summary: For those that knew him, they wondered what he'd done again this time. For the rare few who didn’t, asked who Fred was—and why was he always fucking Weasley. It wasn't hard to get the whole school talking when you'd be declaring his name down the corridors like you were waging a war. But in reality? You were just the favorite person whose skin Fred Weasley loved to get under the most.
c/w: hogwarts au where they have a university, aged up characters above twenty, playful teasing, reader hits fred but not to cause harm, annoyance as flirting, fred and reader bickering, getting scolded by a professor
w/c: 2.7k
Ever since you'd started attending Hogwarts, you knew your favorite pastime would be the independent study periods, even as a first year whose bag was bigger than your own body.
It did, however, bum you out greatly when you found out it wasn't without supervision. Snape or McGonagall would always be stalking between tables, looming over students' shoulders to make sure they were properly getting their work done or seeing to it that nobody lost their finger to a stray jinx. But when you weren't partnering up to practice counter-curses or calculating teeth-grating grids for Astronomy, you'd be socializing with other fellow students both in upper and lower years.
Not much had changed as time went by. You now sat in your second year of Advanced Studies, contentedly wrapping up a game of charmed Gobstones — ones that don't blow smelly fumes into your faces if you lose — with a student a year below you.
"Good game, Brocklehurst," you praised, chucking her the tied bag of stones. "Beat me fair and square. I'm impressed."
She chuckled, shoving it back into her bag. "Or you've gotten a bit rusty."
"Oh, shush. S'just been a while, that's all."
"If a while meant three days, then... yeah. Definitely enough time to grow a bit 'stiff'."
You pointed an accusing finger at her, squinting your eyes playfully. "You're gonna be praying for me to go easy on you next time, Hurst. A rematch is in order."
“You’ve got yourself a deal, Rusty. Wouldn't be much of a game anyway, right?" She firmly shook your hand in a truce before getting up from the spot beside you where she'd cozied up for the game, and walked off to join her friends at another table.
You rolled your eyes, not minding the nickname before turning your attention back to your own work — your unfinished Transfiguration chart. It was right around the moment Snape came gliding back into the hall, his dark robes bellowing and eyes immediately scanning the room like a kneazle eyeing a nest of mice, when you thankfully drifted back into the groove of your coursework. A few sharp rustlings of parchment behind you told you not everyone was so lucky to escape his eerily keen senses.
You kept your head low in focus, eyebrows knitted and occasionally twitching when you'd hit a particularly confusing section in the notes you'd hastily written during class.
It wasn't long before a presence slid in beside you, warm and unmistakeable, bumping her shoulder against yours. You flinched, immediately snapping your head toward whoever it was.
"Ginny!" you breathed, staring at her with a small, surprised smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "You scared me."
She chuckled, placing her Arithmancy book down on the table with a hard thud before flicking her gaze toward you with a grin. "Happy to see you too, Y/n."
"Hey, never said I wasn't," you laughed lightly, nudging her with your shoulder. "I missed you."
"I've missed you too. Harry's been keeping me a bit... busy," she explained, shrugging to try and play off the faint flush creeping up her cheeks. "It's exhausting keeping up with him, really."
You smirked, tilting your head to tease her. "I'm guessing you both have been getting it on..." you trailed, pausing long enough for her to look at you as if she'd been caught.
"Wh—"
"...Quite well?" you finished, snorting as she clamped her mouth shut.
She blinked, shaking her head as if the question were absurd. "Of course we are. How could we not?"
"We're not fifth-years anymore, Ginny. He's a total catch — I don't blame you," you reassured with a knowing wink.
"Not to mention he's The Chosen One," she added with a dramatic flourish. You both laughed, leaning into each other like you were sixteen again. It was a miracle Snape hadn't docked points from either of you at that point.
"So, what's been going on with you? Anything juicy I should know about?" she asked, twirling her wand casually in her fingers while she waited for your answer.
You frowned, looking off to the side in thought.
"Well, I did just have my—"
FWIP!
The abrupt feeling of your ledger being taken from under you caught you off guard. Turns out Snape wasn't the only one stalking between tables and snatching things from behind students' shoulders.
You whipped around just in time to see an obnoxious mop of ginger hair hurriedly retreating toward the exit, your ledger in his hand like a prize, probably screaming “Bloody Mary!"
Your eyes snapped around the room for Snape — eventually finding him back at his desk with his nose buried in a book. Figured why he didn't catch that boy.
Slowly, you turned your head back to Ginny, who looked just as unimpressed as you did.
"I tried to tell him, y/n," she reasoned, her voice comically sincere. "But the idiot wouldn't listen. Even when I bribed him, promising I wouldn't tell Mum about the detentions he'd gotten last week."
You bit your lip, pondering for a second, before straightening up and leaning toward Ginny. "You think Snape would notice if I...?" You motioned to the door with your head. Ginny immediately understood what you meant — and what was about to go down. Again. She had you and her older brother's bickering memorized like the back of her hand.
She leaned into you, her gaze scanning the room, that same mischievous spark you could never seem to escape from glinting in her eyes. "If you're stupidly quiet, I think you have a running shot."
"I'll take my chances," you whispered, cautiously slinging your legs over the bench. "I'm getting my ledger back."
"Give him a good one for me," Ginny encouraged, raising a silent fist. "He should seriously get off your back. It's been going on for how long now?"
"Too long. Wish me luck — I'll see you at lunch." You saluted her with two fingers, grabbing your essays before crouching low enough to weave between the tables, slipping out of the hall with your heart lodged in your throat.
Once all was clear, you stomped down the corridor, glaring ahead of you like you were staring down the ghost of him.
"Fred!" you called out, your frustrated voice echoing down the hallway, drawing the attention of a few scattered students.
"Where are you, you insufferable—" You paused, swallowing hard before any more profanities could spill out of you.
With your head on a swivel, you continued hunting for the six-foot-two, ginger lamppost.
It always started with a simple "Fred!"
But today, it was followed by a "Give me my ledger back, or I swear!"
And finally, when his silence made you snap — a heavy huff escaped your nose before "FRED FUCKING WEASLEY!" came barreling out of your mouth.
The infamous call of Hogwarts' morning bird. You.
A couple of first-years lining the hall who had witnessed the whole thing began to whisper among themselves, wagering bets on who would win today's "war," and what Fred Weasley had done to royally tick you off this time.
You stopped in front of the group and crossed your arms. Their whispers faded as they slowly turned their heads to look up at you. Unless Fred jumped out a window and magically survived, you were certain he'd gone this way — maybe even passing the same kids on his way down.
"I don't have time for games or questions — where is he?" you said, giving them a weary look.
One of the students pointed to the door of an empty classroom while the other mumbled the location nervously. Nodding in satisfaction, you took out your wand, charming a couple of sweets into your hand and passed it over with gentle pats on their heads.
"Neither of you repeat what I called Fred Weasley earlier, okay?" you whispered, earning a symphony of nods before heading straight for the room.
You swung the heavy door open, the sound of its rusty hinges bouncing off the stone wall, only to be met with the sight of a dusty, vacant space.
Bastard.
Peeping your head out the doorway, you saw a few more doors lining the hall like some twisted game show you never signed up for.
But to hell with it if it meant finding him. Merlin knows what he'd do with your ledger carrying a term's worth of revision material in it. The thought alone was enough to make you cry.
The next door you hurriedly pushed open revealed nothing, much to your disappointment. The next had other university students using it as a hangout spot, and the one after that was, to your surprise, a quaint little break room for the elf staff.
With each opened door, you grew more restless. Your arms began to strain from having to force open each heavy slab of wood, only to reveal anything and everything except for what you wanted.
The very last of the seemingly endless doors in the corridor sat nestled ominously in a dark corner. You doubted he was in there, but you were willing to bet on it — though you'd look pretty daft if he wasn't, having actually believed the words of a couple of eleven-year-olds.
You stood in front of the looming entrance, its wood withered and peeling, the metal bolts so old they'd spook anyone away.
Clutching the rolled-up parchment tightly in your hand, you pressed your palm against the surface and gave it a cautious push. The dim room made way to the sight of two figures, illuminated only by the late-morning sunlight streaming through cracked windows perched in the stone like gargoyles. The pair were lazing by a table in the center of the space, one leaning against it with an amused grin while the other seemed to be hunched over something — clearly invested, and very clearly reading a ledger. Your ledger.
George's eyes flicked to you immediately, but you were quicker — marching over to the slouched figure you clocked as Fred — and whacked the back of his head with your rolled-up essays before George could warn him.
You didn't give either of them a chance to speak, let alone react, as you skillfully snatched your ledger from the table and trudged out of the room without another word.
Before you could even make it five steps into the corridor, however, you were pulled back abruptly by your jumper, your back hitting the cool stone before you could yell out his name in protest.
He propped one arm over your head, leaning in close like this wasn't the most scandalous thing those poor first-years would ever get to see in their young lives. You glared up at him, more done with his antics than angry, which only served to stretch his already insufferable smirk wider.
"A right shame you had to come and take it back so soon, L/n. I was finally getting to the good part," he drawled, staring down at you.
Admittedly, having his gaze so intently locked on you made you feel warm in places you didn't even know could feel that way — but you couldn't afford to let your guard down. At least not right now.
You raised an eyebrow. "What're you playing at? Surely you enjoyed reading about Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration while my ledger was in your hands."
"Oh, life-changing," he said smoothly. "But what really caught my attention was that one passage about you going into the boys’ loo, and—"
You clapped a hand over his mouth, mortified before he could even finish the sentence. You were sure your face would be burning scarlet forever.
"How did you—" You stopped yourself, realizing just how loud you were being compared to Fred, if you could believe it.
Taking hold of his terribly done tie, you yanked him closer. You reeled at the feeling of him grinning right through your palm.
"You'd best keep your mouth shut, Weasley, because—"
"Fifty points from Gryffindor, Mister Weasley," McGonagall's chilling voice interrupted from behind Fred, causing you both to freeze. You even caught a glimpse of Fred's eyes widening the slightest bit before relaxing like nothing had happened.
The two of you, still frozen in place, slowly turned your heads to look at McGonagall.
"And fifty from your house as well, Miss L/n," she added, audibly disappointed, as if docking a hefty amount of points was just another ordinary Tuesday for her.
You squeezed your eyes shut, dropping your hand from Fred's mouth when it hit you just how "intimate" the two of you looked. You really couldn't blame anyone for misunderstanding.
"For university students — especially you, Miss L/n — I would have expected far better decorum. There are children wandering these halls, I hope you realize."
"This corridor's practically abandoned, Professor," Fred cut in, not looking the least bit ashamed. "Hardly anyone saw—"
"Another ten points. I don't entertain cock-and-bull excuses, Mister Weasley — as I believe you, of all students, given how long you've been here, should very well know."
Fred wisely shut his mouth and moved off you — but not completely. Just enough for you to see McGonagall properly, though you weren't sure if that made the situation better or worse. Her expression hovered somewhere near severe scorn and judgement, but pure disappointment easily took the lead.
"Professor, I—" you tried to reason, but just as you expected, she cut you off.
"What do you have to say for yourselves? And during school hours, no less? Mister Weasley, a letter will be sent to your mother for such... ludicrous behaviour. As will your own parents receive one, Miss L/n."
You frowned, a pit forming in your stomach causing you to subconsciously grab onto Fred's arms. "Sorry, professor. Lover's quarrel. You know how stubborn he can be."
McGonagall raised an eyebrow, eyeing the two of you sternly. "If I so much as see any more of this unseemly behaviour, it will be far worse than detention for the both of you."
"Yes, professor," you and Fred chorused.
She pursed her lips, giving you one last lingering look before walking off, her robes flowing dramatically behind her in usual McGonagall fashion.
The moment her footsteps faded, Fred turned his full attention back to you, casually leaning his arm against the stone and effectively trapping you between him and the wall again.
Even with her gone, you still couldn't relax.
"Hope you're bloody happy," you grumbled, dropping your hands from his sleeves and looking off to the side. You knew that if you saw his face right now, it would set you off by tenfold.
"Happy? I just lost my house sixty points, and she's about to write a letter to my Mum," he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm a dead man on the school papers by tomorrow. The least you can do is let me enjoy my final moments."
You looked up, only to find him smiling down at you, infuriatingly smug.
"You're actually unbelievable. How are you not petrified by what just happened?"
He snorted, leaning in just a fraction closer. The distance only levelled up his teasing, if that were even possible.
"You really think little ol' 'Gonagall's gonna be enough to scare me?"
You shrugged, pressing your back into the wall. "Yeah? She's literally Vice Headmistress, Fred. She could run us both out of the castle if she fancied."
He shook his head. "She wouldn't," he replied simply.
"She would. And I don't like how sure you sound."
"S'cause I am, darling."
"Honestly — push off, Weasley, or they'll think we actually like each other."
He raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "You rather I singe your eyebrows green then? Would that be convincing enough?"
You sighed, rolling your eyes. "You are a headache."
"A handsome one, mind you," he chirped, taking a strand of your hair, twirling it between his fingers and flicking it at your cheek, but you didn't so much as blink at him. "But tell me something, would you? I'm deadly curious now."
"Curious about what?" you snapped.
"Lover's quarrel, was it...?" he began, and you suddenly felt like merging into the wall behind you.
"Don't even—that was the only excuse I could think of, okay!" you defended, trying to act like the picture of composure. Though your flustered self told him otherwise.
He chuckled, low and genuinely amused. "Didn't take you for the type to think so far ahead. I haven't even taken you out to dinner yet."
You froze, furrowing your brows. "Are you threatening me?"
Summary: Fred's love language is physical touch and things and unexpected feelings surface when Luna points that out.
Word count: 3300 (went a little overboard for these shorts)
Masterlist, and other love language fanfictions: Acts of service
“Don’t you ever notice how Fred can’t keep his hands off of you?” Luna asks me. Another attempt to distract from the work in front of us. I don’t bother giving her an answer, “Luna, you’ve got to focus on these charms or else you won’t get a good grade tomorrow.”
“I don’t notice him doing it with anyone else.” She continues, completely ignoring me. If only someone told me at the beginning of the year that tutoring Luna would be this difficult. I say, “Luna, you are very very smart and you’re incredible when it comes to things like herbology or magical creatures, but you could be doing incredible in all your subjects if you would just-”
“There is my favourite lady!”
“Oh! Hi Fred.” I say, surprised, looking up seeing Fred grinning with his hand on my shoulder. He hops down on the couch and sits next to me, his arm fully around my shoulder now. Luna raises an eyebrow and looks at me with a soft but pointed smile. I suddenly feel very aware of every part of my body that is touching his.
“How does the fat lady feel about letting a Ravenclaw enter the lion’s common room?” Fred asks, looking at Luna, shuffling closer to me. Our legs and sides flushed together now. Luna replies, “Oh, she doesn’t mind at all. We sort of got a deal going.”
“What deal?” I ask, curious. Lifting Fred’s arm from over my shoulder and placing it on his lap as inconspicuously as I possibly can. Luna notices of course and purses her lips before saying, “I have the same deal with all the paintings but I’m afraid I can’t tell you. I was told that if you expose a deal then your head will start growing.”
“Okay then, we should get back to charms.” I say, leaning forward out of Fred’s touch to reach towards the table to get a textbook. I hope that Fred doesn’t notice that when I settle back down it's inches away from him. I never noticed how physically close Fred and I always are. Does it make people uncomfortable? Is it normal? And is he actually only like that with me like Luna says?
“Okay so at the rate we are moving at I think it would be best if we also did a quick morning revision-”
“Hey, are you okay?” Fred whispers in my ear. When he is this close I can’t help but notice all the freckles dotted on his cheeks and nose, does anyone else see these freckles the way I do? Ugh, it’s so stupid to even think about. I answer, quickly, maybe even a little bit too quickly. “Yeah, why?”
“No reason.”
***
Breakfast is always hectic at Hogwarts. People falling into their plates of cereal because of a lack of sleep, people earring at a speed that is definitely a choking hazard because they’re late for something, and some people, much like myself right now are cramming for an exam that is in a few minutes, except that it’s not my exam.
“Remember an invisibility enchantment depends on the type of object as well as the location of the object while a cloaking enchantment depends only on the type of the object.” I repeat out loud from the textbook while Luna eats some fruit rather quickly before the exam.
Despite her almost always calm demeanor I can tell that she’s feeling a little nervous about the exam, you always notice a little less twinkle in her eyes and a lot more fidgeting with her uniform or the long eccentric earrings. I reassure her, “You’re going to do great, okay? Flitwick’s exams are easy, make sure you keep your eye on the clock.”
“And remember, when in doubt pick B.” Fred pipes in from beside me just arriving at the Great Hall with George. George waves at me in greeting and sits opposite to me, beside Luna. Fred presses a kiss to my cheek whispering a good morning. He only waves at Luna, but I guess that’s only natural they’re not as close and Luna is much younger.
“What does that mean?” Luna asks Fred. He answers, “We’ve noticed that our dear Professor Flitwick tends to have the answer be B more often than not.”
“And how exactly are you sure of that?” I ask the twins and George answers this time. “We’ve tested it out, every year, Professor Flitwick does at least one multiple choice exam and one of us always picks B for all our answers blindly, and I don’t believe either of us has ever gotten a score less than 50% in any of those exams. Have we, Fred?”
“I don’t believe we have, George.” Fred replies after swallowing down what must be three strawberries at the same time. He moans in delight and raises one up for me, he says, “You have to try these, they’re so good.”
I feel the urge to eat it from his fingers but then I stop. Was I always so used to eating out of his hands? Isn’t that too intimate for just friends? I pluck it out of his fingers and eat it myself. I don’t miss the frown that quickly covers his face then leaves.
“What are we discussing this fine morning?” Angelina says, walking closer to where we are sitting and sits beside Fred. All of us wave at her as a good morning, including Fred. Now, Angie has been Fred’s friend for longer than I have and I would argue that they’re even closer than Fred and I, being on the Quidditch team together and everything, so why didn’t she get the greeting that I got?
“Just telling Luna about picking B on her charms exam.” George answers and Angie nods her head while filling up her plate with some bread and cheese. She says, “They’re absolutely wright about that theory, Luna. And you should also start picking D on McGonagall’s exams too.”
The twins nod along and I fea that Luna is taking their advice to ehart. I reach over the table and grab her hand in mine. I say, “Follow your gut, whether your gut tells you to pick B or any other letter. Now go, wouldn’t want you to be late.”
“Okay, thank you everyone. Thank you especially y/n.” She says, standing up swinging her decorated satchel over her shoulder. We all wish her luck and say goodbye. A few moments pass and I try to make it obvious that I’m sneaking glances at Fred. I wonder why he’s so close to me. Could it possibly be…no NO! No, no, no, no, no, no, not possible. We’ve been friends for years now. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, it could ruin the wonderful friendship that we’ve built. No, I’m just hallucinating, I’m letting what Luna said bother me, and it shouldn't. I have no proof, noooooo proof.
“Heyyyy, hey, love!” Fred says, waving his hand in front of my face. I only then notice that I’ve been openly staring at him with a look that can only be described as pure shock and horror. I look away immediately, my mouth turning into a line and my cheeks beet red. George narrows his eyes at me and I look away quickly.
Why am I acting so awkwardly? This is Fred, and Fred is my friend, unless…no. I’m not even going to entertain that thought, but suddenly, I can’t stand even being around Fred. My face is too red, and my palms are too sweaty and I think I’m actually more nervous than I was before NEWTs last year. I stand up abruptly, pushing the table slightly, and the cutlery smacks against each other creating a small ding.
“I’m going to go, I wouldn’t want to be late for class.” I explain, I reach out to grab my satchel from beneath the bench. Fred reaches out and steadies me with my hand. He says, “Class isn’t for another twenty minutes. You have plenty of time.”
“My class is different.” Different, different, everything is so different now. My stomach lurches at the contact of our hands, and when did he even interlace our fingers, has it always been this way? Has he always been this affectionate? And why just with me?
I leave the Great Hall in a flash. My sneakers squeaking at my quick steps. I could faintly hear Fred say to Angie in confusion, ‘We have the same class.’ I only stop the manic walking once I’m far away enough to catch my breath and sag against my wall. I would be embarrassed about the way I was acting if I could stop having a heart attack. Why does this matter so much?
“So you know.”
My head snaps to the back to George standing there with a smug look on his face, and his arms folded in front of his chest. I turn around to face him, adjusting the strap of my bag on my shoulder. “Know what?”
“Ohhh, don’t play dumb with me. I could tell.” George says, rolling his eyes ever so slightly. I mirror his stance and fold my arms too. I’m not sure I know anything but charms at this moment. I certainly don’t know anything about anything that George specifically would want me to know, and certainly nothing about his other half.
“You finally figured out that Fred is miserably in love with you.” He finally admits, and I suck in a deep breath and the confession. Hearing the idea out loud puts a knot in my throat. I shake my head furiously and tighten the fold of my arms, only shuffling slightly on my feet. I say, “He’s not, he can’t, he…he wouldn’t want you saying this to me when it’s not true.”
George gives me a look, his arms falling to his sides. I may not know George as well as I know Fred but I know enough, I know that look enough to know that he’s saying the truth. I huff a deep breath. How can things change so quickly? I take a few steps to my left and sag against a wall. I’m glad everyone is inside so that they won’t witness this life changing moment of mine.
George leans against the wall beside me. I can see the way his eyebrows furrow. What’s going to happen now? It can’t go back to the way it was, I can’t ignore the fact that my best friend likes me, or according to George, loves me. He questions, “It can’t be that bad, can it?”
“It’s just so different now.” I say, and I slide down the wall, all the way to the floor ignoring all the dirt that must be on these floors and the way the fabric of my robe bunches up behind me ever so slightly. George says, “It doesn’t have to be.”
“It all depends on if you like him back.” He adds. I don’t think I can give him an answer if I tried. I don’t think I’ve ever liked anyone before. I don’t know. I turn my head to the other side. I scoff, “You know I’m not good at this stuff George.”
“Trust me, I know.” He teases shoving my shoulder playfully. He says probably recalling the Yule Ball when I spent the entire night by their sides because I had failed to get a date, not because of lack of offers but due to lack of me accepting anyone, I was too busy, stuttering and tripping over my feet.
“I think you should do what you do best, try to understand it, use facts, maybe even use those lists you like.” He suggests, and I give him a small smile. Maybe I should figure out if I like Fred frist before rejecting even the thought of his feelings. I lean my head against the wall, close my eyes and try to think-
“What are you both doing here?”
I see Fred jogging up from the Great Hall, he has a wide beaming smile on his face. I sit up straight and George clears his throat before saying, “Just chatting.”
Fred pretends to check an invisible watch on his wrist that he would have if he cared about being on time for anything. He reaches out his hand for me to take, saying, “I think you’re actually going to be late for class now.”
I slip my hand into his, and he pulls me up in one quick swift motion, a little bit too swift that I clash into his chest a little. I wonder if he feels the same twists that my stomach makes. I tease, “As if you care about that stuff.”
He shrugs his shoulders and says as if it’s obvious, “You do.”
***
I’ve never been much of a person that enjoys Quidditch. I never really enjoyed watching sports and dressing all up in my house colors and cheering the team on while I’m shoved in between two other gryffindors screaming around me. I do make exceptions, and those are the times when Fred and George are playing.
“WHOOOOO!!! GO GRYFFINDOR, GO FRED! GO GEORGE!” I shout over the crowd and clap my hands hard together, exactly like a sports lover. Hermione sits next to me, clapping but much more gently. Gryffindor are just about to win, only one more goal left to score, or Potter could catch the snitch.
“HARRY POTTER CATCHES THE SNITCH!” Lee shouts from the commentator’s booth. And the Gryffindor team all start high-fiving each other on their brooms. In a whirl of adrenaline and excitement Ron hugs Hermione, and they both proceed to pat each other on the back gently with their cheeks red when they part.
I see Fred flying over to the stands where I’m sitting. Eyes skimming the crowd until they land on me. His face is red and there are droplets of sweat on his forehead with his hairline just a bit damp. He’s holding his beater’s club in one hand and holding onto the broom with the other. He shouts, “Come on! Let’s celebrate.”
“I’ll meet you down.” I reply, trying to make it through the people in the stands to meet him down at the pitch. He shakes his head and draws closer, careful not to hit anyone with his broom or his feet. He pulls out a hand, and instinctively, I take it. He says, “There’s no time for that.”
Before I can process what that meant, I’m pulled upwards towards him. I let out a scream as he held me up with his hands. He places me in front of him, and he starts to fly down. I’ve never been a fan of flying. I shout, “FRED! You idiot, get me down. NOW!”
People shout congratulations to him as he flies over the crowd and as we land on the ground. As soon as my feet touch the pitch’s grass, I turn around and start smacking Fred’s shoulders. I scream between punches, “I-hate-you.”
He only grins in return. He throws his broom and the beater’s club to the side. He pulls me closer to him and pulls me into a hug. I wrap my arms around his back and he wraps his around my waist. He leans back, lifting my feet off the ground for a second then placing me back on the ground. And then he looks into my eyes, and my stomach flips, has he always looked at me like that? With that glimmer in his eyes? Have I always been this blind?
He lets go of one hand around my waist, as Lee comes from behind him and slaps his back in congratulations. The grin is wide on his face as members of the team come to celebrate one by one. Alicia, Angie, Potter, Hermione…and others. He high-fives them, some of them receive nods of appreciation but everyone gets that brilliant smile as his hand stays on my lower back.
They all head out of the pitch to shower and change their clothes and to no doubt get ready for a party in the common room. It’s only us and a few other people when I notice, and then have to ask. I squeeze his hand to grab his attention and say, “Hey Fred, why did you only hug me?”
He doesn’t expect the question. He looks around us, eyes wondering fumbling for a response, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He says, “You’re my friend.”
“I mean, why did you only hug me? You didn’t hug any of your other friends like Angie or Lee.” I push, and I can see his cheeks getting red again this time not from the physical exhaustion of the game. He blinks a few times before saying, “You’re just different.”
My stomach flips again, and I just know that it’ll mean something if he says it. I ask, “Different how?”
His shoulders fall and he sucks in a deep breath. His mouth left open slightly and I look at him waiting for an answer. I’m so anxious I could break out into a sweat just from the expectation. His eyes turn helpless like he doesn’t know what to say. I add, “Do you like me, Fred?”
His eyes turn wide just ever so slightly, and he drops his hand from my side, lifting it up, to run his hand through his hair. The sweat made it cling to the rest of his hair, away from his forehead. I feel butterflies when he says, “Yes.”
The way he said it, so definitive, and so completely obvious like he’s never been sure of anything more in his life makes me feel sick. I have no idea if I want to throw up or if I want to throw my arms around him and pull him closer. ‘I think you should do what you do best, try to understand it.’ I recall George’s words.
The words come tumbling out of my mouth before I can think about them, “I’ve never been good at this kind of stuff, Fred. I don’t know if I’ve ever liked anyone, and I don’t really understand feelings that well, but I’m going to try to. I think I need time to figure it out, all I know is that I like spending time with you and most times I only want to be around you. That I trust you and that you’re my friend.”
I wish I could make out the look in his eyes, but I continue, “I sometimes get jealous when you and Angie talk about Quidditch and I can’t join in. And that…being with you scares me, but, I don’t know anyone else I’d want to spend my time with. I like how it feels when you’re around and when you’re touching me. And…I really want to kiss you.”
Fred doesn’t waste a second before he eliminates the space between us in a single step. Taking all the air from the world, and tipping me only a few centimetres back, placing his lips to mine. I have no idea where to put my hands, but Fred knows, and he slides his hand over my arm and guides my hands to his shoulders.
I can’t breathe but somehow it would be worse if I pulled away from the kiss as if he was breathing air into me. My chest heaves as Fred pulls away. My eyes are wide and I can’t stop looking at him. I wonder if anyone’s ever seen his freckles the way I am seeing them right now. I ask, “Will you give me time to figure out my feelings?”
“I’ll give you all the time in the world if you’d ask.”
0.8 k
Summary:
You and Hermione start a silly “Hear Me Out Cake” game in the Great Hall, confessing ridiculous crushes. Soon, every girl joins in, while the boys secretly eavesdrop and lose their minds.
Warning:
⚠️ Contains uncontrollable laughter, chaotic confessions, dramatic boys, and the possible emotional scarring of certain Slytherins. Read at your own risk.
navigation || main masterlist
It all started on one particularly dreary Saturday morning in the Great Hall. Rain lashed against the enchanted ceiling, thunder grumbled in the distance, and Hermione Granger had just slammed her Arithmancy book shut with a noise that made the Ravenclaws twitch.
“I’m bored,” she announced, scandalously. Hermione. Bored. That alone was headline-worthy.
You looked up from your plate of toast and gave her a sly grin. “Well, we could… create a game.”
Hermione narrowed her eyes. “A game that’s not completely ridiculous?”
“No promises,” you said, leaning in conspiratorially. “How about… a Hear Me Out Cake?”
Hermione tilted her head. “I’m listening…”
“We bake a cake,” you explained, “and each slice comes with a confession—like who you have a crush on and the most diabolically unhinged reason why. Nothing serious. Pure chaos.”
For a moment, you thought Hermione would lecture you about dignity and the sanctity of baked goods. But to your astonishment, her lips curved into a slow grin. “Fine. But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly. With frosting.”
The two of you commandeered a table at the end of the Gryffindor section. Someone (probably you) dragged in a mixing bowl from the kitchens, and Hermione scribbled rules on a scrap of parchment. A few curious heads turned.
“What are you two doing?” Ginny Weasley asked, plopping herself down.
“Creating a cake that will alter the very fabric of Hogwarts history,” you said grandly.
Ginny blinked. “So… pudding with extra steps?”
“Basically,” Hermione admitted.
Of course, once Ginny sat down, Luna drifted over, humming about wrackspurts being attracted to butter. Soon after, Parvati and Lavender joined, giggling in that we-know-trouble-is-coming way. Before long, you had a full coven of conspirators.
The rules were simple:
Take a slice.
Confess your crush.
Add the most deranged reason why.
Hermione, being Hermione, volunteered to go first. She cleared her throat primly.
“Fine. Hear me out: Viktor Krum.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Predictable.”
“Wait for it,” Hermione said, adjusting her prefect badge. “Because he has the stamina of an international Quidditch player. And—” she smirked, “—he never interrupts me when I’m reading.”
The table exploded into shrieks and laughter. Across the hall, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and half the Gryffindor boys froze mid-bite, eyes narrowing like guard dogs who’d just heard the word intruder.
You took your slice next, grinning like the menace you were. “Alright, hear me out: Draco Malfoy.”
Every girl gasped. Even Hermione’s eyebrows shot up.
“Yes, him,” you continued, ignoring Ginny’s scandalized squeak. “Because he has hair shinier than a unicorn’s backside, and I’m convinced if I stared long enough, I could use it as a mirror during exams.”
Lavender fell off her bench laughing. Unfortunately, at the Slytherin table, Draco himself had choked on his pumpkin juice, while his cronies thumped his back.
“WHAT ARE YOU ALL CACKLING ABOUT?” Draco demanded. Nobody answered.
Soon, it snowballed. Pansy declared her crush on Blaise Zabini “because he looks like he could financially ruin me and I’d say thank you.”
Parvati picked Cedric Diggory “because his jawline could probably cut cheese.”
Luna picked Neville, loudly, “because he’s the only one who’d actually water my plants and not kill them.”
By then, it wasn’t just Gryffindor girls anymore. Ravenclaw girls sidled over, then Hufflepuffs, until half the female population of Hogwarts was gathered around the “Hear Me Out Cake.”
And the boys? Oh, the boys were a mess.
Every few seconds, one of them would attempt subtle eavesdropping. Ron was leaning so far back in his chair he nearly toppled over. Harry pretended to tie his shoelace for ten minutes straight under your table. Over at Slytherin, Theodore Nott was practically crawling across the floor to hear better.
Each new confession made the boys bristle. When Cho dreamily announced she fancied Harry “because his hair looks like it’s in constant communication with the moon tides”, Harry went pink down to his collar. When a Hufflepuff girl admitted she liked Ron “because he’s tall enough to reach the snacks on the top shelf”, Ron sat bolt upright, trying and failing to look casual.
And when a Ravenclaw declared her crush on George Weasley “because I’m convinced he’d help me rob Gringotts for fun”, Fred and George nearly launched themselves across the table to confirm which twin she meant.
By this point, the “game” had become a full-blown schoolwide event. The cake was gone, but confessions kept coming, echoing through the Great Hall. Boys muttered darkly, girls cackled wildly, and the professors had long since given up on restoring order.
At one point, Draco stalked over, pale and furious. “WHO said they fancied me for my HAIR?” he demanded, glaring at every girl in a ten-foot radius.
You raised your hand serenely. “That would be me. Don’t worry, Malfoy, I only want to use it as an exam accessory.”
The look on his face was worth every detention Snape would eventually give you.
(*˘︶˘*).｡*♡
a/n : ⚞ this was js a funny drabble I had planned out , like umm help guys our geo viva is going on and like instead of revising im writting this , whish me luck my turn's about to come ⚟
|an: i missed writing lol and it’s hp season so i wanted to write for my man crush 4L since nobody writes enough abt him smh. also listened to what you need by the weeknd while writing this.
feel free to send me any ron or fred asks!
pure smut btw!
|w.c 1.1k
you’d been spending the last few weeks of summer at the burrow with the weasleys, just as tradition called for. except this year, you and ron had made things official between the two of you. ronald had always been your kryptonite. his pouty, pink lips, button nose, bright blue eyes, toned biceps, and thick thighs. now he was finally yours, yours to kiss, to hold, to fuck. to make feel good.
you were so worked up from earlier. watching ron and his older brothers joking around together, roughhousing around the burrow in his white wife beater and low-hung plaid pajama bottoms. all you could think about was how badly you wanted to rip them off of him. you felt yourself getting wetter and hotter as you watched him shove fred for a joke he had made about his love for his favorite quidditch team.
ron had gotten so muscly this year; you wanted so badly to feel him roughhouse you, to throw you around, to overpower you with his strength as he pleasured you and—
“what are you so deep in thought about, hm?” fred said as he collapsed on the couch next to you.
“oh... nothing. where’s ron?” you'd said as you clenched your thighs together, upset as you noticed his presence was no longer there, no longer around for you to gawk at.
“your boyfriend went upstairs to get ready for bed, i reckon. it’s getting late; you might want to start heading up there too, don’t you think?” the older brother whispered in your ear; without hesitation, you stood up and made your way into ron’s room, knowing exactly what you wanted, what you needed.
opening his door, you found ron sat on his bed, back against the headboard, tinkering with a trinket his brothers had given to him. you make eye contact as you swiftly shut the door behind you and make your way to your boyfriend.
you reckon he’s felt the same way today too, as no words are exchanged between the two of you, yet the sexual tension hangs thick over the room. he looks up at you with those big, blue eyes, and you can feel the pulse of your heat as you grab his trinket from his hands and place it on his bedside table.
he knows; he knows exactly what you want, what you need. he’s never done it before, but he’s never wanted to pleasure you so badly before. you look so sexy in your white, lacy tank top that hugs your curves in all the right ways and accentuates your breasts, the way your sleep shorts fit perfectly on your waist, the way that your long hair runs down your back, and the way that your skin glows with lust. lips pink and bitten raw and eyes lidded low, pupils dilated with want.
you pull one leg over his lap and straddle him as he wastes no time placing his hands on your hips to guide you there. you greet him with a warm, wet, and passionate kiss, pressing your hot pussy down onto his semi-hard cock.
he can feel the pulse of your pussy through your thin sleep shorts on his dick, groaning at the sensation. he realizes how worked up his poor girl has been all day; he knows exactly what his baby needs from him.
you whimper and rut your clit against his hard cock as his large, calloused hands roam your hot body. he places his hand at the small of your back and flips the two of you over with your back against the mattress.
“is this what you wanted, my love?” he says as he lowers himself face to face with your clothed cunt.
you look down at him and nod slowly as you abuse your bottom lip with your teeth. ron understands how long you must’ve been waiting for this to be so dumb off the few moments of friction you shared.
ron wastes no time sliding your shorts and panties off of your body in one fluid motion. you felt his large, calloused hands on your warm, sticky thighs, spreading your legs apart as he stared at your bare, wet pussy from between your legs with wide eyes.
oh fuck
he has no idea how to do this.
“baby, do you need help?” you ask, staring down at him into his eyes as he slowly nods; he’s gotten shy and a little embarrassed that he took it this far without knowing what to do. but you feel the opposite; as a matter of fact, it kinda turns you on even more.
“don’t feel embarrassed, my love; just start with small licks, yeah? can you do that for me, ron?” you said to him, the tone of your voice, and the affection laced within your words makes his cock leak with anticipation as he begins to do exactly what you told him to.
you feel ron’s warm, wet tongue softly lick a stripe along your clit, the feeling sending fireworks through your abdomen. you whimper as you throw your head back while he continues to lap at your clit with small, unsure motions.
you grip his head of hair, letting him know he’s doing everything right, encouraging him to venture out on his own and begin letting your moans dictate the way his tongue moves against your aching pussy.
his tongue works magic on your pussy as he flattens his tongue out more, licking longer stripes along your folds and sucking on your clit as he reaches the top, his spit mixing with your juices and coating his chin as he sucks and laps at your cunt.
it’s all too much as he messily and hungrily eats your pussy, the feeling of the wetness he created dripping down your cunt and thighs, the sounds of him slurping away at your clit, and the eye contact he’s making with you as he does so.
“ron, i can’t—i’m gonna cum. oh fuck,” you whisper shakily as you bite your bottom lip raw from muffling your own moans. one of your legs locking up and shaking from their position that he keeps them held up in the air.
without words, he takes it upon himself to lap at just your clit in a rapid, continuous motion that he thinks you seemingly enjoyed the most. this sends you over the edge completely. gripping at his hair tightly as you throw your head back into his pillow once more.
assuming you’ve finished, by the way, your limbs went limp, he placed a final, lasting kiss on your clit before finding his way back up to face you as he placed another kiss on your warm, red lips.
“did i do well?” he asked boastfully, a grin plastered across his face, assuming he already knows the answer to this question due to the state you’re in.
“mhmm…” was all you could muster up, as the kiss was all you needed to drift off into a satisfied sleep in your boyfriend's arms.
Warnings: brief alcohol consumption, sexual innuendos, oral sex [female receiving]
Summary: A Ravenclaw prefect catches Fred's eye, but she's not as easy to seduce as he had thought (slow burn, jealous ex, jealous Fred)
----
You stepped into the courtyard with your friends, taking in the autumn air. The leaves were finally turning the burning red color that you loved so much. It reminded you of someone.
"Hey, are you even listening?" Cho asked, nudging your arm. You had drifted off into your own thoughts while admiring the scenery.
"Of course, of course. You were talking about your Herbology exam," you replied, linking arms with Cho. She frequently complained about your "dreamy" tendencies, scolding you for having a wandering imagination.
Your group continued through the courtyard, almost making it across to the next set of doors until a roar of laughter rippled through the students dotted around the courtyard. You turned to the commotion, finding the Weasley twins huddled around something on the ground.
As a prefect, it was your job to investigate things like this. And knowing the Weasley twins, it was best to interrupt whatever prank they had going on.
The boys heard the clacking of your Oxford shoes on the stone path, turning to you as you approached. Both wore their usual grins, full of mischief and pleasure in whatever they had just done. You looked to the ground, finding a pale blond ferret on the stones by their feet.
"Now, what are you two up to?" you asked, crossing your arms in an attempt to appear intimidating.
This only caused Fred's grin to widen. "We just thought that Hogwarts could use a new pet."
"And who exactly is this pet?" you asked, bending down to pick up the ferret. It looked up at you, and you noticed that it had remarkably blue eyes.
"I think we should call him Mal-ferret. He makes a bloody cute critter, doesn't he?" George replied, tickling at the ferret in your hands.
You gasped, realizing who was in your hands. Draco Malfoy.
"You turned Malfoy into a ferret?! Are you bloody insane?" you asked, your voice raising in frustration and disbelief.
The boys only chuckled at your reaction, clearly enjoying their prank.
"Turn him back right this instant!" you demanded, placing Malfoy back onto the ground. "Don't make me get Snape, you gits!"
Fred grumbled, the smirk still playing at his lips. He loved when you got angry. And when you bossed him around.
George pulled out his wand and mumbled a spell, turning the ferret back into a human. Slowly Malfoy's features returned as he grew back to his normal size.
"I'm telling my father about this!" he fumed, staring up at Fred. The ginger towered over him, making Draco's threats rather ineffective.
Malfoy stormed off into the castle as the students in the courtyard laughed. The twins laughed along with them, still very pleased with themselves.
"When will you two learn..." you shook your head at them, taking out your notebook. "That's 20 points from Gryffindor."
Fred exhaled, reaching for your elbow as you recorded the point deduction in your notebook.
"Come on, little bird. You don't have to be that harsh," he said, his voice sounding like honey as he tried to convince you to change your mind.
You looked up at him, being sure to make direct eye contact. "Flirting with me won't change your fate, Weasley."
George chuckled behind him, and Fred's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He straightened his shoulders, preparing to respond.
Fred leaned in, his nose almost brushing your ear. "If I were trying to flirt with you, darling, it would be a bit more obvious," he said, his voice low.
His breath tickled your neck, causing goosebumps to form. Your words caught in your throat and you almost choked. Heat rose in your cheeks, and you balled your fists in an attempt to regain control.
"You don't have an effect on me, pretty boy," you replied, spitting out the last two words. Your eyes locked, and you glared at him. Your heart began to pound as you held eye contact. His perfect hazel eyes bore into yours, the corners of his mouth turned up into a grin. The look in his eyes was almost...lustful.
Your jaw locked as your stubbornness kicked in. He was not going to win this.
Fred took a step back, his hand reaching for the end of your braid and twirling it. "I'll see you at the Quidditch match tomorrow, birdie."
His sickening smile remained on his lips as he turned to George, walking back toward the castle doors. You let out a breath and hustled over to your own group of friends.
It was too late for you. Fred had noticed the color in your cheeks. The way you were fighting for control. It was in that moment that he knew he had to have you.
Fred had always liked you. You had several classes together over the years, and you were kind to him and his brother. You tutored him in Potions during third year, and you weren't as stuck-up as your fellow Ravenclaws.
There was something so tempting about you. Your "good girl" persona mixed with your unshakable attitude. It was like a drug to Fred, and now that he knew that he could make you weak in the knees, he was going to exploit it.
By the time you made it across the courtyard to your friends, your entire face was bright red. "Let's go inside," you insisted, hurrying out the words as you pushed towards the doors.
You had barely made it inside before your friends were asking questions.
"What happened?" Cho asked, sounding genuinely confused. "The way Fred was looking at you was...intense."
You ran your hands through your hair, trying to calm yourself. You had always thought that Fred was cute, but his reputation as a player had kept you away. You'd talked to him before in passing, but never like this. It was an adrenaline rush to stand your ground against him. Holding power over him felt...addicting.
"The twins just...they were just being gits. And Fred is always...you know Fred. He's defiant," you replied, your sentences smashing together as you attempted to compose yourself.
"Hey, are you okay?" Cho asked, running a hand down your arm.
"Yeah, just...didn't expect Fred to talk back to me. It's not usually that difficult to take House points away," you said, attempting to explain away why you were so flustered.
"But the way that he was looking at you..." Beatrice chimed in. "He looked....I don't know. I've never seen him like that."
"He's just being Fred," you said, trying to dismiss it. "Let's go to the library, I have mountains of homework."
Your group headed towards the library, finding your usual table and settling in. You tried to work on an essay for Muggle Studies, but you couldn't focus. Your thoughts kept wandering back to Fred and his hazel eyes burning into yours. The way his breath felt on your neck. His fingers twirling your hair.
You tried to snap yourself out of it. You knew that Fred was a flirt. He had quite the reputation with the girls at Hogwarts, and he did not have a hard time finding a date. He was probably just messing with you. It was nothing, and you scolded yourself for replaying the scene in your head over and over again.
----
Fred and George were lounging in the Common Room, finding anything to do instead of their homework. Fred was sketching in his sketchbook while George conjured and disintegrated flowers over and over again.
"What was your deal earlier today with that prefect?" George blurted out, breaking the silence in the room.
Fred turned to him. "What do you mean?" he asked, acting confused.
"You know exactly what I mean, you git. You were toying with her," George said, disintegrating another clump of flowers with his wand.
"I wasn't toying with her," Fred said, seeming defensive. "I just...wanted to see if she would actually take the points away."
"Sureeeeeeeeeeee...." George replied, obviously doubtful. "You were flirting with her. In front of the whole courtyard, mind you."
"That was not flirting," Fred scoffed, focused on his sketchbook.
"What are you drawing?" George asked, getting up from his place on the couch to look at Fred's sketchbook.
"Nothing," Fred said, holding the sketchbook tight to his chest. "It's none of your business."
"Oh come on, Fred. Get off it. Show me the bloody sketch," George said, holding out his hand for the sketchbook.
Fred huffed, reluctantly handing it over. George took hold of the sketchbook, turning it so he could see the sketch. On the paper was a replica of your face. Fred had perfectly mimicked the stubborn fire behind your eyes.
"Oh, so you obviously don't fancy her," George mocked, still staring at the sketch.
"I never said that I didn't fancy her," Fred said. "I only said that I wasn't flirting with her."
"Where is this even coming from in the first place?" George asked. "We've known her for years and you just now fancy her?"
Fred shrugged. "I've always thought she was nice. Not as insufferable as some of those other Ravenclaws. But...I don't know. Something is different now. She isn't falling over herself for my attention."
"Oh, so you like her because she's a challenge?" George replied, his voice mocking. "That's endearing."
"Shut it, you prat. I can't explain it. She's just different. She's confident, and she's smart, and she doesn't back down. Most of the girls at Hogwarts aren't like that," Fred explained.
"The only girl here who knows how to talk back is Ang, but she's mine," George chuckled. "Interesting that we both like a strong-willed girl. Must be a twin thing."
Fred socked his twin in the arm, taking his sketchbook back. "You're being an arse."
"Never thought you'd fancy a Ravenclaw. They seem a bit too bookish for you. And how do you even know she fancies you too?" George rambled.
"I'm not sure if she does, but I can change that," Fred said, a smirk crossing his features. "I'm going to get her to come to the match this weekend. She'll be mine before the weekend is over, you'll see."
----
Students were buzzing at breakfast on Saturday morning. It was the day of the big Gryffindor vs. Slytherin quidditch match, and everyone was nervous with anticipation for the face-off. You were somewhat indifferent to quidditch, but you usually went with your friends for something to do on a Saturday afternoon. It gave you a break from doing homework in the library.
You had just taken another bite of toast when someone tapped on your shoulder. You put the toast on your plate, turning around in confusion. Standing behind you was none other than Fred Weasley. A grin was on his lips and his hands were behind his back.
"Yes, Weasley?" you said, slight irritation lacing your voice. You had finally gotten him to stay out of your thoughts, and now here he was again.
"I wanted to make sure that you're coming to the match today," he said, a certain sweetness in his voice. "And I wanted to give you this."
Fred pulled a scarf out from behind his back. It was his Gryffindor scarf, adorned with his house colors, crest, and initials. You stared at it in disbelief as it hung from his hands in front of you.
"Uhm...okay," you replied, sheepishly taking the scarf from him. A blush was starting to form on your cheeks. This was quite the unexpected move from Fred.
"If you're going to cheer for me, you need to be wearing my colors," he said, giving you a wink. This did nothing to calm the redness of your cheeks. You racked your brain for a snide remark to shoot back at him.
"I don't know what you're playing at, Weasley, but if this is you trying to mark your territory, I don't want it," you said, finally regaining your resolve.
His eyes softened, making your stomach flutter. Damn it.
"I'm not marking my territory, birdie. I just wanted a pretty girl to have my scarf. You're my lucky charm today," he replied, cocking his head to the side in a way that gave him a boyish vibe.
You huffed in response, reluctant to accept his answer. Before you could make another snappy reply, Fred leaned in to whisper in your ear.
"I don't mark my territory with a scarf, darling," he whispered, his voice low enough to give you chills. "I can show you later if you'd like."
You swallowed hard, clenching your jaw. You were not going to let Fred Weasley know that he could make you flustered. He can make any girl at Hogwarts swoon, but you were determined to not be one of them.
Fred backed away, a devious smirk on his lips. "I'll see you in the stands, birdie."
Fred left the Great Hall as if nothing had happened. You sat there trying to catch your breath, irritated at him for getting you so wound up. He was infuriating. But for some reason, you liked it.
----
You settled into the stands with Cho and Beatrice. Fred's scarf was in your backpack, and you were still debating on whether or not to wear it.
"Come on, just put it on! It's cute that he gave you his scarf," Beatrice said, nudging your shoulder with hers. "Fred is adorable. All of the other girls are going to be jealous."
"Bea, Fred is a troublemaker," Cho replied. "He doesn't have the best reputation, and I wouldn't want to get mixed up in that if it were me. Wearing that scarf is just going to bring unwanted attention."
You had been stewing over this ever since breakfast. Now you knew that Fred's flirting wasn't just your overactive imagination or wishful thinking. It was real. You had to decide what to do, and you weren't quite sure of his intentions.
"Wait, I have an idea," you blurted out, getting up from the stands before Beatrice or Cho could reply.
Your feet carried you to a place that you had been many, many times before. The Slytherin quidditch team's locker room.
You had dated Adrian Pucey for most of last year, and you used the locker room as a place to hook up after hours. The breakup was relatively amicable. Adrian wanted to get more serious, and you were too focused on passing your O.W.L.s. You parted ways on good terms, but you knew he would be willing to get back together if you asked.
You knocked on the locker room door, and Draco was the one to answer.
"Yes?" he asked, half-dressed in his uniform.
"Can you get Adrian for me?" you asked, crossing your arms as you leaned against the door frame.
Draco shut the door. It opened a few moments later, but this time it was Adrian.
"Hey," he said, taking in your figure in the doorway. He always looked at you like that. A mix of lust and admiration. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah," you replied, inching closer to him. "Can I ask a favor?"
"Of course, love," he said, his eyes soft as he looked at you.
Part of you felt guilty for this. Toying with Adrian was totally unnecessary, but you wanted to get under Fred's skin in the same way that he got under yours.
"Can I wear your scarf today?" you asked sweetly. "For old time's sake? And for good luck. I'm rooting for you."
"Anything for you," he replied. "I'll be back with it in a moment."
You huffed a sigh of relief as he turned back into the locker room to fetch the scarf. You had worn it to all of his matches last year, cheering for him from the stands even though you didn't understand all of the rules of quidditch.
Adrian returned to the door with his scarf, handing it to you.
"Thank you," you said. "I'll give it back after the match. You're going to be great."
You leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. He smiled at you in the same way that he always had. It made your heart hurt in a way, but you were motivated by vengeance.
You made your way back up into the stands to sit with Beatrice and Cho. You sat down, weaving Adrian's scarf around your neck.
Beatrice gasped. "You're a masher! Adrian's scarf!?"
You smirked, pleased with yourself. "Adrian and I are still friends. He deserves to win today."
Cho groaned. "You're digging your own grave. Fred is going to be insufferable when he sees you. And leading Adrian on? That's just dodgy."
"I'm not leading him on," you said, feeling defensive. "I just asked to wear his scarf for good luck. I didn't promise that we were getting back together."
"Whatever," Cho replied. "You're making your own mess."
The conversation came to an end as both teams entered the pitch. The crowd cheered as the players lined up on opposite sides of the pitch, awaiting their introductions.
As the announcers began, Adrian's eyes found yours. You shot him a thumbs up, and he nodded at you with a small smile on his face. It was just like old times, and a pang of sadness shot through you.
From the moment that he stepped onto the pitch, Fred immediately clocked the scarf that you were wearing. The silver and green. Slytherin crest. The "AP" stitched onto the bottom of it near the fringe. He felt like his blood was boiling.
He watched the interaction between you and Adrian, noticing the way that Adrian looked at you. You still had Adrian wrapped around your finger, and that pissed Fred off. He loved competition, but he loved winning even more.
You finally dared to look at Fred and instantly regretted it. His jaw was locked in anger, and his eyes were burning into yours. Your stomach dropped for a moment, taking away the feeling of victory you had. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.
Before you could process the wave of emotions hitting you, the match had begun. You watched in anticipation, as Fred was now more determined than ever to bring home a win for Gryffindor.
You chattered with Cho and Beatrice to try to calm your thoughts. What was Fred going to say to you after the match? You were wringing your hands in nervousness, dreading the interaction that you knew was going to come later.
The crowd erupted into cheers as the announcer declared that Gryffindor had caught the Golden Snitch. You were on your feet in seconds, watching the Gryffindor team fly to the ground and pile onto each other in celebration.
You felt like the wind was knocked out of you. You were sure that Slytherin was going to win. Everyone was predicting that. This victory was unexpected, and you knew that it would give Fred another reason to gloat.
The teams lined up to congratulate each other, a practice that was required by the school because of past instances of bad sportsmanship between the teams. They high-fived each other, muttering "good game" before moving on to the next player.
Fred had finally reached Adrian. "Good game, Weasley," Adrian conceded through tight lips.
"Thanks Pucey," Fred replied, slapping Adrian's hand in a somewhat friendly high-five. "Is that your girl up there?"
Fred nodded to where you were standing with Beatrice and Cho in the crowd. Adrian's scarf was still wound around your neck, and you were playing with the fringe on the ends.
"Um....not anymore," Adrian admitted.
You were watching Fred and Adrian from your place in the stands. Seeing them converse made you feel uneasy. Especially when Fred began smirking. The look on his face was nothing short of diabolical.
"That's too bad," Fred said. "She looks cracking in that scarf. But I think she'd look even better with my hands around her neck."
You couldn't make out what they were saying, but the next thing you knew, Adrian's fist was connecting with Fred's face. It took only seconds for the other players to begin hollering and beating on each other.
The professors hurried into action, herding the spectating students toward the castle and attempting to break apart the fighting players. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Why would Adrian hit Fred?
The more you thought about it, the more you were able to paint a picture of what likely had happened. Fred has a smart mouth, and Adrian has a quick temper. It's a lethal combination.
----
You were stood in front of your mirror, fiddling with the skirt that Beatrice had lent you. She insisted on going to the Gryffindor victory party tonight. She had her eye on Oliver Wood, and she refused to go alone.
Parties weren't usually your scene. You had gone to a couple of Slytherin parties last year, but you hadn't stayed for long. You were usually only there long enough to take a few shots of firewhiskey, talk to friends, and would leave with Adrian to hook up.
Because of this, your wardrobe was not fit for a Gryffindor victory party. Some girls showed up in not much more than a bra and short skirt, while others opted for tying up their uniform tops and jeans. Beatrice was kind enough to let you borrow an outfit, but it made you self-conscious nonetheless.
It was only a plain black skirt and cropped cami. Nothing fancy, but you felt unlike yourself. Your day to day outfit was your uniform, and even then you paired it with preppy Oxfords and frilly socks. Nothing that screamed "sexy". You grabbed for your oversized flannel that you usually wore on the weekends, deciding that an extra layer would help your comfort level.
"Babe, you need to relax," Beatrice said, peering into the mirror on her desk to put the final touches on her lipgloss. "It's just a Gryffindor party. And you can leave once I have Oliver in my clutches."
"I know," you said, sounding defeated. "I just...Fred is going to be there."
You caught Beatrice's eyebrows raise from the reflection of the mirror. "Oh, so you're getting all worked up over Fred?"
You huffed. "No! I mean...he's just...he's going to be mad about the scarf."
"He's probably too knackered from the match today to care," Beatrice replied. "And from the beating he got from Adrian."
A lightbulb clicked on inside your head. You had forgotten to return Adrian's scarf. It was in your book bag. You reached for it, pulling out the scarf.
"That reminds me that I have to return this to Adrian," you said, turning towards the door. "I'll meet you back here in 15 minutes, I promise."
Before Beatrice could answer, you had already whirled out the door and down the stairs. You were headed for the Dungeons.
You still knew the passcode to the Slytherin dormitories, so getting inside was no problem at all. You made your way into their common room, finding Adrian on the couch with several of his quidditch teammates.
Your cheeks began to burn when he looked at you. It felt like he was devouring you with his eyes. He gulped, sitting up from the couch to greet you.
"Hey, love," he said, walking toward you. "I wasn't expecting you."
"Yes, sorry," you said, feeling suddenly sheepish. "I came to return your scarf as promised."
You held it up to hand it to him, and he grabbed the other end, using it to pull you closer.
"You look....I don't even have words," he muttered, sending a lightning bolt down your spine. His hand found its way to your hip, and you felt squirmy under his touch. "Where are you headed?"
"Uhm...I'm going to the Gryffindor party with Bea," you admitted, pulling away from him. "She wanted support in her mission to get with Oliver Wood."
Adrian chuckled and let out a huff. "She's always up to something. Are you planning on spending any time with Weasley?"
"Adrian..." you started.
"No, you need to hear this. What he said about you," Adrian said, anger rising in his voice. "That prat sees you as nothing more than a good shag."
You bit your lip, suddenly feeling nervous. "I can make my own decisions, Adrian," you said softly, feeling small.
"I know, love, but I don't want you to get hurt. He's a prick. He gets bad marks. And the way he talks about girls? Disgusting," Adrian spat out, shaking his head.
"I'm not going to the party for Fred, I'm going for Bea," you said, hoping to soothe his frustration.
"He's just...I don't like the idea of him being anywhere near you. What he said about you today....he deserved that black eye," he grumbled.
"What did he say?" you finally asked, your curiosity getting the best of you.
"He said something about my scarf. How you would look prettier with his hands around your throat," Adrian said, sounding disgusted as the words came out of his mouth.
Your face felt like it was on fire. What was Fred thinking? Anyone who knew Adrian was well aware of his temper. A remark like that about you was a surefire way to get beat up.
"I...you know Fred. He was probably joking," you said, trying to brush it off.
"No. The look on his face...he was dead serious. Nobody gets to talk that way about you," Adrian replied, his fists balling at his sides.
"Adrian," you said, reaching out to touch his arm. "I promise you that I can take care of myself. I can handle Fred. He's just being a git, that's nothing new for him."
"I know, love," he sighed, melting into your touch. "I just worry about you. You know that I care."
You nodded, retracting your hand from its place on his arm. "And I appreciate that. But I can stand my ground. Beatrice will be with me the whole time, and once she's off with Oliver, I'm going to go back to my room. I will be okay."
This seemed to calm him down, as he finally unclenched his fists and took a deep breath. "Be safe," he said, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead.
You turned back toward the entrance to the common room, making your way back up to Bea's room. It had definitely been at least 15 minutes by now, and she was likely getting antsy waiting for your return.
----
You and Bea stood on the fringes of the Gryffindor common room. It was packed with students with cups in their hands. The music was loud enough that you thought the lights would start shaking.
"Let's get some shots," Bea said, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the makeshift bar set up near the fireplace.
She picked up two shots, handing one to you. "Down the hatch," Bea said, taking her own shot.
You followed suit, grimacing at the burning sensation that followed. You had never enjoyed firewhiskey.
Bea occupied herself by looking for Oliver. You saw a tall ginger mingling with a group of other Gryffindors, and you couldn't quite tell if it was Fred or George from your view of the back of his head.
"Looking for me, darling?" a voice said from behind you. He was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of his chest.
You turned to face him. His freckled face was marred with a black eye, the bruise extending from underneath his eye to the top of his cheekbone. Adrian must have hit him pretty hard.
You winced as you took in the injury, imagining that it had to hurt. "What, am I really that ugly?" Fred asked in a teasing tone.
You stared up at him with a tight-lipped expression, crossing your arms. "It sounds like you deserved that black eye," you remarked.
Fred shrugged. "My words had their intended effect. Is Pucey still fuming?"
"You are such a git," you said, irritated at his lack of maturity. "I know what you said."
"Birdie, it's nothing that I wouldn't say to your face," he said, a smirk pulling at his lips.
"Stop calling me that," you replied, feeling angrier by the second. "I don't know what you're getting at, but I'm not an object. Now piss off."
Fred was taken aback by your words. His little game had gone too far.
"Darling, I didn't mean--" he started, reaching for your arm.
"I mean it Weasley," you said, your voice raising in volume. You shoved his chest, forcing him away from you. "Piss off."
Before he could get in another word, you had stormed off to find Bea. She had to be here somewhere.
In your mission to find Bea, you stumbled into Angelina. "Sorry, Angelina," you said, nearly knocking her drink out of her hand. "Have you seen Bea?"
She shook her head. "Last I saw her, she was with Wood. I haven't seen them in a bit, though."
You mumbled a thank you and continued your hunt. If she was off somewhere snogging Oliver Wood, you would be pretty impressed. That would be record time for Bea.
You went up the stairs toward the dormitories, determined to find your friend. You began knocking on doors, hoping that Bea was behind one of them. You didn't want to leave until you knew she was safe.
One of the doors was cracked open, and you knocked. Nobody answered, so you peeked your head in.
Someone was sitting in the dark, their head in their hands. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you realized who it was.
"Fred?" you called into the dark room, your voice soft.
The figure picked up its head. "Yes?" he replied, his voice quiet and full of despair.
You entered the room, closing the door behind you. You pulled out your wand, muttering "lumos" before going any further.
Fred was sitting on the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees. As you got closer, you noticed his face. It was puffy and red as if he had been crying.
"What's wrong?" you asked, sitting criss cross on the floor in front of him.
He shook his head, clenching and unclenching his jaw. You sat there in silence for a few moments before he swallowed, finally answering.
"I'm sorry," he said, quiet enough that it sounded like a whisper. "I didn't mean...you're not...I'm just so sorry."
You looked up at Fred. There was a softness in his eyes that you had seen a few times before. It was genuine. He looked absolutely gutted.
"Why are you sorry?" you asked, carefully prodding at him for answers.
"I didn't mean to make you feel like....like some sort of object," he said, sounding embarrassed. "You're not. I don't see you like that. I've been messing with you, but I took it too far. And I'm sorry."
Your heart pounded in your chest. You had never seen Fred this vulnerable. And you had never heard him apologize before.
"You're just...I thought we were both toying with each other. I liked it. The way you talk back to me, your stubbornness. I love that about you. But making you feel like I only see you as someone to shag...that's not what I intended. That's not how I feel," he continued.
"Fred," you said, sitting up on your knees. You reached for his hand, holding it for a second before he pulled away.
"I really do like you. I am so sorry that I made you upset," Fred said, locking eyes with you again. "You don't have to forgive me, but I need you to know how sorry I am. You deserve better."
You stood up from your place on the floor. You parted his knees, standing directly in front of him. He looked up at you from his place sitting on the bed, nothing but softness in his gaze. He truly was sorry, and you knew it.
Your hand found its way to his cheek, your thumb stroking his cheekbone that was bruised purple. You swallowed hard.
You leaned down, your lips meeting his in a whisper of a kiss. It was gentle, it barely even felt like your lips met at all. But you forgave him. This was your way of showing it.
You pulled apart, but your gaze still held. "I forgive you, Fred," you whispered, your hand still on his cheek.
A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Not a mischievous grin like usual, but a genuine, kind smile. One filled with adoration.
Fred was like putty in your hands. His tough exterior gave way to a person who was sensitive and kind. You had seen glimpses of that before, but never like this.
You finally knew how he felt about you. His feelings were genuine. And you were willing to trust him if he continued to be this vulnerable in front of you.
"I do quite enjoy teasing you," you said, smirking down at him.
"I knew it," he replied with a small chuckle, his hand lightly touching against your hip.
You were still stood between his legs, quite a precarious position. You knew exactly where you were going to go from here.
You shoved him back onto the bed, and he let out a "hmph" of surprise. Before he even got a word in, you were on top of him, straddling his torso.
Fred's eyes were wide with surprise and his brows dipped in confusion. "I thought you were sorry," you said, your voice dropping lower than usual, sounding almost sultry.
"I am," he said, still confused.
"Then prove it," you challenged him, placing a hand firmly on his chest.
Fred grinned up at you. Now you were on the same page. "Are you sure about that, darling?" he asked.
"Did I stutter?" you replied, a slight sharpness to your voice as you looked down at him.
His grin widened. "Don't say I didn't warn you," he teased.
In a matter of seconds, Fred had flipped you onto your back and pinned your hands over your head. He looked down at you, obviously very pleased with himself.
"Tell me if you want me to stop," he said, locking eyes with you.
You gulped. "I don't want you to."
Fred leaned down to kiss you, your hands still pinned firmly above your head. He shifted so he was holding your wrists with only one hand, using the other to trail up your side.
The kisses started off slow at first, but they quickly gained in pace as Fred felt you squirming underneath him. "Impatient, are we?" he said between kisses.
You only groaned in reply, fighting against him to gain control of your hands again. His free hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer into him. You wrapped your legs around his torso, begging him to be as close as possible.
His kisses migrated down to your jaw, then to your neck. He sucked a few love bites into the base of your neck, and you were dreading explaining those to your roommates in the morning.
Fred was relishing in the tiny moans that were escaping from your mouth. He knew that you were desperate, so he was determined to take his time.
"Freddie, please," you said, your voice almost sounding like a whine.
"Oh, so I'm Freddie now?" he teased, kissing along your collarbones. He alternated between kissing and nipping at your sensitive skin, and it was driving you insane.
"If this is your way of apologizing, I don't forgive you," you teased back, squeezing your thighs around his midsection. Fred chuckled.
"What would you like then, birdie?" he asked, suddenly sounding sweet and innocent. His eyes found yours, and your voice got caught in your throat. You wished he didn't have that effect on you.
"Let me think..." you replied, trailing off in pretend thought. "Most people I know apologize on their knees."
Fred's eyes changed, the playful glint being replaced by a competitive fire. His trademark smirk crept across his face, and you knew you were in for it.
"Alright then," he said, finally releasing you. He backed off of the bed, standing on the floor in front of you.
Fred grabbed you by the backs of your knees, pulling you to the edge of the bed in one fluid motion. You giggled in reply, surprised by his sudden movements.
"I meant to tell you, this outfit is cracking," he said, tracing his hands down your thighs. A bolt of lightning ran down your spine, and you arched off of the bed. "I think you could lose the skirt, though."
Fred looked to you for permission, waiting for you to nod before he drew your legs together and tugged at your skirt. He pulled it all the way off, folding it before putting it on the floor.
"You're folding my clothes at a time like this?" you joked, trying not to feel embarrassed as you lay on his bed in only your top and knickers.
"You don't strike me as someone who likes creases in their clothes," he replied, pulling your legs open and kneeling on the floor. "You're a prefect, for Merlin's sake."
"Don't remind me of that while I'm half naked in your dormitory," you scolded him, playfully knocking at him with your knees.
"You're a good girl, I like that," Fred commented, brushing his hands on the outside of your thighs. He placed a kiss next to your knee, slowly kissing down your inner thighs.
You tried to even your breathing, frustrated at how worked up you were over just some kisses. You were no stranger to sex, but this was something different altogether. Fred made you feel like your skin was on fire.
Fred had finally reached your knickers, kissing along the waistband. A whimper escaped from your lips, and he looked up at you.
What a vision. Fred Weasley, cheeks flushed, lips pink, staring up at you with lust-filled eyes from between your legs. Your heart was beating so fast that you knew he could feel it too.
"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" Fred asked, his fingers playing along your waistband.
"Freddie....please," was all you could manage to say. Your voice was barely above a whisper.
He pulled at your knickers, bringing your legs together so he could take them off. Instead of folding them like your skirt, he simply tossed them to the side.
"Will you tell me if you want to stop?" Fred asked, becoming serious for a moment.
"Yes," you replied, reaching down to cup his face. You could still make out his freckles from the glint of your wand light. He was simply perfect.
Fred kissed your wrist, then kissed along your thighs once more. Your breathing became more rapid in anticipation of where his mouth would go next.
You could feel his breath on you. His lips finally made contact with your center, your hands gripping at his ginger locks.
He licked at your clit, his hands squeezing your thighs. You moaned, your fingernails digging into his scalp.
It took him only moments to find his groove, causing moans and swears to fall from your lips as he worked you closer to your release.
"Freddie," you breathed out, tugging at his hair. He groaned into you, making your back arch even further off of the bed.
You bit your lip, trying to fight off your orgasm. Finishing this quickly felt like letting him win, and you couldn't have that.
Fred could feel the tension building within your body. His hand reached up to find your cami, snaking underneath it. He expertly located your nipple, playing with it with his fingers. His mouth never left you for a second.
Your body finally gave in, tired from resisting the pleasure. Your hips bucked lightly off of the bed, a mix of "fuck"s and "Freddie"s leaving your mouth.
Fred worked you down from your orgasm slowly, finally leaving your clit to put a few love bites on your thighs. Your chest was heaving, and you were trying to find the words to say to him.
"So fucking gorgeous, birdie," he said, his eyes burning into yours.
You moved backwards on the bed, motioning for him to join you. He got up from the floor, laying on the bed next to you.
"Do you forgive me now?" he teased, turning on his side to look at you.
"Hmmm...I'll need to consider it," you replied, grinning at him.
Fred had been in control, but now it was your turn. You pushed at his shoulders, turning him so he was laying on his back. You straddled him once again, but he looked less surprised this time.
"You really love being in charge of me, huh?" he joked, his hands stroking at your sides.
"It's only fair, Freddie. I am a prefect, as you so graciously reminded me," you said, propping your hands on his chest.
"Okay, madam prefect. Are you going to give me detention?" he said, rolling his eyes at you as he grinned.
"You wish. An hour with me in a classroom? Sounds like a scene from your dreams," you teased.
You leaned down to kiss him, hands still on his chest. His arms wrapped around your back, pulling you in closer.
A loud knock on the door interrupted your kissing. You and Fred scrambled apart, and you had pulled on your skirt in a matter of seconds.
Fred went to the door, cracking it open. "Is she with you?" a voice asked, sounding a lot like Beatrice.
You came up beside Fred so Beatrice could see you in the room. She looked you up and down, taking in your messy hair and crooked clothing.
"I...um, I was just coming to tell you that I'm going back to the dormitories," Bea said, obviously shocked at the sight in front of her.
"Okay, I'll come with you," you said. "I'll meet you in the common room in a few minutes."
Bea nodded, turning and heading back toward the common room. Fred shut the door, and you looked for a mirror. You found one, attempting to tame your hair and straighten out your clothes.
"Perfect prefect doesn't like to get caught hooking up with troublemakers, does she?" Fred asked, half teasing and half serious.
"Fred," you said, turning to face him.
"No, I get it. Not good for your image, or whatever," he said, busying himself with straightening the covers on his bed.
"Freddie, look at me," you commanded, your voice edging between soft and authoritative.
He turned to you, his face unreadable.
"I like you Freddie," you said, taking a few steps toward him. "I'm not worried about my image. Yes, I'm a prefect, but I don't have a broom up my arse."
Fred chuckled. You took the last few steps, finally standing in front of him. You wrapped your arms around his middle, pulling him into a hug. Your head rested perfectly against his chest, and his hands found their way into your hair.
"I'm sorry for antagonizing Adrian," Fred said, talking into your hair. "I know that he still loves you. I shouldn't have used that against him."
"Yeah, not your brightest idea," you replied, face still buried in his chest. "Adrian will understand eventually. He won't like it, but it's not up to him."
"Godric, you're sexy," Fred said, squeezing you tighter.
You laughed. "What was that for?"
"You don't let anyone tell you what to do. It's bloody irresistible," he replied.
"You're included in that, you know," you said.
"Oh, I am very aware," he chuckled.
"I have to go home with Bea," you said, slowly pulling out of the hug. "See you around?"
"'See you around'? That's the best you've got?" Fred joked, kissing the top of your head.
"You wouldn't like me if I weren't hard to get," you replied, standing on your tip toes to give him a quick kiss on the lips.
You turned and opened the door, glancing over your shoulder at him.
Summary: Fred realises his true feelings for you once you are dared to french kiss George during a round of truth or dare. Draco then forces you to kiss him instead, which only results in a brawl. You then take Fred back to the common room and help clean his wounds.
Warnings/tags: violence/fighting, jealous!fred, kissing, non-con touch, Draco being a git (sorry malfoy lovers 😭), cleaning wounds after a fight trope, reader isn't in a specified house here, spicy ending (if u squint)
———
Ravenclaw’s common room had never seen a gathering quite like this. The enchanted blue flames flickered in the fireplace, casting a radiant glow over the room, which today, was packed with students from all four houses.
Luna had invited everyone over, claiming that a “spontaneous social gathering” would be a great way to pass the time and forget about your studies for a while.
The usual gryffindor group, Cedric and some hufflepuffs, the slytherin trio and Cho, all decided to partake in this gathering.
And so, there you all were, sitting in a large, chaotic circle on the floor, playing a game of truth or dare that had long spiralled out of control.
The rules were simple: if you refused a dare or a truth, you had to take Veritaserum and spill your deepest, darkest secret in front of everyone. No one wanted to risk that.
So far, Harry had been dared to kiss the prettiest girl in the room, which led to him—rather sheepishly—kissing Ginny, earning a gag from Ron. But moments later, Ron found himself a stuttering mess when Hermione had been dared to sit on his lap for two rounds, her face burning red while he struggled to keep his cool.
Neville, poor thing, had been forced to recount an embarrassing moment where he tripped down an entire staircase in front of his crush, which turned out alright anyway because they went to Madam Pomfrey together and spent the whole day chatting.
And now, it was your turn.
Draco, who sat beside you, leaned in with a smug grin. “Alright Y/N, let’s make this interesting,” he drawled. “I dare you to French kiss the person sitting across from you.”
You turned your head, your stomach flipping.
And there sat George Weasley, grinning at you like he had already won.
The room erupted into cheers, and George wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “Well, Y/N, I won’t say no,” he teased, leaning back on his hands.
Your heart sank a little—not because George was a bad choice, but because you wished it was his twin instead.
Still, rules were rules.
Taking a deep breath, you stood up and took slow tentative steps across the large circle, kneeling in front of George. “Alright Georgie, just get it over with,” you muttered, cheeks burning.
George chuckled. “Hey! At least pretend to be excited.”
You rolled your eyes, chuckling lightly, before leaning in, pressing your lips to his. He kissed you back easily, bringing a hand to your neck, letting it linger a moment longer than necessary before you pulled away, flustered.
George gave you a grin then winked, and you smiled back. He was one of your closest friends, after all; teasing you came naturally to him.
"Okay that's done!" Flustered, you rose up and hurried back to your spot next to Draco.
"You guys are adorable." Cho, who was sitting on the other side of you, nudged you gently, and you laughed nervously.
Sure, George was handsome, humorous, and kind, but he wasn't Fred. To most people, they were pretty much the same person, two halves of a whole, but to you, it was different. There was something about Fred that you saw differently.
Speaking of Fred, you shot a quick glance in his direction, curious as to his whole reaction regarding the scene that just unfolded.
Fred hadn’t said a word.
He sat stiffly, arms crossed, his jaw tight as he glared at his twin. Something in his chest twisted when he saw George’s smug grin.
But it wasn't entirely George's fault. You see, no one knew of Fred's secret crush on you. Would you call it a crush? Man, feelings were a complicated mystery to Fred, he never bothered going down that lane, it was foreign to him. Best avoid all that sappy stuff, y'know.
Draco, however, was unimpressed. “That was pathetic,” he scoffed, leaning closer to you. “You call that a French kiss? It had to be longer.”
You folded your arms, tilting your head to the side. “You didn’t even say how long.”
Draco smirked. “Fine, then, two minutes. You can do it on me instead. Save you the hassle of walking over there again."
The room let out a collective “ooooh,” and your stomach churned.
"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" Crabbe, Goyle and Dean chanted.
"Wha—I already did the dare!" You countered, raising your hands in defence.
"Hmm now that Draco mentioned it, it was a bit of a short kiss, barely a French kiss, more like a Portuguese kiss." Lee agreed, resting his hand on his chin.
"Portuguese kiss? That's not even a thing you git." Angelina chortled, throwing her head back.
Before you could react, Draco leaned in slightly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. His fingers barely grazed your cheek, but it was enough to make you shift uncomfortably. He patted your head, smiling like he was doing you some kind of favour.
You didn’t like it.
But Draco was your friend, and this was supposed to be fun, so you ignored it. You didn't want to ruin the mood for everyone so you forced yourself to tolerate it.
Fred, however, wasn’t ignoring it.
His hand was clenched into a tight fist in his lap, and his usually mischievous eyes were laced with something entirely different.
Draco leaned in again, wrapping one arm around you. “Come on, then,” he murmured, his smirk widening. “Or do you want the Veritaserum?”
Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. You didn’t want to kiss him. But you definitely didn’t want to take the serum, either.
Draco took your hesitation as an invitation. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re scared.”
The crowd cheered again, urging you on.
Draco removed his arm then ruffled your hair slightly, "Don't be a wuss, I'll make it enjoyable for ya."
"Don't be scared Y/N, it's only a kiss!" Seamus encouraged, hoping to make you feel better, but it only made you feel worse.
Only a kiss? You wanted to save french kissing for someone special, not some ridiculous dare.
Draco leaned closer, nuzzling his nose into your neck. His hand brushed against your arm, he was so close that you could now smell his fresh scent. You leaned back instinctively, smiling awkwardly while brushing your arm.
Everyone was so caught up encouraging the two of you to kiss that no one paid attention to the speed at which Fred stood up from the floor and bolted to Draco, tackling him harshly.
A collective gasp echoed through the room as the two of them crashed onto the floor. Draco barely had time to react before Fred punched him, his face twisted in pure rage. The two of them were now in a brawl, wrestling each other on the ground. It was clear that no one was going easy on each other.
“Keep your hands off her,” Fred snapped, his voice low and furious.
Draco, stunned for only a second, sneered up at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
"Fred! Oi! Stop, it's just a game!" Lee's attempt at stopping Fred with his words was useless.
Fred wasn’t listening. His fists clenched, his breathing heavy as he pinned Draco down, gripping his shirt harshly.
Draco’s smirk returned. “Merlin, are you jealous Weasley?”
Fred loosened his grip, blinking slowly, "I..."
"Called it. Bet you wished it was you getting to french kiss Y/N then. Why don't you let me finish my dare with her so I can show you how it's done eh?" Draco remarked, all too obnoxiously for Fred's liking.
Fred's eyes grew darker, laced with furiousness.
He lunged again, and in a matter of seconds, they were full-on fighting.
Gasps and shouts filled the room as they tumbled, fists flying, knocking over a pile of books and scattering cards from an abandoned wizarding chess game. The flood thudded heavily, as they continued their wrestling.
“Fred! Draco! Stop!” Voices pleaded, but they were drowned out as Fred was blinded by rage. How dare Draco force himself onto you like that?!
No one listened.
You watched them in pure horror as they fought; you joined the others in yelling at them to stop, but none of them listened.
Hermione immediately went to comfort you, placing a comforting hand on your arm and sending you an apologetic look. Was this all because of you? You felt like shit for causing this, bloody hell, you should've just french kissed Draco.
“Merlin’s beard, Fred, stop!” George tried pulling his twin back, but Fred shook him off, shoving him away.
Cedric attempted to pull Draco off Fred, but Draco pushed him aside, scoffing, "Not now Diggory!"
Draco, despite being an arrogant prat, was also a decent fighter, and he managed to shove Fred back, wiping a bit of blood from his lip.
“What the hell?!” you finally yelled, eyes darting from Fred to Draco.
Fred froze.
His furious gaze met yours, his chest rising and falling heavily, as he wiped some blood off his lips.
He swallowed hard. Then, without a word, he turned and stormed out of the common room.
You hesitated only a second before running after him.
—
You found him on the astronomy tower balcony, leaning against the railing, gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white.
The night air was cold, but Fred’s skin was burning.
You took a deep breath. “Fred—”
“Why don’t you go check on Draco?” he cut in sharply. “Or George. Your boyfriends.”
Your brows furrowed. “They’re not my boyfriends. You're being ridiculous now.”
Fred let out a short, humourless laugh. “Really? You were getting pretty cozy with George back there.”
You sighed. “It was a dare, Fred.”
“Oh, and Draco just happened to be all over you?” He turned to face you, and that’s when you saw it—his bruised lip, the cut on his cheekbone, the faint traces of blood at the corner of his mouth.
"Come on, I know we're friends but I can handle myself." You assumed he was being protective as a friend, so you attempted comforting him, but failed miserably at doing so.
"Yeah, friends." He pressed his lips together.
You took a step closer wanting to reach up, but Fred’s eyes flickered elsewhere. “Don’t.”
You froze.
“I don’t need you feeling bad for me,” he muttered, turning back to the railing. His grip tightened. “I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s not pity, Fred,” you said softly.
Silence stretched between you. The wind howled through the tower, whipping his hair slightly, but Fred didn’t move.
Your gaze drifted to his hands. His knuckles were raw, bruised from the fight.
Without thinking, you reached out, gently prying one of his fists open. He held his breath, glancing down at you.
Your fingers traced the swelling on his knuckles, your touch featherlight. “We need to clean this up.”
Fred didn’t protest. He just stood there, his jaw clenched, watching you. He released his breath, silently agreeing.
Wordlessly, you pulled his hand in yours, leading him down the spiral staircase, away from the cold, away from the fight, away from everyone else.
—
The fire crackled softly in the Gryffindor common room, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The common room was empty—everyone was either asleep or still in the Ravenclaw tower, talking about what had happened.
Fred sat on the couch, his arms resting on his knees, his head tilted slightly downward. He hadn’t said much since you dragged him back.
You returned from the bathroom with a damp cloth and knelt in front of him.
“Hold still,” you murmured, gently dabbing at the dried blood on his lip.
Fred flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away. He just watched you, his hazel eyes unreadable, though there was a glimmer of something, awe, perhaps.
His eyes studied yours, the way your eyebrows furrowed as you focused on cleaning his wounds. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, you were the epitome of beauty in his eyes, a darling angel.
You focused on cleaning him up, biting your lip. The silence between you was begging to be broken, heavy with something left unsaid. But you chose to ignore it, shifting your focus to getting Fred cleaned up.
You see, it was the way you were always so caring towards everyone, so kind, always selflessly giving your time away to help those who needed it. That was part of the reason Fred had fallen for you in the first place, your kindness.
Fred exhaled sharply as you pressed on his wound.
"Sorry..." you mutter, but he gently removed your arm, and rested it on his knee.
“I don’t know how to stop this,” he said suddenly.
You paused, looking up at him. “Stop what?”
He let out a cheerless laugh. “This. You. Making me feel like a complete idiot.”
Your heart pace increased. “I—”
“Do you know what it’s like?” His voice was raw, unfiltered, a slight rasp as he spoke softly. “Watching you? Seeing every guy in that room touch you? Kiss you?” He shook his head. “I nearly lost my mind.”
You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away.
“Never thought I'd admit it, but I’ve wanted you,” his voice low, almost trembling. “For so long, and I—” He broke off, exhaling harshly. “And then tonight, I had to sit there and watch it. Merlin, it drove me so bloody mad.”
Your hands were shaking. Was this it? The Fred you never thought would ever return your feelings, about to spew the words right out?
Fred’s eyes locked onto yours, something desperate behind this gaze.
“I hate that you don’t see it,” he muttered.
“See what?” you breathed.
His lips parted, and for a second, he hesitated.
“That I love you.”
Your breath caught, inhaling as you paused.
Fred let out a rough laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Godric, I love you. I don’t just like you, I love you. And it kills me because I know you don’t feel the same way so I just thought I'd keep it to myself but here we are."
Your heartbeat felt as though it was pounding loud enough to wake up the whole dorm.
“You idiot,” you whispered.
Fred blinked. “What?”
“You idiot,” you repeated, your voice shaking. Then, before he could react, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his with all the emotion you've held back, the words you've been dying to say to him.
It was nothing like the kiss with George.
This was everything.
Fred let out a soft, startled sound before his hands found your waist, pulling you closer, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever. His lips moved against yours, desperate, breathless. He kissed you like he had something to prove, like he needed you to know how much he meant it.
And you did.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, getting up from kneeling and he pulled you onto his lap, now straddling him in the common room, to which you were thankful that no one was around.
A soft moan escaped you, as he sucked on your lower lip, your hands tangled themselves in his fluffy hair, tugging lightly.
When you finally pulled back, both of you breathless, you whispered, “I love you too.”
Fred let out a quiet, shaky laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “You better.” He teased.
You rolled your eyes, and he grinned.
“Oh, shut up,” you muttered, kissing him again as if there was no tomorrow. He smiled into the kiss, desperately needing a round two with you, his Y/N.
