietly yet still in a dramatic fashion under your breath
he looked up once he noticed your presence, the corners of his lips twitching up into a smirk and without missing a beat,
"wow, you look even more annoying under the moonlight"
you rolled your eyes "wow, you sound even more insufferable when everyone else is asleep"
he huffed, tho there was a grin etched onto his face, like your irritation was his oxygen
"atleast i don't argue with portraits"
you glared at him through your peripheral
"atleast i didn't lose a fight with a jinxed cauldron"
you shot back, before turning around and "accidentally" pressing the heated up ceramic of your tea cup to his forearm
he jerked back, a hiss slithering from behind his teeth "bloody-!"
you took a sip of your tea to hide your grin "oops."
he stared at you for a beat, eyes wide with disbelief "you did that on purpose"
you took another slow sip, eyes locked on his "you're lucky i didn't aim for your face"
fred rubbed his arm, still grinning which got on your nerves more.
"you're the only person who makes me consider changing my name and fleeing the country"
you raised an eyebrow "you'd need a better personality for that"
the kettle whistled behind you, the shrill sound piercing the quiet.
then, footsteps creaked upstairs and you both froze. you backed off first when you were sure the tapping of feet stopped, spinning around and kicking off on your heel, feeling his stare trail behind you as you faded upstairs
the cool water pelted on your skin, the quick paced rush of the water falling from the showerhead almost feeling like a harsh storm
you liked it that way, it drowned out the memory of that sly smirk, the one where it knows exactly where it hurts and keeps pressing.
you hummed the tune of an old muggle song your mother always listened to, can't help falling in love by elvis presley.
the soft sound of your voice echoed in the ceramic tiles of the bathroom, echoing off of the porcelain
you reached for your shampoo, lightly squeezing the goo onto your palm.
it smelled of coconuts and vanilla, the silken liquid shimmering under the soft light.
you massaged it into your scalp, letting it sit for a while before rinsing it out. but instead of getting the foamy bubbled up slurry sliding down your strands like you expected,
you got a bright blue liquid watered down by the shower creeping its way down your shoulders.
you shrieked, turning off the tap and wrapping a towel around your frame.
you peeked into the mirror, and your once y/h/c locks were an angry loud blue.
"FREDERICK GIDEON WEASLEY!!!" you screeched, your voice nearly loud enough to awake the ghoul in the attic
in the span of 30 seconds, george skidded infront of the door, dragging a grumbling fred along.
george rapped on the door, and you yanked it open, practically fuming from your ears.
george paused when he saw your hair, his fist still held up in the air whilst his twin cackled behind him
"this was not my doing, it was him, it was purely him!" george frantically said, stepping out of the way as to not get pulled into your fury
"you. absolute. arse!" you exclaimed, jabbing your finger into fred's chest after every word to accentuate the venom in your tone
fred grinned down at you, looking completely unapologetic.
"bite suits you," he said with feigned sincerity "really brings out the rage in your eyes."
your jaw went slightly ajar, towel clutched tightly around your dripping body.
"you think this is funny?" you exasperated, stepping closer.
his grin widened, like his existence was completely fueled by your irritation and anger.
"hilarious, actually." he snickered, the light from the candle behind you reflecting in his eyes, turning them into molten mischief. there was amusement flickering in them, like he was daring you to lose control.
you scoffed in disbelief, shaking your head.
george, wisely, trotted down the staircase, muttering something about not wanting to die young.
"you know," he tossed out, maddeningly casual. "i would've gone with y/f/c, but i figured you'd might actually like that."
"i don't know what twisted satisfaction you get from ruining everything you touch, fred. my shampoo. my hair. everything."
oh, how badly you wanted to say "me.", but you didn't want to fuel his ego by admitting that.
fred quirked up an eyebrow, like he was thoroughly amused.
"aww, come on. you're acting like i hexed your soul instead of your shampoo."
you stepped forward again, toe to toe, effectively caging him against the stair railing, irritation gathered up on your expression.
"you hex my mornings. my peace. my sanity. you're a disaster, fred weasley. everytime i see your face, i feel my IQ drop." you spat, jabbing your finger into his chest again, harder this time.
he peered down at you, the height difference more evident from the little to nothing space between you two, so close he could count the droplets of water on your collarbones.
he blinked slowly, before grinning once more. the wicked smile that scorched everything soft inside of you.
"and yet, you keep looking."
"i look because I’m trying to confirm that you’re real. that someone like you actually exists. that the universe had the audacity to make you this insufferable."
he opened his mouth, but you cut him off.
"no. shut up. you dont get to speak. if i even hear your voice today ill obliterate your vocal chords and dance on the ashes."
and just then, you heard molly marching up the staircase, george trailing behind her with a small guilty smile.
you both snapped your heads towards the sound, and you stepped back, a smug smirk on your face as you tilted your head menacingly, knowing what was to come.
fred's eyes widened involuntarily as he saw his mother's ginger hair ascending up the stairs.
"what is the fuss george is telling me abou-" molly started, before pausing similarly like george earlier once she saw your bright blue strands. she slowly turned her gaze to fred, a stern look on her face.
"mum, wait-" was all you heard from fred, before running to ginny's room, where you always stay when you're at the burrow, shutting the door with a giggle.
ginny looked up at you from where she sat criss-cross on her bed, her eyebrows furrowing when she saw your hair.
"im guessing fred?" she questioned, her gaze following you as you neared her
"yup, and hes in trouble with molly." you responded to her question, a grin playing on your face.
she snickered, high-fiving you as you sat down on the bed next to her.
you chatted with ginny for a few minutes, before george barged in.
you both looked at him, and he held up a hand while catching his breath
"okay- wait- alright." he said, grinning as he finally caught his breath, he held up a letter like he was the statue of liberty and that was his torch
"what is it?" you asked, standing up and approaching him
"LEE'S COMING TO THE BURROW TOMORROW!!" he screeched out, startling you for a moment before you let out a similar sound when the words loaded into your brain
"merlin help me." ginny groaned dramatically, not fancying you four being in the same room causing chaos.
after molly forced fred to fix your hair, which he did unwillingly so, you were in the living room infront of the fire place sitting on the ground next to ginny and ron.
"and he's just so, so, so irritating. like, NO ONE CARES. he talks far too much. his ego is even bigger than his height and that says alot, why is he built like the bloody eiff-"
you ranted, but stopped mid sentence when ginny was giving you a weird smirk
your eyebrows knitted together and you tilted your head slightly
"what?"
ginny snickered, a knowing glint in her eyes
"you know.. for someone who supposedly hates fred you sure do talk about him alot"
you blinked at her, before a look of pure horror overcame your face as if she just insinuated you fancied a blast-ended skrewt
"im not talking about him, im complaining about him. he's like a migraine if you turned it into a weasley."
ginny raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying herself.
"are you sure? i mean.. you're talking about how tall he is.."
ron snorted into his hot cocoa, which earned a glare from you
"NO! not like that! i compared his height to his ego! thats different." you defended, your voice coming out a bit too sharp.
ginny giggled, shooting you an unconvinced look "sure.."
you shook your head in exasperation
"i mean it! hes insufferable. he walks into a room and the air gets ten degrees more irritating. and don't get me started on that awful, smug, ugly grin. merlin, i see it in my dreams." you shot back, disgust rolling off of your tongue.
ginny bit her lip, trying not to laugh
"you dream about him?"
you froze, your eyes widening slightly
"i meant nightmare! he appears in my nightmares." you said quickly, too quickly.
"someones defensive" george perked up from the couch in a sing-songy voice, and you groaned loudly
"obviously! you lot are acting like im in love with a man who i saw flick a booger in his food when he was eight."
ron leaned in "you sure are passionate about remembering stuff about him.."
"its not passion! its irritation. i can't look at his face without my entire day getting ruined." you responded, snapping your head towards ron
"sounds like passion to me.." george teased
you flopped onto your back on the rug, muttering your annoyances under your breath
"i hate all of you."
george tossed a chocolate frog at you "you love us. you just hate fred."
you caught the chocolate frog mid air, biting into its head with irritation.
"exactly. and i will continue to hate him until the day he stops breathing in my direction."
from the hallway, like summoned by your fury, fred's voice rang out
"oi! i heard that!"
"good. maybe next time ill say it louder." you snapped back, glaring at the direction his voice echoed from.
fred snickered from down the hall, amused just enough for it to grate on your nerves in the worst way possible.
after half an hour, you were taking a nap on the couch while ginny and ron played wizard's chess. george went upstairs around 15 minutes ago to do merlin knows what.
suddenly, ginny jumped on you and you shrieked, your heart stopping for 2 seconds.
"GIN WHAT THE FUCK-!" you choked out, utterly taken aback
"dinnneeeeeerrr tiime" she drawled, as if she hadn't nearly sent you into cardiac arrest
"merlin help me.." you muttered, "five more minutes.."
"fine, but if ron eats all the treacle tart don't whine"
"oi!" ron glared
you just huffed and closed your eyes again, a soft yawn slipping from your lips
"ill be there in a bit.." you murmured drowsily, cuddling closer to the cushions
ginny sighed, knowing there was no way to convince you to get up
"alright, you better be down there in 5 minutes or ill drag you down"
"yeah, yeah, ill be down there.." you mumbled, trying to let yourself relax for a few more minutes
you twisted and turned, but couldn't seem to get comfortable again.
you sighed in exasperation, sitting up and stretching your limbs
with another yawn you forced yourself up with a sleepy grunt, directing yourself to the dining area while rubbing the sleep out of your eyes
"there you are dear, go have a seat" molly's warm smile greeted, prancing around the kitchen to grab dishes and whatnot.
the corners of your lips twitched upwards into a soft smile, letting your eyes scan for an available seat
every seat was taken.
except for one.
next to him.
you froze for a beat. ginny caught your eye from across the table, and she gave you a sheepish smile.
fred glanced up from his roast potatoes, and his expression immediately dropped into a scowl
"brilliant," he muttered, dragging it out as if it physically pained him. "just what i needed to ruin my appetite."
you gritted your teeth, glowering at him as he shifted in his seat, clearly trying to take up more space.
"don't flatter yourself," you snapped, dropping into the seat with a thud. "id eat in the attic with the ghoul if i could."
"no ones stopping you, i encourage it actually." he shot back, glaring as you sat down.
"id rather suffer here than give you gloating rights, fred." you sneered, his name leaving a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.
he scoffed, tearing into his food aggressively like it owed him an apology.
you rolled your eyes, grabbing some mac and cheese and biting into it as if you could pour out your rage with every sink of your teeth into the pasta.
you reached for the salmon, and so did he. your fingers brushed, and you both recoiled like you just brushed hot iron.
"merlin," he muttered "can't even have dinner in peace without you being a pain in the arse."
you jerked your head towards him, swiveling your seething gaze in the direction of his infuriating face.
"you wouldn't know peace if it hexed you in the face." you spat, easing your glance to your plate again.
he stabbed into his carrot with a little too much force, as if he were wishing it was you instead.
"you've got a lot to say for someone who acts like i ruined your life."
you poured gravy over your mashed potatoes slowly, watching the peppery liquid pool inside the makeshift volcano-like dent you made.
"i talk to muffle the sound of your annoying chewing."
he reached for the butter whilst you reached for the salt, causing your elbows to collide.
he huffed in irritation, much like you.
"do you have to sit like that?"
you didn't move, speaking in a tone that mocked his
"do you have to exist like that?"
he turned to you, eyes narrowed. you turned to him, jaw clenched.
you stared at eachother with pure unfiltered hate in your iris, tucked behind the row of lashes.
not one of you blinked, eyes never wavering once. no one spoke nor moved. just pouring all the hatred in your veins with eyecontact.
ginny noticed first, pausing mid-bite, fork hovering in the air.
"are they.. are they doing that thing again..?"
george snorted, leaning in "yeah, the look where they don't know whether to hit eachother or snog out of irritation."
ron looked up, genuinely confused. "i don't get it, are they fighting or flirting?"
ginny grinned "both. its their love language."
fred's jaw twitched.
you cocked up an eyebrow as if to challenge him.
george mirrored ginny's grin "ten sickles they'll either duel or shag before dessert."
she snickered, before whispering back "id pay to watch both"
fred blinked.
you smirked.
he groaned, dragging a hand down his face "you're insufferable."
you picked up your fork, victorious. "and you're predictable."
just then, molly entered with a tray of scones, pausing when she saw you two side by side, tension practically vibrating off of the table.
she raised an eyebrow "you two behaving?"
fred opened his mouth to speak, but you sharply jabbed your elbow into his side and he hissed under his breath
"perfectly" you responded sweetly, a smile of feigned innocence taking over your expression.
he winced, rubbing his side, but the glare he shot you was molten.
you two sat there quietly, like a storm bottled into a flimsy bottle. contained yet ready to explode at any moment.
it was 3 in the morning, you were still tossing and turning around in bed trying to doze off.
the only sound filling the room were ginny's soft snores and your steady breath.
you sighed, turning to lay flat on your back, staring at the still ceiling as if it held all the answers in the universe.
his words circled in your head, spiraling you into the familiar train of thoughts, but it felt different this time.
only a subtle difference tho, like two paintings switching places.
you groaned softly, burying your face into the pillow.
why do we keep tearing eachother apart like its the only way we know how to speak?
why do i keep breathing when every word he says steals the air from my lungs?
why do i keep hoping he'll break first, just so i don't have to?
why do we keep pretending this isn’t killing us, when hate has always been the only thing we’ve ever done right?
you weren't really angry anymore.
just... tired.
it was rare you let these thoughts crawl into your mind, only ever thinking about the raw hate you had for him.
but, sometimes, when its quiet at the burrow and most are asleep, it threatens to cloud up your thoughts.
the whys. the what ifs.
you don't really know why you've always hated eachother.
you were so caught up in hating him, you forgot why you hated him in the first place.
you racked your brain, but nothing came up. you only remember both of you having a seething hatred for eachother.
you shook your head to rid of the thought of you both ever liking eachother at some point when you were younger, turning on your side to attempt to go to bed again.
the morning sun filtered through the kitchen windows, casting a soft glow on the mugs of tea.
you sat at the table, trying to look alive despite the fact that sleep had treated you like a joke.
your brain had spent the night replaying every glare, every jab, and every insult, trying to remember why you even started despising eachother.
fred sat across from you, making sure it was painfully obvious that he let his expression twist into a grimace sharp enough to cut glass everytime his gaze reverted to you.
you rolled your eyes at him, when suddenly the fireplace flared out green flames, spitting out a dramatically coughing lee.
"LEE!" you, fred, and george screeched out far too loud for the hour in unison.
without hesitation, you three sprung up onto your feet.
you shoved fred, a bit harder than you intended.
"move, frederick." you snapped, elbowing him square in the ribs
he stumbled side ways, nearly knocking over a chair "oi! what the hell-"
"im more important" you snickered, exaggerated mock sweetness in your tone.
george, who was already next to lee, wheezed into his hand.
lee blinked, laughing between coughs "did someone just get body checked for me? i feel so loved"
you tackled him into a hug the moment you reached him "thank merlin you're here, you aren't very sane either but you're saner than them"
"hey!" george and ginny exclaimed at the same time
fred finally caught up, rubbing his side while grumbling "she assaulted me!"
you rolled your eyes once more at his dramatics, shoving his shoulder, not as hard as you elbowed him earlier though.
"don't be dramatic."
lee grinned, eyes flickering between you two "honestly, you two do know theres a difference between fighting and flirting, right?"
you and fred jerked your heads towards lee in sync, a look of pure mortification displayed on both your faces.
"can we not?" fred exasperated, and you kept the grimace on your face like the mere thought nauseated you.
"im just saying! you two argue like its foreplay" lee defended, pulling a cackle from ginny's throat
"WHAT?" you both shouted, and lee covered his ears
"IM JOKING!...mostly." lee added the last part quietly, throwing his hands up in surrender
you narrowed your eyes "you better be"
fred muttered under his breath "he's not."
lee smirked "okay, maybe around ten percent joking. but come on! you two argue like an old married couple."
you swiftly threw a cushion from the couch, aiming at lee's head
fred groaned dramatically "you're lucky i won't hex you"
you snorted "you couldn't throw a hex if it costed your life."
fred turned to you, an offended look on his expression "excuse me-"
lee clapped once, loudly. "you two start earlier everyday. im impressed."
ginny snickered "they start as soon as they even enter into eachothers line of sight"
lee dropped onto the couch dramatically, sighing as if he were ready for a show
"i live for this, its like two explosions colliding in slow motion"
fred huffed in exasperation "i need a restraining order."
you rolled your eyes the third time this morning
"you're acting like i stole your broom"
fred didn't even look up "you did steal my broom"
you blinked slowly "..that was two summers ago!"
fred grumbled "still!"
george and lee looked at eachother then at both of you with a knowing grin
"five sickles they're secretly dating" lee whispered loudly to george
"nah, ten they'll start dating by the end of summer." george whispered back in the same volume
fred groaned again, dragging a hand over his face "i hate you all"
ginny snapped her head towards fred "what did i do!"
you smirked "you hate me more"
lee held up a finger "but not as much as he lets off"
fred turned to lee slowly "do you want another cushion to the face"
lee shrugged "worth it"
you grabbed another pillow and tossed it at him with zero hesitation, and lee yelped, catching it mid air and hugging it like a trophy
"YES! I GOT IT! ITS LIKE A SOUVENIR FROM THEM TEAMING UP FOR ONCE!" he screeched, and george tried to grab it from him but lee smacked his hand away
"honestly, im just waiting for the day they slip up and call eachother 'love'" ginny teased, a lopsided grin crawling onto her expression
fred made a retching sound, pretending to throw up in his hand
"i would rather snog a grindylow."
you shot an eyebrow up "you already look like one."
ginny choked on her tea
and then, molly walked in, wearing a robe with rollers still in her hair, clearly not expecting anyone to be awake at this time.
"oh- goodness me, i didn't expect you lot to be awake at this time. i should start on- oh! lee! dear boy how long has it been since ive seen you?" molly rambled, engulfing lee into a bone crushing hug.
lee sucked in a breath
"its- its nice to see you too molly..!" he managed to choke out with the little oxygen he had in his lungs
george stifled a laugh, gently prying his mother off of his bestfriend
"alright mum, let the boy breathe"
molly reluctantly let lee go, and he smiled, before turning around to discreetly heave
"anyway, what were you lot doing?" molly questioned, putting her hands on her hips.
"watching y/n and fred argue like its a battle ground" ginny responded with a snicker
molly shook her head disapprovingly, sighing as she stared at you two
"its hard to believe the both of you used to be inseparable" she stated, and you both froze
"..what?" fred managed to croak out, looking as bewildered as you.
even the others were stunned into a state of shock, a pregnant beat of silence.
you gaped, unable to form a sentence. did she just say that? you weren't hallucinating were you? no, she definitely just said that.
every second felt like a long, stretching, agonizing hour. your chest twisted, and you nearly forgot how to inhale oxygen.
it felt lie someone carved your stomach out, and you zoned out trying to process the new piece of information.
"they- they used to be friends?" lee choked out behind the silence, nearly everyone's jaw ajar.
molly nodded "uh huh, glued to the hip. always off in their little own world."
george blinked "mum, are you sure it wasn't someone else? these two have been at eachothers throats since, well.. forever."
ginny's voice was quieter now, barely above a whisper.
"i thought they were just born hating eachother?"
molly chuckled softly as if she were remembering a warm memory, not peeling her gaze away from the mirror where she was removing her hair rollers
"not always. when they were little, they used to go on and make messes in the living room. cushions and blankets strewn everywhere and hung up fairy lights in their little forts."
you felt your throat run dry.
fred blinked, a quick flicker in his eyes, so quick you almost missed it. yet you caught it. you couldn't tell what it was, but it was different from the usual snark he used around you.
then he scoffed like he was trying to laugh it off "inseperable? mum, i think you've finally lost it. have you hit your head on the kettle?"
molly didn't even flinch "oh, don't be ridiculous dear, you and y/n used to be joined at the hip. always sneaking off to the garden at night, even had your own handshake."
you swallowed harshly, forcing yourself to make a joke, although it sounded strained. "a handshake? i would never let my hand so much as so graze his."
lee leaned forward, eyes wide. "this is like finding out snape used to knit."
george looked at fred, and then at you "i thought you two always hated each other? i mean come on, everytime the two of you are so much in the same room is like the air was replaced with tension."
fred shrugged casually, too casually. "we do."
you didn't say anything. you couldn't. you were still trying to absorb the word inseparable like it was in a different language.
molly kept going, blissfully unaware that she just made both of you question what was real.
"you used to steal my freshly made biscuits that haven't even cooled off properly yet and then eat them by the stairs together, giggling at godric knows what."
george leaned back, unusually serious. "so.. what happened?"
fred pressed his lips into a thin line, then shrugged again, although it looked more like a defense mechanism than a joke.
"she got annoying, i got charming. it was never going to work."
you rolled your eyes despite yourself "more like you got insufferable."
fred smirked, the same twitch of the lips that felt like a blade dipped in spite slicing through your flesh.
"same thing."
molly turned around, a frown displayed on her face. "you used to be so gentle with eachother."
fred hummed, but it sounded bitter.
you licked your lips, same venom in your tone, but it hid something else. something more vulnerable.
"well, not anymore"
molly sighed, staring at both of you with a softness that was too fluid like to carry. "you know, i always thought you two would- nevermind, i should get started on breakfast."
fred's voice was quiet and breathier now, but still laced with sarcasm "come on mum, don't be cryptic, thats her job"
you shot him a glare, but reverted your gaze back to molly like you wanted her to continue her sentence too
molly didn't turn around "nothing, dear. just silly thoughts."
lee leaned towards george, whispering quietly "reckon she was gonna say she thought they were gonna get married?"
george nodded solemnly "for sure."
ron walked in, rubbing his eyes and brushing shoulders lightly with his mother as she exited and walked to the kitchen.
he loudly yawned, then dropped down onto the couch, completely oblivious.
ginny snapepd her head towards ron before groaning "ronald."
it was 8pm and you, fred, lee, george, ginny, and ron were hanging out in the living room.
you and fred kept shooting snarky comments towards eachother like usual, but there was something else buried beneath it all.
he looked at you different. still the usual irritation in his orbs, but it felt off. like the annoyance was just a thin shell protecting something raw.
his gaze lingered on you, and you could feel his stare crawling on your skin.
the chatter around you felt like background noise, and you zoned out, eyes locked on the fire place as your thoughts tangled in what molly said earlier.
you didn't know how to feel. you didn't even know if you could believe it.
then lee made a joke, and you snapped out of it, laughing along, but it didn't feel real, like you were just laughing so you didn't seem unusual.
and yet, everyone felt the shift between the both of you.
fred chimed in and out of the conversation, quieter than usual, like he had the same thoughts in his head.
he leaned against the arm of the couch, arms crossed, eyes flicking toward you every few seconds like he couldn’t help it.
you tried not to notice. tried not to care. but the weight of his stare felt like long nails trying to pry into your flesh.
george cracked a joke about ron's hair looking like a lawn mower ran through it, and all of you slipped into laughter
you threw a jab about fred's shirt, something about it looking like he stole it from a troll who used old clothes as a rag.
he smirked "brave coming from someone who dresses like shes trying to scare off compliments."
you shot up an eyebrow "brave coming from someone whos probably the reason shampoo bottles have instructions."
george snorted, lee wheezed, ron looked like he wanted to disappear, ginny rolled her eyes but she was smiling.
"there they go again, its like the heart to heart with molly earlier never happened" lee sighed out, shaking his head playfully
fred scoffed "why would it? she walks in like shes everybodys favorite when really people only laugh because they don't know her long enough to get tired of her yet."
you paused. it wasn't the comment, it was the tone of his voice.
he didn’t say it like he was trying to win. he said it like it was a fact. like he’d thought it before. like he meant it.
your breath caught in your throat, and there was a flicker of regret on his face, but of course, since it was fred, he didn't take it back, just swallowed it down and looked away.
you inhaled shakily, clearing your throat and forcing an insult out
"funny. i could say the same about you. people only like you because they haven't had to deal with you alone."
his jaw clenched
"atleast i don't have to pretend to be likeable."
the others fell silent, lee shifting uncomfortably and ginny flickering her gaze between the both of you, clearly noticing the change in both of your tones.
you gave a deadpanned look, a stark contrast to how you actually felt.
"i'd rather have a conversation with a wall, atleast it doesn't twist everything i say into something manky."
fred exhaled, sharing the same look as you
"atleast a wall doesn't pretend its worth loving."
you blinked.
oh.
the thick silence felt suffocating.
you were sure that once you were buried six feet underground, the maggots that would dine on your heart would taste the lingering bitterness of his words.
fred's gaze softened, like he didn't mean to go that far.
every ounce of hope you and fred would be different after what molly said evaporated.
you stand up without a word, before stopping by the stairs without turning around
"atleast a wall doesn't need a laugh track to make it feel like it matters." you spat back calmly, before stepping up the stairs
the silence you left was quiet, yet louder than any joke fred had ever cracked.
you wake up with the events of last night still fresh in your mind.
the burrow is quiet once more, save for the distant clatter of pans downstairs. the sunlight filtered through the lace curtains and crooked windows, warm and golden, yet it didn't reach you. not really. atleast not in the depths of your thoughts.
his words echo in your head, like a catchy song you hate but can't stop humming in your brain.
"atleast a wall doesn't pretend its worth loving."
you don't know what hurt more. the insult itself, or the fact it came from him.
from fred weasley.
who was always an arse towards you, yet never cruel like that.
you don't allow yourself to cry. you just stared blankly at the ground like it said something so stupid it couldn't load into your head.
you forced yourself up, bare feet padding against the ground.
fred's at the table, hair messy, buttering toast like he didn't rip you open last night. like he didn't look you in the eyes and stated you were unloveable.
you didn't know what you expected. regret? silence? maybe for him not to show his face at all.
you feel everyones eyes on you the moment you walk in. ginny gives you a soft look, ron glances at fred then back at his plate, george exhales quietly under his breath and brushes a reassuring hand across your arm as you pass.
you sit in between lee and ginny, avoiding eye contact with fred.
"morning" lee whispered, shooting a glare towards fred "you okay?"
you just nod, not trusting yourself to speak
fred glanced your way once, then again, then a third time. longer.
ginny passed you the jam without asking. fred reached for the butter, but hesitates when your hand brushes the dish first, then he pulls back.
you spend the day avoiding corners.
corners mean quiet. quiet means alone. alone means fred.
and you know hes trying to catch you alone.
you see it in the way he lingered near doorways, always a second too late to catch you.
in how he volunteered to help his mother with the laundry the exact moment you do.
in how he suddenly cared about feeding the chickens when you're headed to the coop.
but he's still fred. still sharp. but it was glazed over with something else.
"don't strain yourself trying to be useful," he muttered when you pass him in the hallway.
you don't respond.
you don't even blink.
its the third time today he's tried to bait you. the third time you've given him nothing.
and its driving him mad.
at lunch, he sat across from you, arms crossed, eyes flicking up every few seconds.
you talk to ginny. you laugh with george. and yet, you don't look at him.
he droped his fork, and you don't even flinch.
he cleared his throat exaggeratedly, yet you just keep eating.
later, you escape to the orchid behind the burrow, hoping for peace. but of course, he finds you, suddenly very interested in apples
he sighed loudly behind you, and you pluck a fruit from a tree, ignoring him.
he sighed louder but you don't give in, acting as if he were a gust of wind.
he blinked, and then stepped closer, speaking in a mumble
"i didn't mean it."
you lick your lips, hes still wearing the mask. still smug, still guarded. but his voice cracks, and thats how you know his edges are fraying.
you don't speak. because if he wants to apologize, he'll have to strip the armor off first. and you weren't gonna do it for him.
you stand up, heading back inside and leaving him out there in the scraps of your presence.
you were in ginny's room alone whilst she was downstairs helping molly out with chores.
the events of the day and the night before finally fully loaded into your head, yet you weren’t crying. not yet. but your chest felt like it was caving in.
you hated him. you hated how much you didn’t hate him.
and then, a knock.
soft. hesitant. like they knew they didn't deserve to be there.
you don’t answer, knowing that knock anywhere, but the door creaked open anyway.
fred stepped in, eyes tireder than usual, and he repeated what he said earlier.
"i didn't mean it."
you don’t look at him.
"doesn't matter."
he looked down, and a rare repentant look overcame his expression.
"i was confused and angry, i said it to hurt you."
you finally looked up, your tone dry despite the weight your words carried.
"congrats. it worked."
he flinched.
"i don't think you're unlovable." he said quietly, his voice breaking in the middle. "i think im scared you aren't."
you stared at him, disbelief crossing your face
"you don't get to say that. not after everything."
fred nodded slowly, like he knew. like he’d been waiting for you to say it.
"i know."
he turned to leave, but then he paused.
"but for what its worth.. i think you're the only person who saw me without the jokes. when we were younger, atleast.."
you stood up.
"and you hated it."
he turned back, eyes sharp now.
"no. i hated that it made me feel something."
you stepped closer, voice low, yet scratchy with the hurt from the long periods of arguing.
"then maybe you should've kept your mouth shut."
fred’s jaw clenched.
"maybe you should've stopped pretending you didn't care."
you laughed, bitter and hollow.
"pretending? You think I wanted to care? you think I chose to let you in just so you could break me apart in bits and pieces slowly like it’s a bloody game?"
his voice rose, raw and ragged. "you think I wanted to say that to you? you think I don’t hate myself for it?"
you scoffed, staring at him like he wasn't real
"then why did you say it, fred? why was hurting me the first thing you reached for?"
he blinked, shoulders tense, like he was trying to hold himself together with sheer force.
"because you make me feel like I’m not just the idiot with a punchline. and I didn’t know what to do with that."
you jabbed your finger into his chest harshly
"you can't just twist it into something poetic. not after ruining me."
his breath hitched, voice dropping low.
"you think you didn’t ruin me too?"
you froze.
"you knew exactly where to aim." he breathed out, tone laced with the same hurt yours carried, like he was just as tired.
"every time you called me hollow, or said I was just noise, you knew that would stick. and you said it like you wanted it to."
you stepped forward, voice sharp.
"because I wanted you to feel how I felt!"
his voice got louder, like he was trying to protect the vulnerability in it
"and I did! you think it didn’t wreck me every time you looked at me like I was failing you?"
"I never looked at you like that!" you snapped, "i waited for you! i waited for you to catch up."
"I didn’t know how!" he shouted, "you were changing and I was stuck and I didn’t know how to move!"
"you didn’t need to change!" you cried, "I needed you to grow up with me!"
his eyes softened, but he didn't back down
"and I needed you to stop expecting me to be someone I wasn't ready to be!"
your voice was loud yet breathy, tired from always pushing and pulling when it came to him
"I wasn't expecting anything! I was begging you to care, till it turned into a bloody tug of war every time we spoke."
"i did care! i cared so much it scared the hell out of me!"
"you didn't act like it!"
"i didn't know how to hold it without breaking!"
"you broke me anyway!"
"we broke us!"
and then, all the years of loathing snapped tight.
you didn’t know who moved first.
maybe it was him.
maybe it was you.
but suddenly his hands were in your hair and your mouth was on his.
it was teeth clashing. fury. hurt. it was everything unsaid crashing all at once.
you bit his lip, hard.
he hissed but didn't pull away, his hands tangling tighter in your strands like he needed the pain to ground him.
you shoved him back against the wall, lips still locked, rage pouring out of you in every breath
"i hate you." you gasped against his mouth
"i hate you too." he raggedly spoke against your lips
your teeth sunk into his bottom lip again.
"i hate how you make me feel like im not enough" you spat
"i hate how you make me feel like im too much" he snapped
"i hate that i still want you." you breathlessly whispered
"i hate that i never stopped wanting you.'' he quietly responded, his tone softer. like he was exhausted trying to hate you.
you pulled back first, breathless, eyes wide.
he chased after your lips like it physically pained him to pull away.
"i hate how much i love you." he bit out, like the words burned sliding out.
you stared at him, stunned, chest heaving.
neither of you moved, panting in the air of something you would regret later.
not about setting fire to something you knew you wouldn't be able to stop
yet, it kept happening. it wasn't planned, it wasn't smart, and you didn't know what to do with it.
its been two weeks.
two weeks of pretending.
two weeks of sneaking around.
two weeks of "i despise you" in public, and "come here" in private.
you remember what happened after the kiss.
-
you stared at him, stunned, chest heaving.
his eyes didn’t waver. they were glassy, red-rimmed, but locked on yours like he was daring you to say something that would make it all collapse again.
you didn’t.
you couldn’t.
because the worst part was, you didn’t know if you wanted to scream or kiss him again.
fred’s breathing was uneven, his lip bleeding where your teeth had sunk in. but he didn’t wipe it. didn’t flinch.
he just stood there, wrecked. and waiting.
"i should hate you," you whispered, voice barely holding together.
"i know," he said, "i should hate me too."
silence.
heavy. cracked. fragile.
then, like the room couldn’t hold it anymore, you turned away. just slightly. just enough to break the eye contact.
but he stepped forward, slow. careful. like he knew one wrong move would shatter everything.
"i don’t know how to fix this,” he whispered, "i don’t even know if i can."
you didn’t answer.
because you didn’t know either.
but your fingers twitched at your side, aching to reach for him. to push him away. to pull him closer.
and fred saw it. he always saw it.
so he didn’t touch you.
he just stood there, bleeding from your bite, breathing in your silence, and waiting for the moment to pass.
-
it didn’t. it spiraled from there. the quiet meet ups, the lingering touches, the burning looks.
neither of you knew what it was, but both of you kept showing up like you couldn't help it. like it was a drug you were addicted to.
you’d gone out to grab the broom polish.
that was it.
one errand.
in and out.
but the shed door creaked open and there he was. already inside, crouched by the shelves, muttering to himself as he dug through a box labeled 'DO NOT OPEN (RON).'
you froze in the doorway.
fred looked up, blinked once, and smirked. "well, if it isn’t my favorite stalker."
you stepped inside, letting the door fall shut behind you. "you wish."
he stood, brushing dust off his hands "what are you doing here?"
you raised an eyebrow. "what are you doing here?"
he grinned "i asked first."
you crossed your arms "i was sent for broom polish."
he nodded, stepping closer. "and I was sent for… something i already forgot. but now I’m thinking it might’ve been fate."
you rolled your eyes, but your heart was already doing that thing again. stupid, traitorous, loud.
he was too close. the shed was too small. and the air between you was already thick with everything you weren’t saying.
he leaned against the workbench, arms crossed, eyes on you like he was trying to figure out what version of you he’d get tonight.
you didn’t move.
he tilted his head. "you gonna keep pretending this is a coincidence?"
you shrugged. "you gonna keep pretending you don’t wait for me?"
that shut him up.
for a second, anyway.
then he stepped forward, slow, deliberate, like he was testing the floorboards and the space between you all at once. "you’re in a mood.”
you smirked. "you bring it out of me.”
he grinned wider. "you like it.”
you hated how true that was.
you hated how close he was now, how the shed felt like it was spinning even though neither of you had moved, how you didn't hate it as much as you should.
you hated how much you wanted him to touch you.
so you did it first.
you grabbed the front of his shirt, pulled him in, and kissed him like you were trying to shut him up and set him on fire at the same time.
he kissed you back like he’d been waiting all day.
it was messy. it was fast. it was familiar.
his hands found your waist, yours tangled in his hair, and for a moment, the shed didn’t exist. the burrow didn’t exist. nothing existed except the way he moved his lips against yours like he was trying to memorize it.
when you pulled back, breathless, you didn't let go.
neither did he.
you caught your breath, eyes closed, heart racing. "this is getting dangerous."
you wanted to stomp up the stairs and throw something and yell about how fred weasley was the most infuriating person to ever exist.
but you didn’t.
you just walked.
fast. quiet. controlled.
like if you moved too loudly, someone would hear what your heart was doing.
you ducked into the linen closet again. not because it was romantic. not because it was planned. just because it was the only place in the burrow where the walls didn’t talk.
you leaned against the shelves, arms crossed, breathing hard.
and then you heard footsteps.
you didn’t have to guess.
fred opened the door without knocking, slipped inside, and shut it behind him like he’d done it a hundred times.
you didn’t look at him.
he didn’t speak.
the silence stretched, thick and familiar, like something you’d both learned to wear.
then he whispered, "you storm off like you mean it."
you turned, slow. "you follow me like you don’t."
he stepped closer, eyes soft like he knew he wasn't just a boy you tolerated anymore.
"you throw insults like you’re trying to keep me away."
you didn’t blink. "you catch them like you want to stay."
he was too close now. the closet was too small. and the air between you was already humming.
his voice dropped, just enough to make your breath hitch.
"you always do that thing with your hands when you’re mad.''
you frowned. "what thing?"
he reached out, sliding your hands in his
"that twitch. same one you did right before you kissed me."
you pursed your lips.
he didn’t smile. didn’t smirk. just looked at you like he was waiting for you to lie.
you pulled your hand back. "we’re not talking about that."
"i didn’t say we were."
"you’re implying."
"i’m remembering."
you hated that.
you hated how much you wanted to remember it too.
you stepped back, but the shelves stopped you. he didn’t move.
"you gonna keep pretending?" he asked.
you didn’t answer.
you just stared at him, heart pounding, fingers twitching again.
his eyes flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes.
and you hated that he noticed.
you hated that you wanted him to.
so you stepped forward, and kissed him like you were still mad about it.
like you were trying to shut him up.
like you were trying to make him forget every word he's thrown at you downstairs.
and he kissed you back like he’d been waiting for it.
and for a moment, the world narrowed to breath and heat and the sound of your heart trying to outrun itself.
when you pulled back, you didn’t let go.
neither did he.
"you’re really bad at hating me." he whispered
you smiled. "you’re really good at making me try."
ginny was curled up on the swing, flipping through a magazine.
george and lee were arguing over who’d pulled off the better prank last summer.
ron was halfway through a bag of crisps, barely listening.
you were seated on the edge of the porch steps, arms crossed, eyes locked on fred across the yard.
he was pretending not to look at you. you were pretending not to care.
ginny narrowed her eyes, watching the silent war unfold.
"okay," she suddenly said, loud enough to cut through the noise.
"can we all agree something’s going on with those two?"
george looked up. "you mean the glaring?"
lee grinned. "or the tension so thick I could cut it with a wand?"
ron blinked. "wait, are they fighting again?"
ginny rolled her eyes. "obviously, ron. that's all they do. but its.. different."
"don't know what you're on about"
you dismissed, suddenly very interested in protecting your eyes from the harsh glow of the sun that has been splaying rays across the grass since earlier
george leaned back, smirking. "they’re either gonna kill each other or kiss."
you didn’t hesitate. "kill."
fred didn’t hesitate either. "kiss."
the yard froze.
ginny blinked. "wait, what?"
fred coughed, waving a hand. ""kill. i said kill."
lee raised an eyebrow. "pretty sure you said kiss."
fred shrugged, grabbing a biscuit from the table. "you heard wrong."
you didn’t look at him.
he didn’t look at you.
but you both felt it.
the slip. the truth. the heat.
later that night, you found him by the garden wall.
the burrow was glowing behind you, windows casting multicolored shreds of light from the stained glass.
the air was cool, quiet. the tension simmered out.
fred leaned against the bricks, arms crossed, eyes softer now.
"you didn’t correct me," he said, a dangerous smirk on his face
you stepped closer, voice low. "you didn’t mean to say it."
he looked at you. really looked at you. like he was admiring your every feature.
"I did."
you swallowed, heart thudding. "then why lie?"
he shrugged, a little helpless.
"because if they knew, it wouldn’t be ours anymore."
you didn’t answer.
you just reached for him.
and this time, it wasn’t teeth. it wasn’t fury.
it was slow. it was quiet. it was soft.
his hands found your waist. yours found his shirt.
and when he kissed you, it felt like breathing again.
"i hate you," you whispered against his mouth, yet it sounded like a confession.
it was another night where you twisted and turned in bed and couldn't sleep.
you sighed, sitting up and gazing at ginny's sleeping frame
you contemplated for a moment, too bright for sleep yet too still for motion.
you huffed, forcing yourself up an letting your feet grace the cold floor seeing as you were too wired to slip into a slumber.
you carefully stepped over the creaky floorboards that you memorized from all the nights you've snuck awake, careful as to not awaken your bestfriend. because last time that happened, you got a pillow to the head.
the door creaked open, and your breath hitched when ginny stirred, halting all your movements till you heard the echo of her snores again.
you slid out the room and carefully pushed it shut with controlled movement, finally breathing as you made your way downstairs to the kitchen
of course, somehow, you find him there again. but this time instead of a look of irritation crossing your expression, a soft smile crept its way onto your face.
fred looked up, and immediately smirked. same smirk that still danced on the edge of your sanity, only for a different reason now.
he was perched on the counter, legs swinging, hair a mess, yet somehow still charming.
"knew you'd come"
he teased, his tone wrapped in a softness which was a stark difference from the spite laced tone he used to take over before.
you playfully rolled your eyes, arthur's old muggle radio was seated on the windowsill playing something warm that made the air feel like velvet.
"stalker."
he hops down, wanders over, and bumps your hip with his.
"insomniac"
you grabbed a glass from the shelf, filled it at the sink, and leaned against the counter beside him.
you sat in a comfortable silence, till the octave of elvis presley's voice drifted through your eardrums singing can't help falling in love/
you absent mindedly hummed along to the song, and fred listened to you with a dazed look on his expression like your voice was the only sound he wanted to ever bless his hearing.
he set his mug down, turning on his heel and catching your waist into his hands
you shook your head "no."
he held up a hand "yes."
you snort "we'll wake the entire burrow"
a lazy grin slipped onto his expression "come on. no one's watching."
you hesitated, then set your glass down and let him pull you to the middle of the kitchen.
it wasn't graceful, your socks slide. his foot knocked into a chair. you nearly trip over your own feet.
he caught you with a laugh that he tried to swallow, and you both ended up giggling into each other’s shoulders with stupid grins like you used to do when you were children.
shall i stay
would it be a sin?
"you always come downstairs when you can't sleep"
he whispered, smile still plastered on his face like he couldn't get rid of it even if he tried
you smiled "so do you"
if i can't help
falling in love with you
his hands stayed at your waist, thumbs brushing slow circles through the fabric of your shirt.
you didn’t know if he realized he was doing it. you didn’t know if you wanted him to stop.
the song curled around you like a blanket, soft and golden and too honest.
like a river flows,
surely to the sea,
darling so it goes,
some things are meant to be
you swayed together, clumsy and quiet, your socks slipping on the floor every few steps.
his foot knocked into the leg of the table again, and you both stifled laughter behind bitten lips.
"we’re going to wake someone." you whispered behind your grin
he leaned in, forehead nearly touching yours. "then we’ll blame the radio."
you giggled, and he smiled like it was his favorite sound.
the fridge hummed. the clock ticked. the house stayed asleep.
not the usual kind of quiet, the muffled chaos of weasleys in other rooms, the distant clatter of pans in the kitchen.
no.
this was real quiet.
everyone was out. errands, garden work, somewhere else.
you and fred claimed the living room hours ago.
you were curled up on the couch, legs tucked under you, the blanket wrapped around your shoulders even though it wasn’t cold.
fred was sprawled beside you, head tilted back, one foot resting on the coffee table, holding a book upside down.
you squinted. "you're not even trying."
he peeked at you over the edge of the pages. "i'm absorbing it through osmosis."
you snorted. "you’re absorbing dust."
he grinned, tossed the book aside, and dropped down until his head landed in your lap.
you blinked. "excuse me?"
he closed his eyes dramatically. "i'm tired. you're soft. it's a perfect arrangement."
you rolled your eyes, but your fingers found his hair anyway, brushing through the strands like it was second nature.
he hummed. "see? you pretend you don't like me, but your hands say otherwise."
you tugged gently. "my hands are traitors."
he cracked one eye open, smile lazy. "they’re loyal to comfort."
you didn’t answer, but there was a soft grin on your expression.
you just kept combing through his hair, slow and absent, while the sunlight shifted across the floor and the clock ticked like it was trying not to interrupt.
"you smell like vanilla." he murmured sleepily
you blinked. "that's oddly specific."
he shrugged. "you always do. It’s nice."
you felt your cheeks warm, but didn’t move.
his eyes fluttered shut again, and for a while, neither of you spoke. yhe silence wasn’t heavy. it was soft. like a blanket. like a secret.
you traced a lazy circle behind his ear, watching the way his lashes fluttered. he didn’t speak, but his smile deepened, slow and sleepy.
then he whispered, "you're my favorite part of this house."
you froze.
he didn’t open his eyes. didn’t move. just let the words hang there, quiet and golden.
"you're mine too" you whispered back
he smiled, like he’d known you'd say it. like he’d been waiting.
you stayed like that, his head in your lap, your fingers in his hair, the world outside forgotten.
the blanket slipped off your shoulder, and he tugged it over both of you without opening his eyes.
his hand found your knee, rested there, warm and steady.
you leaned back into the cushions, letting your head tip against the armrest, letting the moment stretch.
the clock ticked. the sun dipped lower. the room glowed.
he shifted, just enough to press his cheek against your thigh. "if i fall asleep like this, don't wake me."
you smiled. "i wasn’t planning to."
he sighed, content and quiet, and you felt it in your bones. the kind of peace that only came when everything was exactly where it was supposed to be.
and yet.. there was still an uneasy feeling that settled in your chest.
Synopsis-if Fred Weasley knew anything, he knew he hated you more than anything. Or did he?
Fred Weasley prided himself on knowing himself better than anyone else ever could.
He knew the precise swirl of honey that turned his tea from decent to perfect.
He knew exactly how far to push a joke, how much teasing someone needed, and the split second before it became too much.
He knew when to walk away, when to unclench his jaw and breathe before trouble could tempt him into something stupid.
Fred was a blur of confidence, instinct, and quiet, loud knowing.
And he also knew, without a shred of doubt, that you were the most infuriating, impossible, maddening creature ever to walk the earth.
You had blown into his life like an over-zealous firework, bright, chaotic, impossible to ignore, making yourself at home as Ginny Weasley’s very best friend before anyone could blink.
A mess of frizz, freckles, crooked glasses, and twelve-year-old spunk, you’d marched into the Burrow with the confidence of someone twice your size and absolutely none of the caution. You talked too loud, laughed too hard, were way too smart, and somehow managed to get under Fred’s skin within minutes.
He’d never admit it aloud, of course. But from the moment you arrived, nothing in his world was quite as simple, or as predictable, as it had been the day before.
He didn’t understand it at first. You were older than Ginny, a whole year apart. If anything, Ron should’ve ended up your closest confidant, the one you trailed after through the Burrow and the Hogwarts halls.
But maybe that was the point.
You never did the expected.
He found himself growing strangely indifferent to the things that once bothered him, only to realize that indifference didn’t extend to you. Not even close.
And you? You found Fred Weasley utterly captivating.
Oh, and profoundly confusing.
Your very presence seemed to uproot his easy, carefree nature, tugging threads loose he didn’t even know were there. Yet despite how flustered you made him, Fred was also the first to defend your honor the moment anything, or anyone, so much as looked at you wrong.
“Danger,” in this case, being the Slytherins in your year and his, who had apparently made it their life’s mission to ruin your day at every given opportunity. Ironically, or maybe not, you were the one they targeted most, and Fred was the one who got there fastest when they tried.
Which was confusing for both of you.
Just… in very different ways.
You bickered like enemies, teased like rivals, and yet somehow you’d made it your unspoken mission to orbit Fred Weasley at all times. It wasn’t intentional, not really. It just happened. You gravitated toward him the way sparks leap toward flame.
And you knew yourself pretty well, too.
You knew you hated your hair, so every morning you dragged a brush through it with determined ferocity and yanked it into a ponytail that made it just as bushy as Hermione’s.
You knew you were probably too intelligent for your age, something that made adults raise eyebrows and students roll their eyes.
You knew you never recognized the moment to walk away, even though confrontation curled uneasily in your stomach.
And you knew, with painful certainty, that you got under Fred Weasley’s skin like some incurable, festering disease.
What you didn’t know, what you couldn’t even imagine, was how much he truly hated you. you're wrong
You found out that fact the day before Hogwarts let out for summer.
You’d been following Fred around, as you always did. Not in the starry-eyed, crush-confession sort of way. More in the this person feels safe and familiar and less lonely to stand beside sort of way.
You were chattering animatedly about Exploding Snap, about the mechanics behind the cards, whether there was a predictable pattern to the blasts, whether the explosions were magically randomized or if there was some brilliant enchantment you could learn from.
And Fred?
Fred was growing ever more annoyed.
You didn’t notice at first, surprisingly because you always did. You were too busy rambling and gesturing and practically walking backwards to keep your face toward him. But he felt it. That itch under his skin. That restless energy that always came with you. Like static. Like being wound too tight. Like feeling watched and seen and affected.
He couldn’t explain it, so in his head, it became something simple:
You were irritating. End of story.
And when an older Hufflepuff girl walked into view, golden hair cascading down her back, eyes as blue as a crystal lake, skin glowing like bottled sunlight, what little attention Fred had managed to keep on you vanished instantly.
Not because he liked her.
But because he felt like he should.
She looked like the type of girl he was supposed to go crazy for. Elegant. Effortlessly pretty. The kind of girl who would laugh softly instead of snort, who wouldn’t ask endless questions about card enchantments or talk with her hands or trip over nothing.
So he convinced himself he did like her.
Or that he needed to.
And when you, utterly unaware, ruined his manufactured chance of getting her attention by tripping over your own feet and sending him crashing into you in a tangle of limbs.
He exploded.
Every single thing you hated about yourself came spewing out of his mouth, sharp and fast and unfiltered.
Your hair, a frizzy, bushy mess.
Your glasses, dorky.
Your voice, infuriating.
You, annoying. Exhausting. Too much.
You had heard it all before, whispered by other students, muttered by passing Slytherins, even joked about by people who didn’t mean to wound you.
But hearing it from Fred? From him?
That was your breaking point.
You felt the tears pooling, hot and humiliating, but instead of fighting back, yelling, shoving him, or even slapping him like your gut urged, you simply turned on your heel and walked away.
No words.
No comeback.
Just… gone.
And that was the first summer, since you were twelve years old, that you didn’t stay at the Burrow.
Instead, for the first time, you went with your parents to Greece. Sunlit ruins, bright oceans, warm nights, none of it felt quite real, because the truth was you weren’t running to anything. You were running from something. From someone.
Ginny was devastated but tried to understand, sending you long letters filled with doodles of the two of you and apologies she didn’t owe.
Molly was even more upset; she’d always treated you like one of her own, and the space you left behind at the breakfast table made her sigh more than once.
And the rest of the Weasleys? They felt it too. The house was quieter. Less alive. Even Harry and Hermione noticed your absence like a missing wall, structurally important in ways no one realized until it was gone.
And it was all Fred’s fault.
Every bit of it.
But no one knew.
Not a single soul understood what actually happened, why you hadn’t come, why you went silent, why you avoided the one place you’d once called your second home.
Except Fred.
Fred knew exactly why.
And it haunted him every single day of that summer, so much so that even working on pranks, sketches, and prototypes for his dream joke shop became impossible.
Because even though he told himself you were a complete menace, a walking catastrophe made of frizz and questions and noise… deep down he cared.
More than he wanted to. More than he’d ever admit.
So he spent the whole summer trying to craft an apology.
Not one meant to make you cordial, no he didn’t like you enough for that. Just one that might make it possible for you to stand near him again without shrinking or flinching.
For Ginny, he kept telling himself. For her sake. For the family. For peace.
He chanted it like a prayer every time he got too deep, every time guilt curled tight in his chest and made him imagine your face when he’d yelled at you.
Every time he wondered if he’d ruined something far more important than he understood.
But the truth, that he hadn’t accepted yet, was that the apology wasn’t really for Ginny at all.
It was for you.
And it terrified him.
George could tell something was up.
The drastic change in his twin’s behavior set off every red flag he had, because Fred didn’t mope. He didn’t go quiet. He didn’t sit around staring at unfinished prank ideas like they were written in a foreign language. And the drastic change in your behavior, the absence of your letters, the silence where your chaos used to be… that set off just as many alarms.
George had always liked you.
He’d considered you another little sister, one who was sharp and earnest and unintentionally funny. The kind who dropped facts no one asked for and cared harder than most people your age were brave enough to.
And he’d always found it endlessly amusing how blind Fred was.
How he never saw the way you gravitated toward him.
How he never noticed the way his voice softened around you compared to everyone else.
How he never realized that his irritation was really something else entirely.
George wasn’t oblivious.
He’d spent years watching the two of you orbit each other like mismatched planets.
So when everything fell apart, George was the first to put the pieces together.
The first, and, frankly, the only one stubborn enough, to force the truth out of Fred.
It took hours.
Prying. Poking. Prodding.
Threatening to tell Mum he’d been testing fireworks in the house again.
And when Fred finally cracked, when he admitted what he’d said, what he’d done, and who he’d done it to—
George whacked him in the head without hesitation.
“You’re a right bloody idiotic twat, you know that?” he snapped, rubbing the spot on his palm like the force of the hit offended him.
Fred didn’t even argue.
Didn’t shove him back.
Just sat there, shoulders hunched, looking smaller than George had ever seen him.
Which only made George more frustrated.
Because out of all the stupid things Fred Weasley had ever done, and there were many, hurting you was the one he’d never expected.
The one that actually mattered.
He had all but forced Fred to send a Howler to apologize, gone so far as to draft one himself, complete with dramatic pauses and a threatening, “YOU UTTER DUMBAR—” before Fred snatched it away in horror.
But in the end, George settled for waiting until school.
“You’re doing this face-to-face,” he’d insisted.
No shortcuts.
No hiding behind ink or parchment.
Which was, unfortunately, today.
The first day back. The first time you’d all be in the same place, the same corridor, the same castle since that awful moment.
Fred had barely slept. George had barely let him forget.
And somewhere beyond the crowd of students spilling into the Great Hall, you were here.
Older. Hurt. Avoidant.
And completely unaware that Fred Weasley’s entire year hinged on whether he could get one single apology out of his mouth without making everything worse.
He was on edge the entire feast, barely eating, leg bouncing so ferociously it shook the whole table. Every time someone asked him a question, he jumped, words stumbling out in a tangle.
Ginny, on the other hand, was frantic too, but with excitement, a bright, hopeful energy that was the exact opposite of her brother’s taut, anxious mood. Both reactions caused by the same person.
And yet, you didn’t show.
Not one glimpse of you along the Gryffindor table, no matter how hard he scanned the crowd. Not in the doorway. Not even in the corner where first-years usually clustered, wondering if they were safe.
He tried to pretend he didn’t care.
After all, it was just you, annoying, short, messy, infuriating you.
So he shoved down the pit twisting in his stomach, ignored the twin-sized knowing eyes glaring at him from across the table, and forced himself to stand.
He walked back to the common room with a sulk so obvious it practically announced itself to anyone watching
except, of course, Fred.
To him, it was just a casual stroll.
A perfectly normal, totally composed stroll.
The kind of stroll a boy who’d barely slept in days might manage, if he squinted really hard and ignored the rest of the world.
He didn’t hear the Lee-sounding whisper from George behind him.
“What’s his problem?”
Nor did he catch Ginny’s mutters, anxious and barely restrained:
“Where is she?”
Fred simply plopped onto a couch in front of the fire, letting himself sink into the cushions, arms crossed, jaw tight.
He sulked, In full view of the warm, crackling flames and the cozy chatter of the common room around him, he sulked like it was an art form.
And he wouldn’t admit, not even to himself, that every flicker of the fire seemed to remind him of you.
He didn’t notice the excited scream of his younger sister who had disappeared, nor the quiet laughs from Hermione, nor the wolf-whistles from Angelina and Alicia.
He didn’t notice the portrait swing open, or the five bodies that filed in behind it.
He did notice, though, when an all-too-familiar laugh cut through the chatter of the common room.
His head shot up so fast it practically knocked his hair back.
There she i—
What the—what?! Bloody hell?!
You were you, but you weren’t.
Your usually bushy, brushed-out ponytail was down and just as wild as ever, but the strands had a new life, twisting and curling in ways he’d never thought possible, like a river in motion. Your glasses were tucked neatly into your blouse, no longer hiding those meadow-green eyes, which seemed to sparkle in the firelight. Your lips had a subtle cherry gloss, your freckles scattered like constellations, and somehow, you were almost glowing.
Still a firework, still impossibly chaotic, but different. You’d grown a few inches, your body filled out in ways he hadn’t imagined.
And yet none of that mattered.
Fred’s eyes locked on your face.
Your laugh. Your smile. The tilt of your head.
His brain had completely short-circuited.
Your voice broke him out of it.
“Hey guys.”
Fred blinked, utterly shocked. Your voice, usually like nails on a chalkboard to him, now sounded like… birds chirping? No. A summer breeze? No. Wait… a game of Exploding Snap! That’s it. That was perfect.
Lee whistled appreciatively. George stood up, arms wide, ready to sweep you into a hug.
“Little Sparky’s all grown up, aren’t you?” George teased, grinning.
“Oh, sod off,” you laughed, the sound ringing like music through the common room.
“No, he’s right, sweetheart,” Lee said, standing and pulling you close to his side. “You look magnificent.”
Angelina swooped in, gently pulling you away. “Doesn’t she? And in just two months too!”
Alisha followed. “I, for one, am completely jealous. Now, what is that lip gloss?”
“No, really,” Hermione chimed in, stepping closer. “And what are you using on your hair?”
Ginny slid in, grabbing your shoulders. “Now everyone, she’s my best friend who I haven’t seen in months! She’s mine to bombard with questions.”
Fred froze. Confused.
Every single year since you had burst into Hogwarts, he had always been the first one you greeted.
You’d run in, breathless, a “Hi, Freddy!” ready on your lips. And he, without fail, would grumble back a distracted “Hey” while rolling his eyes
But now, everyone was talking to you first. And he wasn’t first anymore.
He should’ve been happy, he knew exactly why he wasn’t first. And yet the pit in his stomach only grew, twisting tighter with every laugh, every question aimed at you, every sparkle in your eyes. And the reason it hurt so much, was you.
He finally forced himself to his feet, legs like jelly beneath him, and started walking toward the group. Hoping, praying, that if you saw him, you would at least acknowledge him.
He was wrong.
You barely even glanced up.
And when Ginny pulled you away toward the girls’ dorm with a proclamation of much-needed girl time, Fred’s heart sank further.
He realized something that made his chest tighten: you hadn’t acknowledged him at all.
You had actually pretended that Fred Weasley didn’t even exist.
He ended the night hearing so many, “You deserve it,” from his brother and Lee, who had now been fully filled in.
It wasn’t immediate how people noticed how different you were.
The first things were obvious, everyone staring at how much you had outwardly changed, the way your presence drew attention from boys and girls alike. Whispers, double-takes, quiet gasps, it was impossible to ignore.
But it was the small things that were different, the things that took a second to register.
You didn’t chime in anymore. Your usual never-ending stream of random facts had vanished. You didn’t gesture with your hands while talking. Your laugh was softer, quieter, more controlled. You no longer drew attention like a firework, exploding with energy and chaos.
Instead, you drew it in a different way. A quiet confidence that seemed to radiate from you naturally, subtle but impossible to miss. Your cherry lip gloss caught the light just right, your every movement deliberate yet effortless.
Everything that had made you, well, you, seemed to have had the dial turned down to zero.
The fire, the chaos, the relentless energy and noise that had once announced your arrival like a cannon blast were all gone.
And it was all Fred’s fault.
Every quiet smile, every softened laugh, every flicker of restraint that had replaced your usual chaos, he had caused.
He didn’t realize how much he missed you until barely a day into classes. A crazy long time, clearly.
He was leaving Transfiguration, a class you always met him after, and you weren’t there.
He wasn’t surprised, not really. But somehow, in a way he couldn’t quite explain, he still was.
He saw you two minutes later, drifting past like you hadn’t even noticed he was there. Your steps were steady, too steady, your chin lifted higher than he’d ever seen it. You held your book pressed to your chest like a shield, and your hair was pinned up in a way he’d never seen before, soft curly tendrils escaping to frame your face.
You looked ethereal.
And it wrecked him.
He’d always thought you were beautiful, beautiful in the way sunlight felt on closed eyes, in the way a favorite song lingered long after it ended. It wasn’t something he could ever explain, not even to himself.
That feeling hadn’t changed.
If anything, it had deepened. Your beauty had grown in quiet, impossible ways, settling over you like something he was never meant to touch.
And watching you walk past without looking at him, without laughing or bumping his shoulder or tugging at his sleeve, cause an ache to bloom in his chest, sharp and helpless.
And later, when you sat beside Ginny at dinner, almost directly in front of him, it took everything in him not to stare.
He failed, of course.
It took several sharp elbows from George every couple of minutes just to keep him even remotely present. Each jab pulled him back for a second, only for his gaze to drift toward you again, as if pulled by instinct alone.
And he’d started to notice something else, something that made his chest tighten even further.
Even the way you acted with Ginny had changed.
You laughed, but softer. You smiled, but smaller. You held yourself like someone trying not to take up too much space, like someone constantly checking the temperature of the room before speaking. Almost like something was holding you back.
Almost like you were afraid of her turning her back on you, too.
The realization hit him with a hollow, aching kind of guilt, because he knew that fear.
He knew exactly what it could do to you.
And watching you shrink yourself for someone else made him want to reach across the table, gather you close, and tell you that you didn’t need to be afraid.
But he didn’t.
He just sat there, elbows digging into his ribs, eyes lingering on you with a longing he couldn’t hide, wishing he hadn’t been the first person to make you feel that way.
Overall, Fred Weasley was completely and utterly confused.
He’d hated you for as long as he’d known you, at least, that’s what he told himself. That’s what he’d always told everyone.
So why, Merlin, why did he care so much?
Why did it bother him to see you quieter, smaller, pulling yourself inward?
Why did his chest tighten every time you didn’t look his way?
Why did he feel like he was losing something he’d never actually had?
He dragged in a breath, frustration and yearning tangling together in a way that made his stomach twist.
Maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t hated you all along.
Maybe the truth had been sitting under his skin for years, unnoticed and unspoken.
And maybe that truth was what hurt the most.
You hadn’t really noticed how much you had changed until you got back to hogwarts.
Of course you knew you looked different. You had spent half the summer testing creams and mousses and gels and oils from Martha Spellbottom’s Mystical Curly Hair Care until you found the exact combination that made your curls fall the way you wanted. You’d bought so many products the shopkeeper had started greeting you by name.
You’d stopped wearing your glasses as much too, surprised to realize how much your eyesight had improved.
And then there was the small mountain of makeup you collected from Elise Elderberry’s Beautifying Botanicals. After countless trials, you found the two things that felt like you: a simple black mascara that made your lashes look fluttery instead of clumpy, and a cherry lip gloss that tasted faintly sweet every time you caught it on your tongue.
Those were the changes you chose.
Then there were the ones you couldn’t control.
Your acne had mostly calmed down over the years, leaving only the usual hormonal flare-ups. You’d grown a couple of inches. You’d finally gotten boobs, not enough to make a fuss, but enough for you to notice. And your waist had those two little dips now, soft curves you traced in the mirror with a mix of confusion and curiosity.
But the biggest change wasn’t your face or your body.
It was you.
Somewhere over the months, your loudness had quieted. Your quick-fire jokes stuck in your throat more than they used to. Your instinct to jump into a conversation was replaced with a second of hesitation, ust long enough for someone else to get there first.
You stood straighter, but you spoke softer.
You still laughed, just not as freely.
You still smiled, just not as wide.
You didn’t change yourself for Fred Weasley.
You changed yourself so no one could ever make you feel like he did again.
Not small.
Not stupid.
Not like wanting to be seen was some kind of weakness.
You didn’t change to impress him.
You changed to protect yourself from him, and from anyone else who might ever hold that kind of power over you again.
Still, you hadn’t truly noticed how much until the first day back at school.
You’d missed the feast, arriving late by Floo, thanks to your parents, who still didn’t quite understand wizarding ways.
And it was the stares that hit you first.
At first, you thought maybe there was soot on your face, or ash caught in your hair. Perhaps something had smudged on your robes. Anything to explain the way people’s eyes lingered a little too long, the quiet pauses in conversations as you passed.
But it wasn’t dirt, or hair, or clothing.
It was you.
You were the thing that drew the attention, the thing that had changed in ways you hadn’t realized, ways that even you were only just beginning to notice.
And when Ginny’s excited scream broke your train of thought, you didn’t barrel toward her and scream back. You simply let out a happy laugh and opened your arms.
When Angeline and Alisha let out loud wolf-whistles, you didn’t flush or yell at them to shush. You just smiled appreciatively, laughed like you didn’t quite believe them, and let the sound linger.
And when Hermione laughed in shock and said, “You’ve always been wonderful, but bloody hell,” you didn’t grab her or jump up and down. You just tilted your head, eyes bright, and said, “Oh, but look at you,”
And when you walked through the portrait hole, after rolling your eyes at the Fat Lady excitedly yelling about you finally taking her advice, the sight of Fred Weasley didn’t make you stop. It didn’t pull you toward him.
You simply acted like he wasn’t there.
You didn’t feel his stare when George hugged you, and you didn’t notice the twitch of his eye when Lee called you “sweetheart.” Two things you would have normally made a show of, because it was George and Lee, but didn’t.
And when he finally walked up to the group, you just tugged Ginny’s sleeve and whispered, “Girl time,” your smile bright, your voice light, as if the world, and Fred Weasley himself, could wait
You didn't feel his eyes on you as you walked away, and that was maybe the one thing that hadn’t changed.
Ginny had noticed something was up within fifteen minutes.
You were too different.
And she knew you too well.
She watched the way you moved through the common room, careful and measured, not your usual whirlwind self. She noticed the softening of your laughter, the way your eyes lingered on things instead of darting to catch every glance.
Guilt twisted in your chest, not just for not telling her the truth about why you hadn’t come to the Burrow, but because, for the first time in your life, you didn’t want to tell her something.
So you deflected. You laughed it off and told her you were simply growing up.
Ginny’s gaze softened, and she nudged your shoulder. “Grown up or not, don’t think I won’t notice when someone’s making you hold back. You’ve always been too fiery to hide completely.”
You mulled over her words for weeks.
You had been fiery, loud, impossible to ignore, a bundle of spark and brilliance and chaos. And because of something one boy had said, you had let it all slip away, tamed yourself.
But this wasn’t just one boy.
This was Fred.
Irritating. Confusing. Infuriating. Caring in a way that made your chest ache when you least expected it.
You tried not to think about it too much. You really did.
But that was growing harder by the day, because, for the love of Merlin, the kid would not stop staring at you.
Like, Godric, for someone who supposedly hated you, he spent an absurd amount of time with his eyes on you.
And that would have been fine.. if he didn’t try to talk to you.
But of course, he did.
Of course.
Fred had finally built up the courage to approach you.
Well… technically, it only happened after George had actually hexed off his eyebrows instead of just threatening to.
And so, with half a face missing its usual expression, Fred Weasley shuffled toward you, trying to look composed, which, let’s be honest, was utterly hopeless.
You were walking down the hallway when you looked up and saw him, Fred… missing his eyebrows?
That wasn’t even the part that shocked you the most.
No, the real shock came when he opened his mouth.
Something about the way he blinked, half-lost without his eyebrows, and tried to form words made your brain short-circuit.
So, naturally, you did the only thing that felt remotely safe. You turned on your heel and booked it back down the hallway, ignoring the giggles of passing students and the faint, frustrated “Oi!” that echoed after you.
The second time he tried, you were sitting under a tree by the lake, sketching, completely lost in the lines of your drawing.
Suddenly, the far tree you’d been focused on was blocked. And there he was walking straight toward you.
Obviously, you did what any rational person would do. You abandoned your sketchbook, your pencils, everything, and ducked behind a nearby shed, pressing yourself against the cool wood as if it could actually hide you from Fred Weasley.
From the corner of your eye, you could see him pause, look around, and blink in confusion. You stifled a laugh.
The third time, you were sitting on a bench in the courtyard, completely absorbed in your book, looking utterly serene, when two large loafers shuffled into view.
You didn’t even need to look up to know who they belonged to. Your chest tightened in that familiar, infuriating way.
So, of course, being the brilliant witch you were, you jumped up and yelled, “I need help, Neville!” and sprinted toward him, sending heads turning in every direction.
Fred’s eyes went wide, half confusion, half disbelief, as he watched you bolt. George, predictably, burst into laughter behind him.
By the eighth time, you were running out of places to avoid him. The library’s corner that used to feel like your sanctuary suddenly seemed too small. Even the benches by the greenhouses no longer felt safe. Every time you thought you were hidden, those unmistakable loafers appeared somewhere in your peripheral vision.
By the twelfth, you were running out of creative places to hide. Behind statues, under tables, ducking behind suits of armor, you’d even briefly considered hiding in a suit of robes in the lost-and-found, but that had seemed like overkill.
By the fifteenth, you were struggling to come up with believable excuses.“Oh, I, uh… need to, um, water the plants!” “I have… a sudden urge to polish my wand!” Every word tasted bitter in your mouth, because what you really wanted to say was nothing at all. You wanted to disappear, but more than that, you wanted him not to see you. Not to see that you were still fragile around him.
By the eighteenth, you were getting genuinely annoyed. He wasn’t even subtle anymore. He would lean casually on doorframes, linger in the hallways, and sometimes just stand there, smirking in that way that made your chest tighten and your blood run hot with irritation and something else you weren’t ready to name.
By the twentieth, confusion set in. Why was he doing this? You had believed for months that he hated you, that you had done something wrong, that he had made sure you felt it. And yet, there he was, persistent and infuriating, and you weren’t sure if he was mocking you, testing you, or… something worse.
By the twenty-sixth, you were exhausted. Your arms ached from constantly carrying your books ready to flee. Your legs hurt from sprinting across courtyards and through hallways. Your heart beat a little too fast every time you thought you saw him, even if it was just a shadow, and you weren’t sure whether you were angry or… intrigued.
And then, the thirty-fifth time… he finally caught you.
Curled up on the couch in the common room, flipping through a deck of Exploding Snap cards, ironically the very thing that had started this whole mess, you were utterly unprepared. Focused on the flick of the cards, the sharp snap of each one, you barely registered the world around you.
Tired. Mentally, physically, and somehow emotionally. Every encounter with him had left a trace, a little ache you hadn’t been ready to name.
And then you felt it: the shift in the air, the faintest shadow across your peripheral vision.
Fred.
He was there, standing just a few feet away, and your chest tightened. Your hands froze mid-flick, the cards trembling slightly. You hadn’t been expecting him. You hadn’t been ready for him.
And you had nowhere left to hide.
He was blocking the stairwell to your dorm, leaning casually against the railing like he owned the space, which, in a way, he seemed determined to. The common room suddenly felt smaller, every couch and table too exposed.
It was too late to leave, though you hadn’t completely ruled out that option. A quick dash across the room and a dive behind some furniture could still work… maybe.
The common room was quiet for a long moment. It felt like hours.
“Finally done running from me?” His voice was smooth, but there was a subtle tremor underneath, fear, guilt, hurt. You almost choked on it. Hurt? He’d have some nerve to be hurt.
“Surprised that I was?” The words left your mouth before you could stop them. Harsh. Sharp. More forceful than you intended. You weren’t a stranger to fights, to snapping back, but this… this was different.
Because part of you wanted to storm off, wanted to hurl a spell or a sarcastic remark, wanted to keep the wall between you both intact.
And another, smaller part, annoying, infuriating, unwilling to admit itself, was waiting, curious to see if he really meant what you thought you heard in that slight tremor of his voice.
He looked taken aback for a second, before recovering, or at least trying to.
“No…” His voice wavered, betraying him this time. “No, I know I deserve it.”
“Great.” You stood up stiffly, crossing your arms like armor. “Then looks like we have nothing to talk about.”
You started to walk toward the stairs, toward him, when he held his hands out. “Wait, Sparky, plea—”
You looked up sharply, cutting him off. “Don’t. Don’t call me that.”
His hands froze midair. For a moment, the air between you felt taut, fragile, like a wire stretched too tight.
“Okay…” He held his hands up in surrender, eyes soft but desperate. “Just… please. Please hear me out.”
“Why should I?” you asked, your voice sharp, defensive, even though your stomach twisted and your throat felt tight.
“You shouldn’t,” he admitted, his voice low, almost pained. “But gosh, love… I’ll even get on my knees and beg.”
Your heart jolted. Love? Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms. You would’ve considered laughing, maybe even letting a small, infuriated grin slip, if you weren’t so shocked by what he had just called you.
“Don’t…” you whispered, your voice faltering, weaker than the first time. “…Don’t, uh… call me that either.”
“Fine.” You turned and walked toward the couch, keeping your spine stiff, your steps deliberate, and your jaw set. “You have five minutes.
Fred was practically beaming on the inside. Five minutes? He knew it was way more than he deserved, and that thought alone made the spark of hope in his chest nearly unbearable.
He was distracted, of course. Distracted by the swish of your low ponytail, by the subtle curve of your shoulders, the soft sway of your hips…
He shook his head, as if trying to physically dislodge the thoughts crowding his brain, and finally walked over to the chair across from you. Every step was deliberate, careful, though his pulse hammered in his ears.
Sitting down, he kept his gaze on you, not only because he wanted to stare, but because he couldn’t look anywhere else. The distance between you felt both impossibly small and terrifyingly vast.
He wanted to speak. He wanted to apologize, explain, fix the mess he’d made. But all he could do was take a deep breath, fight the urge to reach across the space between you, and remind himself that this, this five minutes, was his only chance to get it right.
And he had no idea if it would be enough.
You were sitting stiffly on the couch, arms crossed, spine rigid, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Look, I just… I wanted to explain—” Fred began, hands spread, trying for earnest.
You didn’t even look at him. “Explain what?”
“That—last year. I mean, the way things went down…” His words stumbled, uneven, like he’d rehearsed a hundred times but none of them stuck.
Your eyes reduced to slits. “Go on.”
“I just—like—I wanted to—um…” Fred trailed off, stumbling over his words more and more, desperation creeping into his tone.
You rolled your eyes, the familiar mix of frustration and disbelief washing over you, as you stood up. “Alright. Goodbye, Fred.”
“No! Wait—I’m–!” He practically shouted, his usual grin gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded. “Im sorry!”
You froze. That was, not at all what you expected to hear.
For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you, the tension thick, your heart hammering, and something in his voice that made the ache in your chest twist in an unfamiliar, confusing way.
You looked at him for the second time, nodding slowly. “Okay.”
“Okay?” His brows shot up, confusion written all over his face.
“Okay.” You affirmed, voice flat but steady. “Thank you for apologizing.”
He stammered, words tripping over themselves. “I—that’s it?”
You sharpened, a flicker of impatience in your gaze. “What else did you expect?”
He shrunk a little, shoulders hunching, a sheepish look on his face. “Oh—um—nothing. Just… great. Glad this is… fixed.”
“Yeah, great,” you said, voice dripping with sarcasm, the faintest edge of your old fire sneaking through.
Fred shuffled on his feet, clearly struggling to find the right words. “So—yeah. Cool. So… things are good again? You hate me, I hate you, and… you’ll just be around the family again?”
He immediately regretted it. He hadn’t meant it. He didn’t want that. But his brain had completely betrayed him, and he didn’t know what else to say.
You blinked at him, disbelief and frustration bubbling up like a storm you couldn’t hold back. The words were so casually wrong, so painfully off, that part of you wanted to scream. Part of you wanted to shove him. Part of you wanted to run and never look back.
“Are you serious?” Your tone cut through the room, icy cold and scorching fire all at once.
Fred blinked, caught completely off guard, words dying on his tongue.
“Did you actually think,” you continued, voice rising with each syllable, “that you could mutter one half-arsed apology and it would erase everything? Everything you said, everything you did? Are you really that bloody daft?”
His jaw worked, a flicker of guilt and panic flashing across his face. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly searching for the right words that didn’t exist.
You took a slow step toward him, letting your eyes bore into his, making sure he felt the weight of every word, every accusation, every ounce of the anger and hurt he had caused.
“And don’t think for a second,” you added, voice trembling slightly, “that just because you look sorry, it fixes anything. Because it doesn’t. Not even close.”
The words poured out of you, faster than you could stop them. “I trusted you, Fred! I thought we had an unspoken agreement, that all of the bickering was care disguised! I never thought you actually hated me, and I never actually hated you!”
His mouth opened, closed, opened again, clearly floundering, but you didn’t pause. “You were a safety net for me, Fred! And you—” your voice cracked, anger lacing your words like knives “—you used everything I hated about myself, and even the things I didn’t know were bad, against me! And you think that… that brainless mess of a conversation we just had is just gonna fix things?!”
Fred’s shoulders slumped, guilt washing over him, his usual swagger gone, replaced by something raw, exposed, and painfully real. For the first time, he realized that words alone weren’t enough.
“What, because I’m hot now, you think I lost all my nerve? Godric, you really never knew me at all, you stupid git!” Your voice cracked with fury, sharper than you’d realized, and with every word, you found yourself stepping closer to him, almost without noticing.
“I can’t believe I ever cared about you, you really are a selfish arseho—”
Your words died on your lips as Fred surged forward, hands gripping your cheeks, and smashed his lips against yours.
The world seemed to tilt, the sharp edge of your anger colliding violently with the shock of him kissing you. Your body froze, heart hammering in disbelief, chest tightening, every nerve alight with a confusing mix of fury, betrayal, and something else entirely.
For a heartbeat, you couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe properly. And for a fleeting, maddening second, your body betrayed your brain, you felt yourself kissing back.
It was only when you felt that infuriating, victorious smile pressing against your lips that reality slammed back. With a cry that was part anger, part frustration, you shoved him off with every ounce of strength you had, and the slap that followed rang sharp and loud.
“Don’t you ever—” you gasped, chest heaving, eyes blazing, tears threatening to spill, “…do that to me again!”
Fred staggered back, hand flying to his cheek, shock and guilt written all over his face. His usual cocky grin was gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded that made your chest tighten even more, despite yourself.
For a long moment, neither of you moved. The room seemed impossibly still, heavy with the weight of the anger, the betrayal, and the confusing sparks that neither of you were willing to admit yet.
He took a tentative step forward, and your hands shot out instinctively. “Don’t. Don’t ever come near me again.”
Fred’s eyes, dark with a mix of guilt and something painfully tender, met yours for just a second before you turned sharply, refusing to give him the satisfaction of your gaze. “Just… go away, please.”
You didn’t watch as he slowly walked backward, every step echoing the distance that had grown between you over the years, and then finally out of the room.
When you finally allowed yourself to look up again, Ginny was there, wide-eyed, concern etched across her face. She didn’t say a word, just waited, patient, silent, and steady.
You swallowed, your throat tight, and knew, now, you had to tell her the truth. Not just about the kiss, not just about the argument, but everything. All the anger, the hurt, the humiliation, the way you had spent the last year trying to protect yourself from Fred, and the part of you that still, impossibly, cared.
And when you made it to your bed, you sat down slowly and took a deep breath, finally letting the words begin to spill, because Ginny deserved the truth, and you deserved to stop carrying it alone.
Ginny was unsurprisingly furious at her brother, but more importantly, she focused on comforting you, steadying your shaking hands, and muttering little reassurances that you would always be her very best friend no matter what until, by morning, she seemed completely calm.
Or so you thought.
That is, until you both reached the last step of the girls’ dorm stairwell. Ginny’s expression was too composed, her movements deliberate, almost unnervingly calm. You raised an eyebrow at her, suspicious.
And then she strode over to her all three of her brothers, their friends, and a few random Gryffindors lounging nearby. Without a word, she swung her hand back and landed a slap across Fred’s cheek that almost could have rivaled your own from the night before. Almost
Fred staggered, stunned, hand flying to his face, eyes wide as Ginny glared at him like she could burn holes into his skull.
Still glaring, she turned on her heel, grabbed your hand, and marched the two of you out of the common room, completely ignoring the stifled laughs, whispered “ooos,” and wide-eyed stares from everyone else.
And in turn, you had the best day you’d had in ages.
George had found you first, sidling up with that mischievous grin of his. “Bloody brilliant,” he whispered, giving you a conspiratorial wink. “You really gave him a proper earful. I’ve never been prouder.”
Lee came over next, practically bouncing with excitement. “Honestly, that was genius! You handled him perfectly. I’m in awe. Hearing about it last night made me starstruck.”
And then there was Ginny. You and her spent the rest of the day together, walking through the halls, grabbing snacks from the kitchens, laughing at the smallest things, swapping stories and secrets. The kind of day where time doesn’t exist and your chest feels light, your shoulders loose, your heart a little freer than it had been in months.
You found yourself laughing louder than you used too, smiling brighter than you had allowed yourself, and letting your fire, your real, untamed, brilliant fire, burn as wild as it pleased.
For the first time in a long time, you remembered exactly who you were.
Fred hadn’t tried to talk to you again, not a single word, not a single glance that lingered too long. And no amount of coaxing from George and Ron, pleading from Lee and Angelina, or gentle suggestions from Ginny and Hermione could make you even consider talking to Fred Weasley again.
You had built walls, fortified them with every ounce of fire and pride you owned, and for a while, it worked.
Until number thirty-six crept up on you.
You were sitting in front of the lake, dragging a stick through the water, mesmerized by the moonlight dancing across its surface, when you heard it, the familiar, all-too-recognizable sound of footsteps crunching softly on the grass.
You didn’t look up. Not when he reached you. Not when he settled carefully beside you, letting the space between you speak volumes.
For a long moment, there was only the quiet lapping of water against the shore, the occasional rustle of leaves, and the subtle tension you refused to acknowledge.
Finally, you let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, your hands still tracing patterns in the water. “What now?” you asked, voice even but carrying the weight of every wall you’d built around yourself since last year.
Fred shifted, just slightly, careful not to cross the invisible line you’d drawn. “I… I wanted to try again,” he admitted, voice low, hesitant, betraying the same nervousness you’d seen in him all those times he’d stumbled over words before.
You didn’t move, didn’t look at him, letting your silence do the talking.
He took a deep breath before continuing. “I–I’m so so sorry, love.”
You both flinched at the pet name, but you let it slide.
“You’re right about it all,” he rushed on, words spilling out like they’d been pent up for far too long. “I am a daft, bloody arsehole. I was horrible to you, something you, out of everyone, never, ever deserved. None of the things I said were true. I don’t believe any of it. You… you are, and always have been, utterly perfect and the truth is…” His voice dropped even lower, raw with something you didn’t expect. “…I was scared.”
That made you glance at him, just the tiniest flicker of curiosity breaking through your wall.
“Scared of how I felt about you,” he admitted, eyes locked on the shimmering lake, still refusing to look at you. “Scared of how brilliant you were. Scared I wasn’t good enough. Scared because…” His throat bobbed, breath catching. “…because I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Your breath hitched, quiet, involuntary.
“Because I never hated you,” he continued, voice cracking. “Not at all. I hated myself for not being good enough for you.”
You stared at the side of his face, jaw tight, urging him, silently, stubbornly, to finish, to finally say what he should have a long, long time ago.
“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he said, shoulders slumping. “I don’t deserve any of you. But I am begging you, for just one chance. One chance to be the man you deserve. To show you that nothing I said was ever true, not for a moment.”
At that, he finally turned.
Hazel met hazel, unfiltered, desperate, pleading.
The world went quiet. Only the gentle lap of water against the lakeshore broke the stillness.
It took every ounce of strength you had not to look away.
“You don’t deserve forgiveness.”
Your voice was soft, but it hit harder than a shout.
He flinched.
“You really, really hurt me,” you continued, slow and steady. “And the timing of me suddenly getting pretty and you suddenly wanting a chance? It matches up a little too well.”
His eyes widened, panicked. “You’ve always been magnificent,” he muttered, almost too low to hear, looking, honestly, like a kicked puppy waiting to be shoved away.
You fought a smile. Just barely.
“You,” you said, leaning forward slightly, eyes sharp, “are going to have to work at this every day. For the rest of time. You hear me?”
He straightened so fast he almost toppled into the lake.
“Yes—yes, of course, anything—everything,” he blurted, nodding so hard his hair flopped.
“And I mean every single day,” you warned. “I still don’t totally forgive you, but—”
He cut you off immediately, voice bursting with desperate hope. “But you’re giving me a chance.”
Your glare snapped back to life. “Fred.”
His mouth snapped shut so quickly it was almost comical.
You rolled your eyes, the sarcasm familiar, warm in a way that startled you. And before you could stop it, a smile tugged at your mouth.
A real one.
Your first real smile because of him in what felt like ages.
Fred’s breath caught. You didn’t notice, but he did.
“No more cutting me off,” you said, leveling a finger at him.
He raised both hands in surrender, eyes wide, nodding obediently.
“But yes, Fred Weasley,” you continued, voice softening despite yourself, “I’m giving you a chance.”
His face lit up, slowly at first, like he didn’t trust it, then bright and boyish and unbelievably relieved.
You stood, brushing dirt off your skirt, looking down at him with mock sternness.
“Don’t mess it up again.”
He scrambled to his feet so quickly he nearly tripped over a root. “I won’t—I swear I won’t—I’d rather let George hex off my eyebrows again than mess this up.”
You snorted. “Honestly? You might need them hexed again for good luck.”
He grinned, wide, lopsided, hopeful.
And for the first time since last year, it didn’t hurt to look at him.
When he took a cautious step closer, you didn’t stop him.
When his hand hovered, hesitant, against your cheek, you let it rest there.
And when he asked, voice soft and nervous, “If I kiss you, are you gonna slap me again?”
You smirked, tilting your head slightly. “Maybe.”
He let out a breathless laugh and whispered, “Worth it.”
This time you surged forward, determination and pent-up frustration propelling you, you grabbed his cheeks, pulling him down without a second thought, and slammed your lips against his.
He froze for half a second, just long enough for you to feel the shock ripple through him, before he melted into the kiss like he’d been waiting his entire life for you to do exactly that.
His hands flew to your waist, gentle but desperate, holding you as if you might vanish if he didn’t anchor you down. As he tilted you back slightly, instinctively, you arched into him, a sharp gasp catching between your lips. His hands curled around your back, steadying you, pulling you impossibly closer.
The faint sweetness of cherry, your lip gloss, clouded his senses, making it impossible to think clearly.
Your fingers dug into his cheeks, tugging him closer, and he responded in kind, pressing harder, kissing you with a reckless intensity. Months of anger, frustration, and longing, the running, the dodging, the silence, crashed together into something electrifying, consuming, and entirely undeniable.
Every nerve in your body was alight, every heartbeat thrumming like it might shatter your chest, and for the first time in a long while, the world outside of that kiss ceased to exist.
He let out the faintest, breathless sound against your mouth, half–gasp, half–laugh, completely undone.
And Merlin, did that make you kiss him even harder.
When you finally pulled back, both of you were panting softly, foreheads pressed together, the moonlight painting silver across his freckles.
Fred blinked at you, dazed, lips kiss–swollen, voice barely more than a whisper.
“…Worth it.”
You snorted, nudging him in the chest. “You’re unbelievable.”
His grin widened, soft and crooked and stupidly full of adoration.
“And you’re mine.”
You raised a brow. “Slow down, Weasley. You’re on probation.”
He laughed, quiet, breathless, like the sound was bubbling straight out of relief. “Right. Probation. Best bloody probation of my life.”
He reached for your hand, tentative.
And this time, you didn’t just let him.
You laced your fingers through his.
Guess thirty-six times the charm.
this took me so long and kinda sucks and is all over the place, but hope you enjoy.
Summary: Fred Weasley’s latest invention leaves him unable to keep his private thoughts to himself. Quite unfortunate when you’re wearing his sweater and smiling at him.
A.N.: Here's just a little freddy fic while I'm still editing the next chapter for the great war and waiting for inspiration for my next sebastian one,, i hope you enjoy!
also available on ao3: here
“I thought we agreed to leave the testing to the fourth years?” George asked Fred, giving a strong questioning look to the small batch of rounded, chocolate covered candies that was being offered to him, on a gold colored napkin no less.
Fred had so far spent the better part of an hour trying to convince his brother to try out his new invention that was tied into the sweet. The idea was quite simple really. Each piece of the candy had a minor dosage of Veritaserum inside them, so the consumer wouldn’t feel an overarching need to share the complete truth, only a strange– yet very persistent– nagging feeling to do so. Similar to the Liquid Luck potion. They’d still be able to lie or avoid total truths, but just not without feeling a certain way about it.
Fred thought this would be perfect for the professors of Hogwarts, journalists, or even the Ministry of Magic. He also had the wandering thought that if you were able to get a taste of it, he’d have a better chance of finding out if you actually did have any feelings towards him, as George had tried telling him you did, before he took the leap of finally asking you out.
It was a big deal, really. The two of you had been building a friendship for the past six years together, since both of your first years at the school. He wasn’t too willing to throw all of that into the wind just because he couldn’t keep his feelings to himself for once. But, the longer he sat on the idea, he didn’t like the feeling of you not having complete and total control of your words, especially with that topic.
George, however? He was free game. He couldn’t find a reason that just double checking the validity of his statements about the potential relationship with you. If he heard something, he wouldn’t ask what, directly from you or if he just had another one of his “feelings” about it.
“They’re not too willing right now. Not after you mixed up the Ton-Tongue Toffees and the Nosebleed Nougat last week.” Fred pressed, pushing forward his hand again.
“Hardly my fault, that one. You’d think they know the difference by now.” George said, eyeing one of the chocolate covered balls. He had a funny feeling about being a test subject again, especially his twin’s. “Why don’t you just do it?” He said, shaking his head again at it and pushing his brother's hand away.
“Nothing to gain from me doing it.” Fred grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes to look in another direction.
Missing his words and only seeing the deflating look in his brother, George groaned. “Look,” He started, scratching the back of his neck. “If you try it first, and don’t explode or something, I’ll try it too.” He offered. Usually, they didn’t need two test subjects for one product, but it had been a while since they’ve created new joke candies, and if it didn’t hurt him, George didn’t mind telling the truth for a few hours.
Fred looked down at the sweets in his hands, then back to his brother. He let out a huff then placed one of them in his mouth and began chewing. If it meant George would also eat one and was able to answer just one of his questions, it’d be worth it. George gave a blank look at his brother’s dramatics, as he reached for his piece.
“What do you even call these things?” George asked, as he brought the candy closer to his face to eye it down better.
“Truth truffles.” Fred said, through his mouthful, trying to get it down quickly.
“And how’d you come up with the idea?”
Fred swallowed the candy in his mouth before he answered. “I wanted to give one to Y/N at first to see if she actually had feelings for me but then felt bad at the idea, mainly at the thought that she might hate me and never speak to me again. Then, I decided to just get you to try one to see if you were just blowing smoke on if she felt the same or not.” Fred heard his voice say, but he had little control of the words that were leaving. Paling, he met George’s eyes.
George narrowed his eyebrows at him with a questioning look. “That so?”
Fred nodded his head, unwillingly. “Yeah, I know that you’ll eventually forgive me for nearly whatever, but I’m not willing to risk the same with her. Not sure how I’d manage being around her so often when she’d want nothing to do with me. I hon–” Fred cut himself off with a hand over his mouth, but the muffled words of his sentence continued. He looked at his brother in horror as his previous sentence finished. “I didn’t mean to say all that.”
George stood there for a moment, unsure of how to go about this. His eyes fell down to the sweet that was in his hand then back to Fred. Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, he placed the candy back in his brother’s hand and took a step back.
“You know, now that I think about it, I’m actually quite fond of having a few private thoughts.”
Fred looked at him gobsmacked. “You said you’d try one if I didn’t explode.”
“I’d argue that you did.” George laughed. It was hard to feel bad for the guy when he’d just admitted that he not only planned to trick him, but that he could survive being hated by him for a bit if he got what he wanted.
“Oh..” Fred groaned out. “What am I meant to do? Madam Pomfrey said if she sees me again from another prank gone wrong, she would go straight to McGonagall and have me benched from quidditch for the rest of the season.” He said, dropping the truffles on the floor when he realized that he’d still been holding them, then looked back up to his brother. “You know I can’t be benched. Not only am I the best beater, I wouldn’t be able to see her cheer me on from the stands anymore. Merlin, she’d probably be embarrassed to even be seen with me.”
George’s laughter began to fade, midspiral, and he reached out to put his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Freddy, just take a breath.” Fred nodded his head and began breathing in deeply from his nose, no longer trusting his mouth enough to willingly open it. “We’re not going to Pomfrey.” George continued.
“We’re not?” Fred asked, confused.
“At least not yet, not if we don’t need to.” George said slowly, taking his hands off his brother. “We’ll just, uh, wait it out.”
“Wait it out? George, I’d like you to take a look at that clock over there.” Fred said, harshly pointing at the clock across the room. Right. It’s nearly lunchtime. George hummed in response and his mind began racing.
If they skipped lunch, you and Lee were sure to seek them out directly after, but if they went, Fred was sure to say something truly detrimental to you. The pair stood there for a moment trying to think of ways to get around this.
“I’ve got it.” Fred said, a wide smile across his face. George lifted his head to him and motioned for him to continue. “I’ll just keep my mouth full with food the entire time.” George gave him a blank look.
“That’s your plan? Stuff your face?”
“Yeah, it’s brilliant, really. If I do that, even if I were to swallow if they ask why I’m acting weird, it wouldn’t be suspicious when I shove a bread roll in my mouth before I can say it’s because I can’t stop thinking of kissing her every time she looks at me. They’ll never suspect a thing.” Fred finished, folding his arms in triumph.
George couldn’t help but to look at an imaginary camera. He had to’ve been getting pranked by someone much better than they were. Better yet, Fred had to be in on it.
“So we’re just ignoring how you kept trying to talk through your hand earlier. Right, okay.”
“It’s different. Food has density.” Fred pressed.
“So does your skull apparently.” George muttered, before his own idea comes to him. “We’ll just, Merlin, we’ll just sit away from them today. Surely they both can manage one day without us.” Fred nodded at his idea. It admittedly sounded much more manageable than his had.
“Right, that’s actually much better.” Fred pointed a finger at him.
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That plan lasted all of ten seconds, which, to be fair, was ten seconds longer than George had expected it to. The moment Fred and George entered the Great Hall, Lee Jordan had spotted them from the Gryffindor table and lifted one of his hands high in the air, and began to wave them over.
“Oi, over here!” Lee yelled over the loud ambiance. Fred stopped dead in his tracks, causing George to stumble into the back of him. Both of their faces fell when they realized what was going to happen. They couldn’t just blow you two off, at least not without repercussions.
“Oh that’s not fair.” Fred said under his breath as he took in the sight of you. You were wearing the deep forest green sweater you had stolen from him a few weeks prior, and giving him the most warm and welcoming smile he thought he’d ever seen. “She’s wearing my sweater and looking at me, like I haven’t spent the past fifteen minutes trying not to imagine kissing her senseless in front of the entire Gryffindor table.”
For one brief and defeated second, George closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. How did Fred’s trick manage to backfire on him and he was still the victim. “Right,” he opened his eyes again. “Time for my plan B and your plan A.” Fred gave him a wide eyed look as he pointed to the two seating options with you and Lee. Either directly in front of you or directly beside you.
“I can't,” Fred rushed out, shaking his head.
“Rather stand?” George asked him. Fred chewed the inside of his mouth as he weighed his options. If he sat across from you, he wasn’t sure he could hold himself back from staring at you the entire time, he could barely do it on a normal day. On the other hand, if he sat beside you, there was much greater risk of touching you. He looked over to his brother in horror after a moment.
“You two planning on joining us sometime?” Lee called out again, earning a laugh from you before you gave the pair an amused, yet confused look.
“Right.” George said, leading the way to the table, sparing a glance to his brother as he passed him. “You’ve lost choice.” He said, and Fred’s stomach dropped. As they both reached closer to the table, George turned to him quickly. “You beside. At least there if you look up from your plate, you’ll be looking at Jordan.
Before Fred could argue, George left his side and took the seat in front of you, offering a polite smile. He then looked past your shoulder and saw that his brother was still standing, just staring at the empty seat beside you.
Following his eyes, you gave Fred a questioning look. “You alright?” You innocently asked him. His gaze tore from the seat and in your direction. Then to the sweater that seemed to have melted over you. Then to your lips. His eyes widened in horror as his mouth began to open. Before he could get a word out, though, George quickly grabbed the bread roll from your plate and threw it over to Fred who quickly caught it.
“I’m alright for a gu–” was all he was able to get out before he took a large bite from the roll.
Your head snapped to George. “Hey, that was mine. What’d you do that for?”
His eyes met yours as he feigned a confused look. “Oh, were you using that? I’m sorry, Freddy boy just couldn’t stop talking about them the whole way here.” He said, shrugging his shoulders.
You were willing to let it slide, only giving a confused nod, and moved over a bit to make room for Fred beside you, who seemed to be trying his absolute hardest to not look in your direction again. He was chewing awful slow for someone who was just so desperate. Lee, however, was not as generous.
“You two are acting strange.” He stated, blatantly, looking between the twins. Before George could answer, you nodded your head and pointed an agreeing finger at Lee.
“Yeah…” You said, slowly. “Are you sure you're okay, Freddy?” You asked, turning your attention back to the boy directly beside you. He nodded quickly, still chewing. You tilted your head. “You don’t seem okay.” He nodded again, more insistently.
The twins then made eye contact, as if trying to say something without actually saying it. Looking between the two, you saw George’s look become more pressing as Fred finally swallowed his food, then immediately turned back to you, but not before giving his brother an apologetic look.
“I’m okay, great actually. You called me Freddy and you’re wearing my sweater like it’s just yours and you're sitting so close I can tell that you’re using the coconut scented shampoo that you know, well you actually don’t, is my absolute favorite.” Fred looked at you, absolutely mortified as his arm shot out to grab another roll, only he missed the bowl and George had to, again, quickly grab one and shove it in his hand. Fred spared his brother a grateful look as he took another bite. Though Fred’s eyes went down to his plate, yours never left him.
You and Lee met eyes for a moment, silently agreeing that this was strange. George however, looked between you and Lee then to his brother. If he didn’t get him out of here soon, it would get much worse, especially seeing as how you’ve completely stopped eating now and looked like you were trying to figure out what Fred had meant and what to say in return. Thankfully, you kept coming up blank.
“Right,” George said, as he reached to put a hefty serving of potatoes on Fred’s plate, much smaller and faster to eat. “Best not to drag out the most important meal of the day.” He finished, and Fred gave him a confused look. “Smaller. Faster. Places to be.” George said to his brother quickly, before grabbing his own fork and began hurriedly eating his own meal.
Lee gave him a confused look. “No, that’s breakfast.” George and Fred gave him an unamused look. Eyebrows still furrowed, you tore your gaze from Fred and to George as you slowly began eating again.
“Places to be, huh? You two have places to be?” Even though the question was directed at George, Fred quickly swallowed the food in his mouth to answer your question, shaking his head.
“No, not really. I’d stay here all day if I could do it without saying something utterly humiliating, like how when yo–”
“Eat.” George said sharply, cutting him off, pushing his plate closer to him.
“I think we’re long past the utterly humiliating part.” Lee said, taking another bite of his food, trying to suppress a grin. Fred gave him another annoyed look as he shoved a mouthful of potatoes in his mouth.
You were still stuck on how whatever he was about to say was about you again, and George noticed it, and preemptively took a large bite from his own plate. He really was hungry, but it seemed as though a full meal just wasn’t going to be in the cards today.
“What were you going to say?” You asked Fred, and Lee smiled. Fred tried really hard to not look at you, really, really hard, but when he felt your leg brush his under the table, he couldn’t help but to turn his head to you. The moment his eyes laid on you, George saw how his expression softened and knew they needed to get out of there. Harshly swallowing his food, he stood quickly and pulled his brother in a standing position from across the table. Fred made a muffled sound in protest around the potatoes in his mouth.
“Well, we’ve got to go. Got a…thing to get to.” He nodded to the door at his brother. Fred swallowed his food and nodded, but as he went to take a step away, you opened your mouth again.
“You guys just got here though?” You said to the boy who was standing beside you. He was completely helpless.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to leave, especially not when you're looking at me like that because it makes me just want to give you anything you’ve ever wanted, but I’m afraid if I stayed I might ruin my entire life.” He said, and George quickly made his way around the table and began pushing him towards the exit.
“Lovely lunch, we should do it again sometime.” George offered, giving a small smile to you and Lee as he rushed himself and Fred out the door.
As you watched them leave, before the door closed, Fred tried giving you an apologetic look, but was quickly pulled back by George. Slowly, you turned your head back to Lee.
“Ruin his life?” You asked, gathering more food on your fork, like it wasn’t a totally abnormal note for one of your best friends to leave a meal early over.
“He always has been a bit strange.” He said. “I’d bet an invention of his went wrong again, saw him in the kitchens this morning.” He finished shrugging his shoulders, and you nodded your head in agreement. “Lucky for us.”
“What were you doing in the kitchen?”
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After quickly climbing the stairs outside of the Great Hall, the boys found their seats on a nearby bench. While George was trying to plot their next move, Fred laid his head back on the wall behind him. He’d said some pretty damning things to you, ones that he was sure to cringe about for years to come, but he was fairly confident that once the serum wore off, he’d be able to find a way out of it that would only leave him somewhat embarrassed.
But as his mind tried to think of what he could say later, it just kept getting stuck on you. You in his sweater. The smell of your hair. The way your leg brushed against his. The worried look in your eyes. He could go on for hours about just how you were this afternoon, let alone the past few years.
“She is quite lovely, isn’t she?” Fred let out, looking at the ceiling above them. He was usually much better about keeping his thoughts about you inside, not wanting to let on how gone he already was to his friends, especially over a girl that wasn’t even his.
Slowly George looked over to his brother with a shocked expression. “That cannot be what you’re thinking about right now.”
Fred shrugged his shoulders. “It’s what I’m usually thinking about, only now I can’t keep it inside. Did you see the way she was basically drowning in the sweater, my sweater.”
“Did you see the way she was beginning to put the pieces together, too? Or were you just looking over that part?”
Fred rolled his eyes. “It should only last another…hour and a half…” He said, mumbling the last part, looking away.
“How long?”
“Just a…hour and a half,” Fred said quietly. George could only stare at him, and Fred refused to look in his direction.
Letting out a steady breath, George leaned back on the wall too. “We can avoid one person for that long. The castle is huge. It’ll be fine.”
It was like the universe was having a blast with the situation, because as soon as George finished saying that and let his guard down, they heard the Great Hall doors creak open.
“Weasleys!” Lee shouted into the hall, and both twins looked in the direction of the stairwell. Looking at each other, they both groaned.
Quickly, they both stood and darted in the direction of a nearby alcove which was hidden by a curtain, one they were both very well acquainted with from their years of hiding from the groundskeeper, Filch. George made fast work of pulling Fred in by his shirt as the top of Lee’s head began peering over the steps and closed the curtain behind them.
“I thought I heard someone up here.” Lee said, upping his pace on the stairs. Then your voice cut through the air and the twins looked at one another with wide eyes.
“I don’t know, Lee. He was acting pretty odd, maybe they actually did have somewhere to be and were just running a bit behind.” You said, loosely following behind him. You were hardly present in the conversation as your head kept reeling from Fred’s earlier words to you. Had he learned of your crush on him and was teasing you for it?
“Please, when have either of them had somewhere to be without one of us hearing about it first?” Lee asked, as he reached the top of the stairs and looked back at you. Behind the curtain, Fred pressed his back against the wall, already clamping a hand over his mouth and George hovered his own, ready to add an extra layer at the drop of a hat.
“Just trying to give the benefit of the doubt, Jordan.” You muttered, walking over to a bench in the middle of the hall. “Maybe they’re in the common room? Think I remember Freddy saying something about a Transfiguration essay he needed to work on.”
“Don’t be daft, you’re better than that.” You gave him a confused look. “When would Fred Weasley leave lunch early to work on an assignment?” He asked you. You opened your mouth to defend him, but then immediately closed it.
“I guess you’re right.” You said shrugging your shoulders, running out of excuses for the behavior. From behind the curtain, Fred gave George an offended look, to which he had to stifle his chuckle.
“Did you hear that?” Lee asked you, as his eyes skimmed through the hallway. George put his free hand over his own mouth. You gave a quizzical look and walked a little further into the hall. Now, from where you were standing, Fred could see your hand peeking out from the end of his sweater sleeve from a small break in the curtain. George saw the worried look in his eyes, and followed the direction to where they were looking. Once he saw the issue, he pressed his other hand over his brother’s.
Seeing and hearing nothing, you turned back to Lee. “Must’ve just been a portrait or something.” You shrugged. As you were walking away, you saw the curtain faintly move, and apparently so did Lee. Before he could say anything, you placed a finger over your lips to stop him from calling it out. “I guess we can just go and wait for them in the common room.” You said, winking at Lee, who smiled and nodded in response.
“You’re right, c’mon.” He said, then the both of you made a few steps in place and slowly quieted them, as if you were walking away. It was a shot in the dark if they’d fall for it. You were really banking on neither of them thinking straight based on how stressed they seemed to be earlier. Also, if it was just two other students making out or something, you didn’t want to pull the curtain back on that.
Only when the “footsteps” faded, did George remove his hands from their mouths, and they both let out a heavy breath. George glared over to his brother. “You so owe me.” He said, but Fred just waved him off.
“You think they heard us?” Fred asked. George brought his ear closer to the curtain, listening for anything, then shook his head. Fred nodded as he took hold of the curtain and pulled it back, both stepping out. The moment they looked in front of them, they both froze. You both were right there. Lee looked all too pleased and you stood with your arms crossed with a smirk on your face. For one long, horrible second, no one said anything, you all just looked at one another.
“Were you two hiding from us?” Lee asked, giddy. Fred opened his mouth to answer, and both his and George’s hands went to slap over it.
You raised an eyebrow. “That seems like a yes.” Lee nodded.
“Actually, a very complicated no.” George tried.
“That means yes.” Lee laughed.
Fred’s eyes flicked to you, then quickly away. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Freddy?” You asked him, taking half a step closer. Fred made a pained noise from behind the pair of hands, and looked to his brother for help.
George then turned to you, “I’m begging you, don’t say his name like that right now.”
“Why?” You and Lee said simultaneously, looking between the two. Fred’s muffled words were indistinguishable, but he went on for a notable amount of time. You just slowly nodded at him, unsure of what else to do.
“That’s why.”
Lee smiled brightly. “I’ve literally never wanted to hear him talk more than I do right now.”
“Do we get any explanation for what happened earlier, or even why you’re both trying to hide from us?”
“Well, it’s really just you.” George said. You gave him a confused look as you jerked your head back a bit at that. Fred’s eyes widened as he smacked his brother with his free hand. “Not like that, in a rude way, just–” Then Fred tried to cut him off, and gave, yet another, long and muffled monologue.
“That’s not helping.” Lee loudly whispered over to him.
“He’ll be back to normal in an hour, alright? Then you both can berate the both of us as much as you’d like.” George said, and Fred nodded frantically, then he looked over to you, and visibly softened and tried to say something else.
“What happened? He was fine this morning.” You pressed further.
“Just… a little experiment gone wrong.” George barely explained.
“Told you.” Lee said to you. You looked at George to explain just a bit further.
“He doesn’t exactly have private thoughts at the moment.” He said, and Fred nodded. Your face then went slack as you blinked from George to Fred.
“So what you were saying earlier about my shampoo and…” Your voice trailed off, a soft smile forming on your face. He wasn’t teasing you, it was just his thoughts at that moment. At the sight of you, Fred then pulled his brother’s hand from his mouth and his own. Maybe there actually was a chance.
“All personal thoughts. My least damning ones if we’re being honest here. Usually I’m thinking about how badly I want to kiss you, hold your hand, and be the only reason you smile like that whenever you do anything minorly inconvenient, like smile at me or exist in the same space.” He grimaced. A bit much than what he was actually going for, but as he saw the way your cheeks began to redden, and your smile deepened, he found himself much less regretful. George and Lee, however, both groaned.
Fred ignored them both, his eyes still on you. For the first time since he ate that truffle, he wasn’t completely horrified by his private thoughts leaving his mouth unfiltered. Nervous? More than anything. But horrified or scared? Not anymore. Not after seeing your smile.
George looked between you two, then leaned towards Lee. “Maybe we should go?”
“Oh, what? It’s just getting started.” Lee drawled.
You took a step closer to Fred, ignoring the both of them. “You think about kissing me?”
Lee’s nose shriveled at that. “You were right.” He said, already letting George pull him toward the stairs, their steps fading.
“All the time.” He whispered. You both smiled at one another as the words settled between you.
“Freddy,” You started, softly, taking the final step closer to him.
His breath hitched. “Careful, you know what that does to me.”
“Are you trying not to think of it right now?” You asked, your gaze flickering from his eyes to his lips.
Fred followed your movement, and his own gaze dropped to your lips. “No, I gave up on that the moment you smiled at me.” He admitted quietly. Your smile deepened. “You’re doing that on purpose now.”
“You don’t seem upset about it.” You said, watching how his tongue quickly swept over his lips before he answered.
“I’m not. I’m actually starting to think this is the best thing that’s ever gone wrong for me.”
“Can you, then?” You asked him, practically pleading.
Fred went very still. “Kiss you?” He asked, and you only nodded.
With a soft smile, he placed one of his hands on the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair as he slowly brought you closer and closed the space between you. He started very gently, still hesitant on if he was actually allowed to have this or not, but as he felt your hand come to his cheek, all barriers broke inside him.
His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer as he kissed you with the intensity of all the words he’d never been brave enough to say over the years of your friendship. Every stolen glance, every longing thought. You could feel it all, and as you felt his thumb slowly brush back and forth on your waist, you knew he did too.
When you both finally pulled back, it had only been for the fact that you needed air. Fred’s forehead rested against yours, eyes closed, as a smile began breaking across his face, trying and failing to keep it contained.
“That was…”
“Fun.” He said, breaking in, and eyes opening to look at you. “It’s very fun, kissing you.”
Before you could respond, from somewhere at the bottom of the stairs, George’s voice echoed faintly through the corridor. “Is it safe to come back, or are you both still being gross?” Fred rolled his eyes at his brother, but his smile didn’t falter.
“Still being gross!” He yelled back, pulling you back in. At least he was being honest.
When Fred was told he couldn't have her he became instant to somehow, in some way, make her his.
Word Count: 3368
Part 2
{Contains: strong language, slight angst, mention of the su!cide (in a different context but thought I'd add it)}
"Please tell me he's not doing what I think he's doing?" Lee Jordan rolled his eyes as he plonked himself down next to George Weasley at the Gryffindor table, both their eyes were on Fred Weasley across the hall walking up to the Slytherin table for the fifth time that week. It was only Tuesday.
"I told him not too." George groaned, looking back down to his plate, a slight cringe set upon his expression. "He doesn't listen."
"When's he going to give up?" George scoffed at the latter boy's question. Truth was 'Fred Weasley' and 'give up' didn't belong in the same sentence. Fred never took the word 'no' well, in fact he never took it at all. If he was told he couldn't have something he would go out of his way to make it his. He had been the exact same growing up, George being along for the entire ride, by whatever means it would take he would get what he wanted in the end. Now, Fred wasn't spoiled by any means, he was just tactical. If he couldn't afford something he would find other ways to achieve his goals, much to his mothers displeasure but what she doesn't know won't kill her.
"Never."
Since about third year Fred's interests had turned to girls, of course he still loved causing chaos on occasion but as puberty hit him he started noticing things he hadn't before, feelings he couldn't understand. The girls were changing more and more each summer, sloping curves where there wasn't previously, and Fred was noticing with more interest each time. By now in his seventh year, barely a month from the end of his final term, he had tried many flavours. He couldn't let himself be tied to just one, where would be the fun in that? Why have just one when you could have many?
Well that was before he met y/n. When she waltzed into potions class one morning in sixth year, all eyes were on her and her simple elegance as she took her seat. Fred felt his jaw drop. Who was this girl? Where has she come from if not heaven? Since that day he had been down right bad for her, nothing anyone could do or say to change that.
"Mr Weasley there is a space next to miss l/n." Snape has drawled, pointing towards the witch who now had her back to him. She looked back curiously, wide eyed and surprised. "Maybe she can make sure you don't blow this cauldron up."
Fred's knees felt weak as he set off over to her, his stomach churned slightly taking the seat beside her then proceeded to fall when she looked over at him from the corner of her eye. Her brow raised for a second, eyes flicking over his appearance.
"I'm y/n." Her voice smooth and soft as she spoke. Fred gulped.
"Fred Weasley."
"Yeah, I know who you are." Her tone, though soft, was cold. Like speaking to him was a chore, he would usually pen girls like that as a prissy self entitled know-it-all, but for some reason even her cold tone made his heart flutter.
She barely let him touch the cauldron, he was forced to measure out the ingredients, chopping each exactly how she had shown him. She watched him like a hawk the entire time, it seemed she knew his reputation and Fred didn't know whether to be thrilled or embarrassed. Fred was rarely embarrassed by anything, but the idea you might be actively judging him made his skin crawl slightly. By the end of class Professor Snape was shocked to find the cauldron intact, examining it closely for the sight of even a scruff that could put Fred into detention. By some miracle he scowled and placed the cauldron back down onto the desk.
"Looks like we make a good team." Fred tried to act like his usual nonchalant self as he turned to the girl beside him.
"We are not a team." She spun from the desk and stepped down from her seat, leaving in a wave of flowing hair and zero goodbyes. Yet, even with her cold responses Fred let out a sigh of dreaminess.
Then fast forward to right now, George and Lee staring at their lovestruck best friend make a fool of himself again. It had been going on for over a year now and as the end of their time at Hogwarts was coming to a close Fred just seemed to become more persistent.
"Y/n?" She knew that voice too well at this point, she rolled her eyes not even turning to face the ginger haired, freckled faced Weasley. She raised a questioning eyebrow, one that said 'what is it this time?'
"What do you want, Weasley?" A slight grimace was held back from her expression, Merlin forbid she have one peaceful meal while Fred Weasley was lingering somewhere.
"Hey, that's no way to address your favourite Gryffindor." He smirked, trying his best to hide his desperation behind his eyes.
"You are not my favourite anything."
"We both know that's not true, even if I am a pain in your ass I'm definitely your favourite pain in the ass." He smirked that shit-eating grin she was growing to despise. She rolled her eyes going to face him, then she stopped taken-a-back slightly. He'd cut his hair, the once long mop had been trimmed down. Now, it was still slightly messy as it had always been but less offence to prim and proper eyes.
"Do you like it?" One of his pale hands reaches up to run through his freshly cut tendrils. "I cut it just for you."
She blinked once more before scowling again. "Should have saved your money." She turned back to her plate, trying her very best to ignore the way her stomach had flipped seeing him run his hands along his scalp.
"Ah, I've got a bit to spare." He winked even if she wasn't looking back at him. "You know I was wondering-"
"Don't bother." She cut him off almost instantly, a hand coming up to silence him like a preacher to an assembly. "Not interested."
"Oh come on, aren't you curious?" He leaned his palms on the table beside her and spoke into her ear.
"No." She deadpanned.
"Why my dear, sweet princess," she cringed. "I beg you on my knees." His mock posh accent made her forceably bite back a smile of amusement. "Won't you hear a poor begging man on his knees out, just this once."
She let her fork clatter back down onto her plate, turning to him with furrowed eyebrows and a frown. "Hey, if the wind changes you'll be stuck like that." He poked her arm to which she wafted him off.
"What is it?" She finally snapped, her arms folded over her chest.
"Oh I knew you had some fondness hidden away for me." He teased her, this didn't do anything to soften her hardened expression however.
"You know the last hogsmeade trip of the year is coming up, I was wondering if you would do me the honour of spending it with me." This time her expression changed from that hardened scowl to slight surprise.
"Yeah, yeah, not a chance."
"But, your majesty surely you want to please your loyal subjects." He whispered into her ear causing her to gasp and cover her ear up with her hand.
"Get lost." Fred shook his head with a frown.
"Not until you say yes." He crossed his own arms over his chest, mirroring her stance.
"Fred, what about 'I'm not interested' don't you understand?" But the boy only smiled wider.
"How do you know so well you aren't interested if you haven't even tried me out for size? Besides, I know plenty of ways to show you a good time."
"Gross."
"Yeah, yeah act like you aren't curious but I know just as well as you that you are." He snickered slightly. "I'm not leaving till you give me a chance."
After a short silence and realisation he really wasn't going to take no for an answer she sighed. "Fine." She mentally cursed herself.
Fred's face lit up like a lightbulb, smiling brighter than the sun on a hot day. He didn't say another word however, just bowed slightly and walked back over to his awaiting friends with the biggest grin on his features and a spring in his step.
"What you smirking about?" Lee chimed as Fred sat himself down across from the pair.
"She's clearly in a good mood today, he's come out bruise free." George added.
"I've only gone and scored." Fred winked at his friend's, his grin never faltering. The other two boys faces had dropped, mouths hanging to catch fly's.
"You're taking the piss right now." Lee managed to squeeze out in his state of shock and surprise. Fred shook his head, a smug look upon his features.
"Deadly serious."
"There's no way it was that easy, there must be some sort of catch?" George looked between Lee and Fred, Lee nodding in agreement with the latter's twin.
"I told you I was wearing her down." Fred smiled with his hands coming to the back of his head.
"Yeah, well I'm not buying it for a second." Lee shook his own head in disbelief.
"What can I say I'm very persuasive."
"You're very much a twat." George scoffed before taking a sip of pumpkin juice.
"Say what you want, but I'll show you both when hogsmeade is over she won't be able to resist me."
-
Saturday came faster then y/n would have liked, everyday leading up Fred had somehow managed to catch her eye like a constant reminder of the looming weekend trip. However, he hadn't approached her since she agreed. It was strange not having him bug her all the time, constantly bragging about his recent achievements in her eyes with the attempt of impressing her. She would never admit out loud that she sort of, slightly missed it. No no, she was happy to be left alone at last. At least that's what she tried to tell herself.
Friday night she received an owl from Fred.
Y/n,
Meet me at the fountain in central hall at 11
Fred x
His scrawl was just about legible on the slightly scuffed paper. She sighed looking down at the kiss, she was not going to give in so easily, even if her heart fluttered as she read the message over and over. Tomorrow she would meet him, make it into hogsmeade then find a way to lose him in the crowd of students. She was not going to stick around much longer than necessary.
That morning she got ready not realising how many quick checks she had made to her appearance, Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson gave each other a look as they watched her hover around the mirror like a moth to flame.
"Come on you look fine." Pansy pushed her away from the mirror so she could brush her hair which she has been waiting to do for twenty minutes. "What's gotten into you anyway? It's only hogsmeade." The dark haired girl rolled her eyes.
"Oh! Are you meeting a boy!" Daphne interjected with a bright look on her face.
"It's not like she doesn't see boys everyday." Pansy groaned nearby but Daphne ignored her.
"Something like that." Y/n felt her cheeks burn slightly under the eyes of the other two girls.
"Ooh, do we know him?" She felt her voice stuttering the back of your throat. She couldn't admit she was meeting Fred Weasley, in the Slytherin house that was social suicide.
"I-erm...no." She stammered and before Daphne could respond she darted out of the dorm door.
She was early, mentally groaning as she walked up to central hall from the dungeons. God, Fred was going to think she actually wanted to see him. The thought haunted her, the sight of his grin when he sees her there early, Merlin it will definitely go to his head.
By a stroke of luck Fred was already sitting there on the edge of the fountain waiting, he was tapping his foot while swirling his wand as if it was a drumstick. He hadn't seen her yet where she lingered by the steps. She could turn back, stand him up. But, was she really that cruel? A sigh left her lips. Fuck it.
She approached slowly, almost cautiously, Fred Weasley was many things and predictable wasn't one of them. However, when his eyes finally met hers he simply smiled. Not that shit-eating grin she hated, a real true smile she'd never seen before. Her breath hitched slightly. As the space started to close between them he finally spoke.
"You actually turned up." He looked both surprised and relieved. "I didn't think you would."
"One date. That's it, got it?" She poked him lightly in the chest with her wand like a threat.
"Did you just call this a date?" Fred smirked, not even he explicitly called it that.
"Don't start, Weasley." He put his hands up in surrender as he stood from his space by the fountain.
"Yes madam." He mock saluted with a wink.
This was going to be a long day.
Hogsmeade was packed, it was the warmest trip to the wizarding village yet and everyone was out to enjoy it. Y/n had tried to make several escapes already but each time she was intercepted by Fred who, to his credit, was an instant bugger. She kept her head down as they walked around the village hoping to avoid eye contact with anyone who might recognise them both, while Fred was insisting they hold hands as they browsed. "Can't be having you getting lost now, can we?" She rolled her eyes trying to turn her face away from his.
"When mine and George's joke shop opens poor old Zonko's is going to look like child's play." Fred snickered as they exited the brightly coloured shop. The entire way round Fred has been rambling about Weasley's Wizard Wheezes', whatever that was, y/n wasn't really paying attention too busy dodging any familiar faces.
"Would you like to go to Honeydukes next?" Y/n grunted in response, head down and clearly still not listening. Suddenly, she felt herself being jerked back by Fred stopping abruptly in the cobblestoned street. As she looked up in confusion her eyes met his, the playful glint replaced with pained frustration.
"Y/n," his voice was stern, so unlike himself. "I'm trying my best here and you are giving me nothing."
"I don't know wh-" she started before he cut her off abruptly.
"Yes you do, you know exactly what I'm talking about." His voice had raised slightly, not quite shouting yet but enough to attract some odd looks around the two of them.
"Fred, you are making a scene." Y/n awkwardly glanced around at the nosy eyes of onlookers, her cheeks stained a light shade of pink from discomfort.
"I don't care." Fred retorted honestly. "I asked you to give me a chance, just one chance that's all." She swallowed slightly looking up at him, his hand running through his red tendrils in annoyance with a pained expression displayed across his features. For just a moment she wished she could replace his hand with her own.
"What is it that's so horrible about me that makes you hate me so much? Huh?" Fred prodded again. "Do you want me to change? I can't change who I am y/n."
"Fred, stop it." You warned him, eyes piercing up at him as he spun you around to face him properly.
"No, not until you tell me why." He wasn't budging and you knew he wouldn't. "Why won't you even give me a chance?"
"Because I like you too much alright!" The words weren't meant to slip out, in fact they were never meant to slip out, they were reserved for sleepless nights in the dorm where she could grovel over her misfortune of falling for a Weasley. She bit her bottom lip as her cheeks stained crimson, her hands felt clammy all of a sudden and eyes couldn't even stay focused on him choosing to look at the ground. "I like you more than I can admit to myself." This was no more than a whisper.
Fred just stared blankly down at the smaller girl, the street was suddenly abandoned besides the two of them but he wouldn't have noticed anyway. He wasn't quite sure if he had heard her correctly, was this all some big joke? But, the longer he looked down at her the more and more he realised it wasn't a joke, she was being honest for the first time.
"Then why do you act like you hate me?" His voice was just loud enough to be caught in the air between them.
"Because it's easier that way!" His expression softened from his previously shocked face, a hand reaching for hers which she took hesitantly. His rough hands against her own soft and slightly sweaty ones, if it wasn't for what she had just admitted she would have been embarrassed by the heat of her body. "If anyone knew they..." She trailed.
"I know." Fred did know. The rivalry of the opposing houses ran deep, much deeper than quidditch matches and house cups, it ran deep through the veins of the very beginning of the founders. Gryffindors saw all Slytherins as blood purist scum, a horrible stereotype that still lingered among the wizarding families of old blood dynasties. Slytherins saw Gryffindors as traitorous, overly boisterous brutes never knowing when they took things too far all in the name of courage with a lack of critical thinking. Of course, there was some truth in these statements but things weren't that black and white anymore. They hated each other cause they were told too, that was the bottom line, and liking one of the opposite house will come with it's issues on both sides.
"But, I don't care." Fred finally finished, his thumb rubbing soothingly across her knuckles. "Neither should you."
"Fred, my friends..."
"If they are truly your friends they would want to see you happy." He had a point, he always had a point and was always annoyingly right.
"I know. I know." Her voice was barely above a whisper now, eyes cast down on the floor. His other hand that was limply hanging at his side came up to hook under her chin tilting it up to face him. His brown eyes gleamed down at her once more inhabiting the glint they had lost just moments earlier.
"Fuck everyone." He smiled, suddenly that shit-eating grin wasn't as annoying as it had been previously. "Who cares what they think really, y/n you're all that matters to me." Her own eyes met his in slight disbelief, she wanted to call his bluff and challenge him but just the look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.
Hesitantly, her small soft hand came up to run her knuckles around his jaw. "Do you truly mean that? After everything?"
"Cross my heart, love." His smile softened just like it had that morning in central hall, his red locks like fire in the sunlight just begging for her to touch. Before she could stop herself, that hesitant hand that ran along his jaw suddenly slid through the locks at the back of his head pulling him down. His breath caught a split second before she pressed her lips hard on top of his without warning. He was still for a moment before melting back into her, eyes slowly closing and body relaxing fully. His lips were slightly chapped, hers soft and smooth. She kissed desperately with bite and heat, he let her lead but pressed back with matching further. They were perfectly contradicting and neither could let go.
When they pulled apart his hair was askew, lips both red from the abuse and noses bumping against each other softly.
"I could get used to that." Fred's cocky side smirk returned, grinning against her face.
Summary: George Weasley completely fails in Transfiguration and is about to never play Quidditch again. Fortunately (or not) for him, McGonagall makes you help him.
Warnings: Sexual implications, suggestive content, no use of y/n.
Cw: kinda slow burn, they maybe stopped hating each other…
Wc: almost 4k
Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5 (finale)
That first tutoring session was painfully quiet. Too quiet for George’s liking. Wasn’t this supposed to help him?
He stared down at his notes and, every time he tried to understand something, it somehow made even less sense. He played with his quill, lazily flipping through the pages while you scribbled something down on your own parchment like your life depended on it.
When he first walked in, George thought you’d already planned everything before McGonagall talked to him, but now, sitting there in complete silence, he was starting to question it.
He rested his elbow on the table, leaning his face against his hand while staring at you. Actually staring. For several long seconds. And just as he was about to break the silence, you looked up and met his eyes.
He swallowed hard.
What had he done wrong this time? Was it something he said? Impossible. He hadn’t said a word in the last ten minutes. Maybe it was the way he breathed. Oh, of course. As if even his breathing annoyed you.
“Here,” you said, handing him whatever you’d been writing for the past few minutes.
The parchment was full of notes. George’s strengths and weaknesses, every mistake he made in class, everything he got right, and countless spells.
George looked at you while you started explaining the pages. You criticized every single one of his mistakes without mercy, but George didn’t really mind. Honestly, he saw the perfect opportunity to make a joke.
“You forgot something,” George interrupted.
“Impossible,” you said immediately, grabbing the parchment back and quickly scanning everything written on it, searching for a mistake that apparently didn’t exist. “Where?”
“Right here.” He pointed at the section where you’d written down his strengths. “You forgot the most important thing.”
George ran a hand through his hair, a charming grin appearing on his face.
“My handsome face.”
You looked at him with an expression George couldn’t understand. Hate, disgust, embarrassment. Maybe all three.
“Every minute counts, Weasley. This isn’t the time for jokes.”
The smile on George’s face dropped. You almost felt bad for him. Almost. You weren’t really sure why.
“Can we continue now?”
“Sorry. It was just a joke…”
—————
The days passed like that.
Every day, at the same time and in the same place, almost religiously, you and George met for tutoring sessions.
You’d say things like, “You rotate too early,” and he’d answer with, “No one’s complained about that before,” in that shameless tone of his. You usually settled for rolling your eyes.
The more time you spent together, the easier it became to teach him.
You quickly realized he wasn’t a bad student at all. You noticed how talented and smart he actually was. Honestly, you’d stopped understanding how he managed to get such a bad grade considering how quickly he learned things and how obviously he used Transfiguration for all kinds of pranks.
You tried not to think too much about it, even though you’d started noticing him far more than you should.
The way he pushed his hair back absentmindedly. The way he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt whenever he got frustrated. The stupid way his hair somehow always fell perfectly back into place afterward.
It was unfair, really.
You shook your head quickly and looked back down at your notes.
Focus.
Merlin, you used to find George unbearable.
But you weren’t the only one.
George noticed you too. Maybe a little too much for his own good.
During lessons, you often gave George something like a small test so you could finish your own assignments. And during those moments, George took the chance to watch you.
To watch the way you focused so hard on whatever you were doing, like the rest of the world stopped existing around you. The way, on that particular day, you weren’t wearing your robes because of the heat. The way your hair was tied up in a ponytail.
George looked back down at his parchment for exactly three seconds before glancing at you again.
This was getting ridiculous.
Maybe he really had hit his head too hard during that failed Switching Spell last week.
His eyes drifted back to you before he could stop himself.
To the few buttons of your shirt you’d absentmindedly undone because of the heat. To the way your lips pressed against the end of your quill while you thought.
George swallowed hard.
Had the library always been this hot?
And for once, it was George trying to push thoughts away.
The rest of the lesson passed peacefully enough, and you thought you’d explained everything clearly without getting too distracted by… well, anything he did that affected you in weird ways.
“You’re getting better,” you said absentmindedly while packing your things into your bag.
“A compliment? From you? Who are you and what did you do to Hawthorne?”
You held back a smile. George noticed.
“A little encouragement won’t kill you. You really did improve.”
George smiled.
You threw your bag over your shoulder, ignoring whatever weird feeling that was.
“Anyway, I’m leaving. You should really study on your own sometimes, you know. It’d make this whole thing faster.”
“Ah, there she is. My lovely and brilliant Hawthorne,” George said without thinking.
My what?
You looked at him, feeling your face burn up.
Immediately, George realized what he’d just said, and you watched his face change color in seconds.
“I— right— I mean, old! Not old, Merlin, you’re not old. I got confused. I meant my good old Hawthorne. Not lovely. Not that you aren’t lovely! Because you are. Very lovely! I just— I— sorry.”
George immediately wanted to smack himself.
Since when did complimenting a girl make him nervous? Usually flirting came naturally to him. The words just slipped out, and before he knew it, there was another girl sighing over him.
“I—” The words got stuck halfway out. You tried to ignore the strange feeling in your chest.
“I should get going,” you finally managed to say before practically running out of the library, leaving George Weasley completely stranded.
George put a hand over his face and sighed. But what the hell was that? Why was he feeling so strange? And why the bloody hell had he called you adorable?
As he packed up his things, he heard what sounded like a laugh and recognized it immediately. He sighed before turning around, only to find Fred Weasley looking like he was enjoying every second of this.
“Pathetic, honestly,” Fred said as he walked over, throwing an arm over George’s shoulders. “Thought you came here to study, mate. Not flirt with your tutor.”
“I wasn’t flirting with her.”
“Sure you weren’t. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
George just threw his bag over his shoulder and started walking away.
“You’re already down bad for her.”
“What? Course I’m not!”
“Course you are.”
“Tsk, as if I’d ever like someone like her.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s she like, then?”
“Annoying. Irritatingly brilliant. Corrects me too much, sometimes talks to me like I’m a complete idiot. Walks around like Hogwarts belongs to her. Always knows the answer to every question no matter the class. Every professor praises her for something. It’s irritating,” he started listing off.
“And she’s stupidly pretty. Stupidly attractive for her own good,” he sighed.
Fred had the biggest grin on his face.
“You’ve got some strange taste… falling for the only girl who can’t stand you.”
“I know…” George couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice. But… you had been nicer lately. Well, at least compared to the first few lessons.
Maybe… maybe you were changing your mind too. The thought alone gave George hope.
But immediately, his mind betrayed him.
What if you were only being nice because the month was almost over and you’d finally be rid of him?
His scowl returned instantly.
“Oh, come on, mate. It’s not that bad. I bet she likes you too. I mean, you’ve got my face! And it’s impossible not to fall for this,” Fred said smugly, running a hand through his hair.
“And why exactly do I have your face instead of you having mine?”
“Because I’m the older one, Georgie. And the better-looking one too.”
—————
George couldn’t sleep.
He’d lost count of how many times he’d tossed and turned that night, and all he could think about was you.
Your eyes. Your smile…
Your lips.
He groaned, pulling the blanket over his face.
Why was he feeling like this?
George groaned again and turned onto his side. This was ridiculous.
It wasn’t like he’d never liked a girl before. He was George Weasley, for Merlin’s sake. Flirting was supposed to be easy. Natural.
So why did you make him feel like his brain stopped working entirely?
Every time you looked at him for more than five seconds, he forgot how to act like a normal human being.
And that stupid smile.
He pulled the blanket tighter over his face.
Brilliant. Now he was smiling too.
“Blimey, you’re hopeless.”
George nearly jumped out of bed.
He lowered the blanket just enough to see Fred Weasley leaning against the bedpost, looking half asleep and far too amused for this hour of the night.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to watch you grin at the ceiling like a lovesick idiot.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t. You’re too busy thinking about her.”
George grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at Fred’s face.
Fred barely reacted.
“Oi!” another voice complained from across the room.
George turned just in time to see Lee Jordan lowering the book that had apparently been hit instead.
“You missed,” Lee said flatly.
“Unfortunately,” Fred added.
George groaned loudly and dropped back against the mattress. “Can both of you shut up?”
“No,” Fred answered immediately.
“Absolutely not,” Lee agreed.
George pressed the pillow over his face.
“This is torture.”
“Oh, this?” Fred grinned. “No, no. This is entertaining.”
Lee sat up in bed, now suddenly very interested. “Wait, are we finally talking about the tutoring sessions?”
“There is nothing to talk about.”
“Mhm,” Lee nodded. “And I suppose you always stare at people like they’ve hung the bloody moon.”
George pulled the pillow off his face just to glare at him. “I do not stare at her.”
Fred snorted.
“You walked straight into a suit of armor yesterday because she smiled at you,” Lee pointed out.
“That happened once.”
“And then you called her lovely,” Fred added dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. “Honestly, George, I didn’t know you had it in you.”
George looked genuinely horrified. “Can you stop bringing that up?”
“Oh, absolutely not,” Fred said immediately.
Lee was trying very hard not to laugh now. “You called her lovely?”
George buried his face back into the pillow with a groan.
“She smiled at him and he just melted,” Fred continued. “It was tragic to witness.”
“I hate both of you.”
“No, you don’t,” Lee said. “You’re just embarrassed because you’re down horrendous.”
George threw another pillow at him this time.
Lee caught it easily.
“Oh, mate,” he said with a grin, “you are so finished.”
George woke up the next morning in a horrible mood. Not because of Fred Weasley. Or Lee Jordan. Or even the fact that he’d barely slept. No, what truly ruined his morning was the horrifying realization that they were right.
He fancied you.
Absolutely tragic.
“You look ill,” Lee commented as George Weasley collapsed dramatically onto the bench at the Gryffindor table.
“I am ill.”
“With what?” Fred asked while stealing toast from George’s plate.
George looked genuinely miserable.
“Feelings.”
Fred nearly choked laughing.
“Oh, this is brilliant.”
“No, it’s not,” George muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “This is serious.”
That only made Fred laugh harder.
Lee looked between the twins with far too much amusement. “So let me get this straight. You, George Weasley, flirt with half of Hogwarts without blinking—”
“Exaggeration.”
“—but one girl calls you annoying and suddenly you forget how to function?”
George pointed at him aggressively. “Exactly! See? That’s exactly the problem!”
Fred wiped fake tears from his eyes dramatically. “He’s gone,” he sighed. “Completely gone.”
George groaned and let his forehead hit the table. This was humiliating.
And somehow, the universe hated him enough to make it worse. Because at that exact moment, you walked into the Great Hall. George lifted his head instinctively.
There you were again. Perfect uniform. Perfect posture. Looking unfairly composed for this early in the morning.
And then you smiled.
Not at him.
At someone else.
George immediately frowned.
Fred noticed in less than three seconds. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re jealous already.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“You look jealous.”
“I look sleep deprived.”
“You look murderous,” Lee corrected.
George ignored both of them, eyes still fixed on the boy talking to you near the Ravenclaw table. Some tall idiot George vaguely recognized from Charms. You laughed softly at something he said.
George hated him instantly.
“What’s his name?” George asked before he could stop himself.
Fred went silent for exactly one second before grinning dangerously. “Oh, Merlin.”
Lee looked delighted now. “This keeps getting better.”
George realized his mistake immediately. “I don’t care, actually.”
“Mhm,” Fred nodded. “That’s why you’re staring at him like you’re planning his funeral.”
George grabbed his goblet and took an aggressive sip of juice. Across the Hall, you glanced over absentmindedly. Your eyes met George’s for barely a second before he immediately looked away.
Which was strange.
Usually he held eye contact just to annoy you.
You frowned slightly.
Fred noticed that too.
“Oh, now she’s confused,” he whispered excitedly.
“Fred,” George said warningly.
“No, no, keep acting strange. Maybe she’ll think you’ve been possessed.”
Lee leaned forward. “Or maybe she’ll finally realize you fancy her.”
George froze.
“…Do you think she knows?”
Fred and Lee exchanged a look before bursting into laughter again.
George hated his life.
A/n: well, i think i got carried away while writing. i want to thank you guys for supporting the first part!
—𝓙 — More witty and clever with his punchlines. His jokes are more creative—his insults even more so—and funnier as a result. He'll make a joke you wouldn't even thought of and it'll have you in stitches everytime. And the laughter he earns will leave a small, smug smirk on his face everytime.
—𝓙 — His memory is incredible. The detail he can recall events in, especially the ones from years ago always tends to surprise his friends and family. He's the type of guy you go to when you need to remember what was said or what you were doing. The only problem is whether he was actually paying attention at the time
—𝓙 — He's a collector. And not something normal or specific like stamps, special coins ect. He'll find something random and stuff it in his pocket. A pretty stone? He's keeping it. A clover? He's keeping it. A random button? He's keeping it until his pockets are just filled with nonsense and nothing particularly useful.
—𝓙 — Whenever something is bothering him (in a way that has upset or saddened him in anyway) you won't hear of it straight away unless it is something huge. George is someone who needs time to be with his thoughts and sit with his feelings for awhile before he can begin to confide in someone, if he ever were to. He just hates to voice his needs or be an emotional burden.
—𝓙 — Whilst George may not enjoy talking about his emotions, he deeply values the opportunity to talk about his passions. Letting him waffle on about his latest ideas for the shop or a sketch or peice he's planning will mean a lot to him. He will talk and talk and talk until he can't say anything more. The deciding factor for whether he opens up to you again will be your enthusiasm whilst listening to him.
—𝓙 — He's extremely competitive and will not back down from a challenge as soon as it has been set. He will see winning a boardgame as a personal life goal and treat winning it as such. His poker face is incredible and he'll say things to make you think he's further from winning than he actually is. He's just so good at them and it's both fun and annoying to play against him
—𝓙 — This man loves Christmas. And when I say love, I mean he LOVESSS it. Christmas is by far his favourite time of year because he just loves how colourful and festive everything becomes. He loves the decor, the food, the drinks, the films, the time spent with his loved ones. He just finds so much joy in the holiday festivities.
