𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕃𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝔹𝕖𝕥𝕨𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕌𝕤 | 𝔽𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕎𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕝𝕖𝕪
@ xoxoch3rry do not steal or translate my work.
ᴳᴵᶠ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵉ ~
Fred Weasley x fem!Malfoy reader
Warnings: Unrequited love, Angst.
Summary: Fred refuses to give up, determined to prove that love can transcend their families' hatred—even if it means facing heartbreak along the way.
The Hogwarts corridors were quieter than usual. Most students were at dinner, the Great Hall alive with chatter and clinking cutlery. You, however, found solace in the emptiness of the castle. You didn’t feel like sitting through another evening surrounded by the icy stares and cutting remarks of your housemates in Slytherin. The weight of your last name—Malfoy—was one you carried silently, its expectations heavy on your shoulders.
You turned a corner, your robes brushing against the stone walls, only to come face-to-face with Fred Weasley. His fiery red hair was unmistakable, even in the dim light of the torches lining the hall. His face lit up when he saw you, a grin spreading across his freckled face.
“Fancy meeting you here, Malfoy,” he said, leaning casually against the wall as if he hadn’t deliberately waited for you.
You sighed, your grip tightening on the book in your hands. “What do you want, Weasley?”
Fred’s grin faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly, his brown eyes sparkling with something between mischief and longing. “Just wanted to see you. Is that so bad?”
“Yes,” you said curtly, though your voice lacked the venom you wished it carried. You stepped around him, your pace quickening, but you weren’t surprised when he fell into step beside you.
“You can’t keep avoiding me forever, you know,” he said, his tone lighter than the conversation warranted.
“I’m not avoiding you,” you muttered, keeping your gaze fixed ahead.
“Could’ve fooled me,” Fred shot back, his voice softening. “You’ve been avoiding me since last week. Since—”
“Don’t,” you interrupted, coming to an abrupt stop. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his. “Don’t bring that up.”
He frowned, his usual confidence faltering. “Y/N, I meant what I said.”
You clenched your jaw, the memory of his confession playing in your mind. Fred Weasley, the Gryffindor prankster, the boy with an infectious laugh and a heart far too kind for someone like you, had told you he loved you. And you had turned him away.
Later that night, you sat by the fire in the Slytherin common room, absently stroking Draco’s white owl as it perched on the arm of your chair. Across from you, Draco slouched on the couch, one leg draped over the other, his silver eyes watching you intently.
“You’re brooding again,” Draco said, his voice cutting through the silence.
“I’m not brooding,” you snapped, though you both knew it was a lie.
Draco smirked, his trademark arrogance shining through. “You only sit in that chair when you’re thinking about him.”
You glared at him, but the heat in your cheeks betrayed you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Fred Weasley,” Draco said, his tone dripping with disdain. “That one twin who seems to think following you around like a lovesick puppy is charming.”
“He’s not following me,” you muttered, though you knew it wasn’t entirely true. “And he’s not… he’s not a bad person, Draco.”
“He’s a Weasley,” Draco said sharply. “That’s bad enough.”
You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Draco raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. “Try me.”
For all his faults—and there were many—Draco was still your brother, the one person you could confide in without fear of judgment. You hesitated for a moment before speaking.
“He… he told me he loved me,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
Draco’s eyes widened in surprise before narrowing in irritation. “And you didn’t hex him?”
“Draco,” you said warningly.
“What?” he said, throwing his hands up. “You can’t seriously be considering—”
“I’m not,” you interrupted, your voice firm. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. We can’t be together.”
Draco studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Good,” he said finally. “Because if Father found out—”
“I know,” you said, cutting him off. “I know, Draco.”
He nodded, leaning back into the couch with a satisfied smirk. “Just make sure it stays that way.”
But it didn’t stay that way. Fred didn’t give up.
The next day, you found a note tucked into your Potions textbook. The handwriting was unmistakably Fred’s, the letters slightly slanted and playful.
Meet me by the Astronomy Tower after class. Please.
You crumpled the note in your fist, your stomach twisting. You told yourself you wouldn’t go, that it was better to stay away. But as the day wore on, your resolve faltered. By the time night fell, you found yourself climbing the stairs to the Astronomy Tower.
Fred was waiting for you, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the railing. When he saw you, his face lit up with that familiar grin, though it quickly faded into something softer.
“You came,” he said, his voice tinged with surprise.
“Don’t make me regret it,” you replied, though there was no real bite to your words.
Fred stepped closer, his brown eyes searching yours. “Y/N, I meant what I said. I love you. And I know you feel something too.”
You turned away, your hands gripping the cold stone railing. “It doesn’t matter how I feel, Fred. We can’t do this.”
“Why not?” he asked, his voice cracking. “Because of our families? Because of some stupid rivalry that’s been going on for centuries?”
“Yes,” you said, your voice trembling. “Because of that. Because my family would never accept this. Because your family would never accept me.”
Fred stepped closer, his hand brushing yours. “My family would love you, Y/N. If they knew you the way I do, they’d love you.”
You pulled your hand away, tears stinging your eyes. “You don’t understand, Fred. You don’t understand what it’s like to be a Malfoy. The expectations, the pressure… I can’t just walk away from that.”
“You don’t have to,” he said, his voice soft but desperate. “I’m not asking you to give up your family. I’m just asking you to give us a chance.”
You turned to face him, your heartbreaking at the look in his eyes. “Fred, I can’t.”
“Won’t,” he corrected, his voice bitter. “You won’t.”
“Call it whatever you want,” you said, stepping back. “But this… this has to stop.”
Fred stared at you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You’re wrong,” he said finally, his voice trembling with emotion. “This doesn’t have to stop. I won’t give up on you, Y/N. I can’t.”
You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Instead, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone in the cold night air.
The following weeks were torture. Fred didn’t give up, no matter how much distance you tried to put between you. He left notes in your books, charmed enchanted paper planes to find you in the library, and even sent you a bouquet of enchanted flowers that bloomed in Slytherin green and silver.
Your housemates teased you mercilessly, though none of them knew the truth. Only Draco knew, and he made sure to remind you of the consequences every chance he got.
“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said one evening, his voice low and sharp. “If Father finds out…”
“He won’t,” you said, though your voice lacked conviction.
Draco scoffed, shaking his head. “You can’t keep this up, Y/N. He’s not going to stop.”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t know how to.
It all came to a head one evening in the library. You were sitting alone, trying to focus on your Potions essay, when Fred appeared, soaked from the rain. His hair stuck to his forehead, and his usually mischievous grin was replaced with a look of pure determination.
“Fred,” you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. “What are you doing here?”
“Talking to you,” he said, sitting across from you. “You’ve been avoiding me again.”
“For good reason,” you said, your voice tight. “You’re making this harder than it has to be.”
“Because it’s worth it,” he said firmly. “Because you’re worth it.”
Your resolve cracked, tears welling in your eyes. “Fred, please…”
“No,” he said, his voice breaking. “I love you, Y/N. And I think you love me too, even if you won’t admit it. So tell me—tell me right now that you don’t feel anything for me, and I’ll leave you alone. Forever.”
You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. Because you couldn’t. Because it wasn’t true.
Fred leaned forward, his brown eyes locked onto yours. “Say it, Y/N. Say you don’t love me.”
At that moment, you realized that no matter how hard you tried to fight it, Fred Weasley had already claimed a piece of your heart.
