Summary: Fred Weasley’s latest invention leaves him unable to keep his private thoughts to himself. Quite unfortunate when you’re wearing his sweater and smiling at him.
A.N.: Here's just a little freddy fic while I'm still editing the next chapter for the great war and waiting for inspiration for my next sebastian one,, i hope you enjoy!
also available on ao3: here
“I thought we agreed to leave the testing to the fourth years?” George asked Fred, giving a strong questioning look to the small batch of rounded, chocolate covered candies that was being offered to him, on a gold colored napkin no less.
Fred had so far spent the better part of an hour trying to convince his brother to try out his new invention that was tied into the sweet. The idea was quite simple really. Each piece of the candy had a minor dosage of Veritaserum inside them, so the consumer wouldn’t feel an overarching need to share the complete truth, only a strange– yet very persistent– nagging feeling to do so. Similar to the Liquid Luck potion. They’d still be able to lie or avoid total truths, but just not without feeling a certain way about it.
Fred thought this would be perfect for the professors of Hogwarts, journalists, or even the Ministry of Magic. He also had the wandering thought that if you were able to get a taste of it, he’d have a better chance of finding out if you actually did have any feelings towards him, as George had tried telling him you did, before he took the leap of finally asking you out.
It was a big deal, really. The two of you had been building a friendship for the past six years together, since both of your first years at the school. He wasn’t too willing to throw all of that into the wind just because he couldn’t keep his feelings to himself for once. But, the longer he sat on the idea, he didn’t like the feeling of you not having complete and total control of your words, especially with that topic.
George, however? He was free game. He couldn’t find a reason that just double checking the validity of his statements about the potential relationship with you. If he heard something, he wouldn’t ask what, directly from you or if he just had another one of his “feelings” about it.
“They’re not too willing right now. Not after you mixed up the Ton-Tongue Toffees and the Nosebleed Nougat last week.” Fred pressed, pushing forward his hand again.
“Hardly my fault, that one. You’d think they know the difference by now.” George said, eyeing one of the chocolate covered balls. He had a funny feeling about being a test subject again, especially his twin’s. “Why don’t you just do it?” He said, shaking his head again at it and pushing his brother's hand away.
“Nothing to gain from me doing it.” Fred grumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes to look in another direction.
Missing his words and only seeing the deflating look in his brother, George groaned. “Look,” He started, scratching the back of his neck. “If you try it first, and don’t explode or something, I’ll try it too.” He offered. Usually, they didn’t need two test subjects for one product, but it had been a while since they’ve created new joke candies, and if it didn’t hurt him, George didn’t mind telling the truth for a few hours.
Fred looked down at the sweets in his hands, then back to his brother. He let out a huff then placed one of them in his mouth and began chewing. If it meant George would also eat one and was able to answer just one of his questions, it’d be worth it. George gave a blank look at his brother’s dramatics, as he reached for his piece.
“What do you even call these things?” George asked, as he brought the candy closer to his face to eye it down better.
“Truth truffles.” Fred said, through his mouthful, trying to get it down quickly.
“And how’d you come up with the idea?”
Fred swallowed the candy in his mouth before he answered. “I wanted to give one to Y/N at first to see if she actually had feelings for me but then felt bad at the idea, mainly at the thought that she might hate me and never speak to me again. Then, I decided to just get you to try one to see if you were just blowing smoke on if she felt the same or not.” Fred heard his voice say, but he had little control of the words that were leaving. Paling, he met George’s eyes.
George narrowed his eyebrows at him with a questioning look. “That so?”
Fred nodded his head, unwillingly. “Yeah, I know that you’ll eventually forgive me for nearly whatever, but I’m not willing to risk the same with her. Not sure how I’d manage being around her so often when she’d want nothing to do with me. I hon–” Fred cut himself off with a hand over his mouth, but the muffled words of his sentence continued. He looked at his brother in horror as his previous sentence finished. “I didn’t mean to say all that.”
George stood there for a moment, unsure of how to go about this. His eyes fell down to the sweet that was in his hand then back to Fred. Slowly, and without breaking eye contact, he placed the candy back in his brother’s hand and took a step back.
“You know, now that I think about it, I’m actually quite fond of having a few private thoughts.”
Fred looked at him gobsmacked. “You said you’d try one if I didn’t explode.”
“I’d argue that you did.” George laughed. It was hard to feel bad for the guy when he’d just admitted that he not only planned to trick him, but that he could survive being hated by him for a bit if he got what he wanted.
“Oh..” Fred groaned out. “What am I meant to do? Madam Pomfrey said if she sees me again from another prank gone wrong, she would go straight to McGonagall and have me benched from quidditch for the rest of the season.” He said, dropping the truffles on the floor when he realized that he’d still been holding them, then looked back up to his brother. “You know I can’t be benched. Not only am I the best beater, I wouldn’t be able to see her cheer me on from the stands anymore. Merlin, she’d probably be embarrassed to even be seen with me.”
George’s laughter began to fade, midspiral, and he reached out to put his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “Freddy, just take a breath.” Fred nodded his head and began breathing in deeply from his nose, no longer trusting his mouth enough to willingly open it. “We’re not going to Pomfrey.” George continued.
“We’re not?” Fred asked, confused.
“At least not yet, not if we don’t need to.” George said slowly, taking his hands off his brother. “We’ll just, uh, wait it out.”
“Wait it out? George, I’d like you to take a look at that clock over there.” Fred said, harshly pointing at the clock across the room. Right. It’s nearly lunchtime. George hummed in response and his mind began racing.
If they skipped lunch, you and Lee were sure to seek them out directly after, but if they went, Fred was sure to say something truly detrimental to you. The pair stood there for a moment trying to think of ways to get around this.
“I’ve got it.” Fred said, a wide smile across his face. George lifted his head to him and motioned for him to continue. “I’ll just keep my mouth full with food the entire time.” George gave him a blank look.
“That’s your plan? Stuff your face?”
“Yeah, it’s brilliant, really. If I do that, even if I were to swallow if they ask why I’m acting weird, it wouldn’t be suspicious when I shove a bread roll in my mouth before I can say it’s because I can’t stop thinking of kissing her every time she looks at me. They’ll never suspect a thing.” Fred finished, folding his arms in triumph.
George couldn’t help but to look at an imaginary camera. He had to’ve been getting pranked by someone much better than they were. Better yet, Fred had to be in on it.
“So we’re just ignoring how you kept trying to talk through your hand earlier. Right, okay.”
“It’s different. Food has density.” Fred pressed.
“So does your skull apparently.” George muttered, before his own idea comes to him. “We’ll just, Merlin, we’ll just sit away from them today. Surely they both can manage one day without us.” Fred nodded at his idea. It admittedly sounded much more manageable than his had.
“Right, that’s actually much better.” Fred pointed a finger at him.
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That plan lasted all of ten seconds, which, to be fair, was ten seconds longer than George had expected it to. The moment Fred and George entered the Great Hall, Lee Jordan had spotted them from the Gryffindor table and lifted one of his hands high in the air, and began to wave them over.
“Oi, over here!” Lee yelled over the loud ambiance. Fred stopped dead in his tracks, causing George to stumble into the back of him. Both of their faces fell when they realized what was going to happen. They couldn’t just blow you two off, at least not without repercussions.
“Oh that’s not fair.” Fred said under his breath as he took in the sight of you. You were wearing the deep forest green sweater you had stolen from him a few weeks prior, and giving him the most warm and welcoming smile he thought he’d ever seen. “She’s wearing my sweater and looking at me, like I haven’t spent the past fifteen minutes trying not to imagine kissing her senseless in front of the entire Gryffindor table.”
For one brief and defeated second, George closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. How did Fred’s trick manage to backfire on him and he was still the victim. “Right,” he opened his eyes again. “Time for my plan B and your plan A.” Fred gave him a wide eyed look as he pointed to the two seating options with you and Lee. Either directly in front of you or directly beside you.
“I can't,” Fred rushed out, shaking his head.
“Rather stand?” George asked him. Fred chewed the inside of his mouth as he weighed his options. If he sat across from you, he wasn’t sure he could hold himself back from staring at you the entire time, he could barely do it on a normal day. On the other hand, if he sat beside you, there was much greater risk of touching you. He looked over to his brother in horror after a moment.
“You two planning on joining us sometime?” Lee called out again, earning a laugh from you before you gave the pair an amused, yet confused look.
“Right.” George said, leading the way to the table, sparing a glance to his brother as he passed him. “You’ve lost choice.” He said, and Fred’s stomach dropped. As they both reached closer to the table, George turned to him quickly. “You beside. At least there if you look up from your plate, you’ll be looking at Jordan.
Before Fred could argue, George left his side and took the seat in front of you, offering a polite smile. He then looked past your shoulder and saw that his brother was still standing, just staring at the empty seat beside you.
Following his eyes, you gave Fred a questioning look. “You alright?” You innocently asked him. His gaze tore from the seat and in your direction. Then to the sweater that seemed to have melted over you. Then to your lips. His eyes widened in horror as his mouth began to open. Before he could get a word out, though, George quickly grabbed the bread roll from your plate and threw it over to Fred who quickly caught it.
“I’m alright for a gu–” was all he was able to get out before he took a large bite from the roll.
Your head snapped to George. “Hey, that was mine. What’d you do that for?”
His eyes met yours as he feigned a confused look. “Oh, were you using that? I’m sorry, Freddy boy just couldn’t stop talking about them the whole way here.” He said, shrugging his shoulders.
You were willing to let it slide, only giving a confused nod, and moved over a bit to make room for Fred beside you, who seemed to be trying his absolute hardest to not look in your direction again. He was chewing awful slow for someone who was just so desperate. Lee, however, was not as generous.
“You two are acting strange.” He stated, blatantly, looking between the twins. Before George could answer, you nodded your head and pointed an agreeing finger at Lee.
“Yeah…” You said, slowly. “Are you sure you're okay, Freddy?” You asked, turning your attention back to the boy directly beside you. He nodded quickly, still chewing. You tilted your head. “You don’t seem okay.” He nodded again, more insistently.
The twins then made eye contact, as if trying to say something without actually saying it. Looking between the two, you saw George’s look become more pressing as Fred finally swallowed his food, then immediately turned back to you, but not before giving his brother an apologetic look.
“I’m okay, great actually. You called me Freddy and you’re wearing my sweater like it’s just yours and you're sitting so close I can tell that you’re using the coconut scented shampoo that you know, well you actually don’t, is my absolute favorite.” Fred looked at you, absolutely mortified as his arm shot out to grab another roll, only he missed the bowl and George had to, again, quickly grab one and shove it in his hand. Fred spared his brother a grateful look as he took another bite. Though Fred’s eyes went down to his plate, yours never left him.
You and Lee met eyes for a moment, silently agreeing that this was strange. George however, looked between you and Lee then to his brother. If he didn’t get him out of here soon, it would get much worse, especially seeing as how you’ve completely stopped eating now and looked like you were trying to figure out what Fred had meant and what to say in return. Thankfully, you kept coming up blank.
“Right,” George said, as he reached to put a hefty serving of potatoes on Fred’s plate, much smaller and faster to eat. “Best not to drag out the most important meal of the day.” He finished, and Fred gave him a confused look. “Smaller. Faster. Places to be.” George said to his brother quickly, before grabbing his own fork and began hurriedly eating his own meal.
Lee gave him a confused look. “No, that’s breakfast.” George and Fred gave him an unamused look. Eyebrows still furrowed, you tore your gaze from Fred and to George as you slowly began eating again.
“Places to be, huh? You two have places to be?” Even though the question was directed at George, Fred quickly swallowed the food in his mouth to answer your question, shaking his head.
“No, not really. I’d stay here all day if I could do it without saying something utterly humiliating, like how when yo–”
“Eat.” George said sharply, cutting him off, pushing his plate closer to him.
“I think we’re long past the utterly humiliating part.” Lee said, taking another bite of his food, trying to suppress a grin. Fred gave him another annoyed look as he shoved a mouthful of potatoes in his mouth.
You were still stuck on how whatever he was about to say was about you again, and George noticed it, and preemptively took a large bite from his own plate. He really was hungry, but it seemed as though a full meal just wasn’t going to be in the cards today.
“What were you going to say?” You asked Fred, and Lee smiled. Fred tried really hard to not look at you, really, really hard, but when he felt your leg brush his under the table, he couldn’t help but to turn his head to you. The moment his eyes laid on you, George saw how his expression softened and knew they needed to get out of there. Harshly swallowing his food, he stood quickly and pulled his brother in a standing position from across the table. Fred made a muffled sound in protest around the potatoes in his mouth.
“Well, we’ve got to go. Got a…thing to get to.” He nodded to the door at his brother. Fred swallowed his food and nodded, but as he went to take a step away, you opened your mouth again.
“You guys just got here though?” You said to the boy who was standing beside you. He was completely helpless.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to leave, especially not when you're looking at me like that because it makes me just want to give you anything you’ve ever wanted, but I’m afraid if I stayed I might ruin my entire life.” He said, and George quickly made his way around the table and began pushing him towards the exit.
“Lovely lunch, we should do it again sometime.” George offered, giving a small smile to you and Lee as he rushed himself and Fred out the door.
As you watched them leave, before the door closed, Fred tried giving you an apologetic look, but was quickly pulled back by George. Slowly, you turned your head back to Lee.
“Ruin his life?” You asked, gathering more food on your fork, like it wasn’t a totally abnormal note for one of your best friends to leave a meal early over.
“He always has been a bit strange.” He said. “I’d bet an invention of his went wrong again, saw him in the kitchens this morning.” He finished shrugging his shoulders, and you nodded your head in agreement. “Lucky for us.”
“What were you doing in the kitchen?”
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After quickly climbing the stairs outside of the Great Hall, the boys found their seats on a nearby bench. While George was trying to plot their next move, Fred laid his head back on the wall behind him. He’d said some pretty damning things to you, ones that he was sure to cringe about for years to come, but he was fairly confident that once the serum wore off, he’d be able to find a way out of it that would only leave him somewhat embarrassed.
But as his mind tried to think of what he could say later, it just kept getting stuck on you. You in his sweater. The smell of your hair. The way your leg brushed against his. The worried look in your eyes. He could go on for hours about just how you were this afternoon, let alone the past few years.
“She is quite lovely, isn’t she?” Fred let out, looking at the ceiling above them. He was usually much better about keeping his thoughts about you inside, not wanting to let on how gone he already was to his friends, especially over a girl that wasn’t even his.
Slowly George looked over to his brother with a shocked expression. “That cannot be what you’re thinking about right now.”
Fred shrugged his shoulders. “It’s what I’m usually thinking about, only now I can’t keep it inside. Did you see the way she was basically drowning in the sweater, my sweater.”
“Did you see the way she was beginning to put the pieces together, too? Or were you just looking over that part?”
Fred rolled his eyes. “It should only last another…hour and a half…” He said, mumbling the last part, looking away.
“How long?”
“Just a…hour and a half,” Fred said quietly. George could only stare at him, and Fred refused to look in his direction.
Letting out a steady breath, George leaned back on the wall too. “We can avoid one person for that long. The castle is huge. It’ll be fine.”
It was like the universe was having a blast with the situation, because as soon as George finished saying that and let his guard down, they heard the Great Hall doors creak open.
“Weasleys!” Lee shouted into the hall, and both twins looked in the direction of the stairwell. Looking at each other, they both groaned.
Quickly, they both stood and darted in the direction of a nearby alcove which was hidden by a curtain, one they were both very well acquainted with from their years of hiding from the groundskeeper, Filch. George made fast work of pulling Fred in by his shirt as the top of Lee’s head began peering over the steps and closed the curtain behind them.
“I thought I heard someone up here.” Lee said, upping his pace on the stairs. Then your voice cut through the air and the twins looked at one another with wide eyes.
“I don’t know, Lee. He was acting pretty odd, maybe they actually did have somewhere to be and were just running a bit behind.” You said, loosely following behind him. You were hardly present in the conversation as your head kept reeling from Fred’s earlier words to you. Had he learned of your crush on him and was teasing you for it?
“Please, when have either of them had somewhere to be without one of us hearing about it first?” Lee asked, as he reached the top of the stairs and looked back at you. Behind the curtain, Fred pressed his back against the wall, already clamping a hand over his mouth and George hovered his own, ready to add an extra layer at the drop of a hat.
“Just trying to give the benefit of the doubt, Jordan.” You muttered, walking over to a bench in the middle of the hall. “Maybe they’re in the common room? Think I remember Freddy saying something about a Transfiguration essay he needed to work on.”
“Don’t be daft, you’re better than that.” You gave him a confused look. “When would Fred Weasley leave lunch early to work on an assignment?” He asked you. You opened your mouth to defend him, but then immediately closed it.
“I guess you’re right.” You said shrugging your shoulders, running out of excuses for the behavior. From behind the curtain, Fred gave George an offended look, to which he had to stifle his chuckle.
“Did you hear that?” Lee asked you, as his eyes skimmed through the hallway. George put his free hand over his own mouth. You gave a quizzical look and walked a little further into the hall. Now, from where you were standing, Fred could see your hand peeking out from the end of his sweater sleeve from a small break in the curtain. George saw the worried look in his eyes, and followed the direction to where they were looking. Once he saw the issue, he pressed his other hand over his brother’s.
Seeing and hearing nothing, you turned back to Lee. “Must’ve just been a portrait or something.” You shrugged. As you were walking away, you saw the curtain faintly move, and apparently so did Lee. Before he could say anything, you placed a finger over your lips to stop him from calling it out. “I guess we can just go and wait for them in the common room.” You said, winking at Lee, who smiled and nodded in response.
“You’re right, c’mon.” He said, then the both of you made a few steps in place and slowly quieted them, as if you were walking away. It was a shot in the dark if they’d fall for it. You were really banking on neither of them thinking straight based on how stressed they seemed to be earlier. Also, if it was just two other students making out or something, you didn’t want to pull the curtain back on that.
Only when the “footsteps” faded, did George remove his hands from their mouths, and they both let out a heavy breath. George glared over to his brother. “You so owe me.” He said, but Fred just waved him off.
“You think they heard us?” Fred asked. George brought his ear closer to the curtain, listening for anything, then shook his head. Fred nodded as he took hold of the curtain and pulled it back, both stepping out. The moment they looked in front of them, they both froze. You both were right there. Lee looked all too pleased and you stood with your arms crossed with a smirk on your face. For one long, horrible second, no one said anything, you all just looked at one another.
“Were you two hiding from us?” Lee asked, giddy. Fred opened his mouth to answer, and both his and George’s hands went to slap over it.
You raised an eyebrow. “That seems like a yes.” Lee nodded.
“Actually, a very complicated no.” George tried.
“That means yes.” Lee laughed.
Fred’s eyes flicked to you, then quickly away. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Freddy?” You asked him, taking half a step closer. Fred made a pained noise from behind the pair of hands, and looked to his brother for help.
George then turned to you, “I’m begging you, don’t say his name like that right now.”
“Why?” You and Lee said simultaneously, looking between the two. Fred’s muffled words were indistinguishable, but he went on for a notable amount of time. You just slowly nodded at him, unsure of what else to do.
“That’s why.”
Lee smiled brightly. “I’ve literally never wanted to hear him talk more than I do right now.”
“Do we get any explanation for what happened earlier, or even why you’re both trying to hide from us?”
“Well, it’s really just you.” George said. You gave him a confused look as you jerked your head back a bit at that. Fred’s eyes widened as he smacked his brother with his free hand. “Not like that, in a rude way, just–” Then Fred tried to cut him off, and gave, yet another, long and muffled monologue.
“That’s not helping.” Lee loudly whispered over to him.
“He’ll be back to normal in an hour, alright? Then you both can berate the both of us as much as you’d like.” George said, and Fred nodded frantically, then he looked over to you, and visibly softened and tried to say something else.
“What happened? He was fine this morning.” You pressed further.
“Just… a little experiment gone wrong.” George barely explained.
“Told you.” Lee said to you. You looked at George to explain just a bit further.
“He doesn’t exactly have private thoughts at the moment.” He said, and Fred nodded. Your face then went slack as you blinked from George to Fred.
“So what you were saying earlier about my shampoo and…” Your voice trailed off, a soft smile forming on your face. He wasn’t teasing you, it was just his thoughts at that moment. At the sight of you, Fred then pulled his brother’s hand from his mouth and his own. Maybe there actually was a chance.
“All personal thoughts. My least damning ones if we’re being honest here. Usually I’m thinking about how badly I want to kiss you, hold your hand, and be the only reason you smile like that whenever you do anything minorly inconvenient, like smile at me or exist in the same space.” He grimaced. A bit much than what he was actually going for, but as he saw the way your cheeks began to redden, and your smile deepened, he found himself much less regretful. George and Lee, however, both groaned.
Fred ignored them both, his eyes still on you. For the first time since he ate that truffle, he wasn’t completely horrified by his private thoughts leaving his mouth unfiltered. Nervous? More than anything. But horrified or scared? Not anymore. Not after seeing your smile.
George looked between you two, then leaned towards Lee. “Maybe we should go?”
“Oh, what? It’s just getting started.” Lee drawled.
You took a step closer to Fred, ignoring the both of them. “You think about kissing me?”
Lee’s nose shriveled at that. “You were right.” He said, already letting George pull him toward the stairs, their steps fading.
“All the time.” He whispered. You both smiled at one another as the words settled between you.
“Freddy,” You started, softly, taking the final step closer to him.
His breath hitched. “Careful, you know what that does to me.”
“Are you trying not to think of it right now?” You asked, your gaze flickering from his eyes to his lips.
Fred followed your movement, and his own gaze dropped to your lips. “No, I gave up on that the moment you smiled at me.” He admitted quietly. Your smile deepened. “You’re doing that on purpose now.”
“You don’t seem upset about it.” You said, watching how his tongue quickly swept over his lips before he answered.
“I’m not. I’m actually starting to think this is the best thing that’s ever gone wrong for me.”
“Can you, then?” You asked him, practically pleading.
Fred went very still. “Kiss you?” He asked, and you only nodded.
With a soft smile, he placed one of his hands on the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair as he slowly brought you closer and closed the space between you. He started very gently, still hesitant on if he was actually allowed to have this or not, but as he felt your hand come to his cheek, all barriers broke inside him.
His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer as he kissed you with the intensity of all the words he’d never been brave enough to say over the years of your friendship. Every stolen glance, every longing thought. You could feel it all, and as you felt his thumb slowly brush back and forth on your waist, you knew he did too.
When you both finally pulled back, it had only been for the fact that you needed air. Fred’s forehead rested against yours, eyes closed, as a smile began breaking across his face, trying and failing to keep it contained.
“That was…”
“Fun.” He said, breaking in, and eyes opening to look at you. “It’s very fun, kissing you.”
Before you could respond, from somewhere at the bottom of the stairs, George’s voice echoed faintly through the corridor. “Is it safe to come back, or are you both still being gross?” Fred rolled his eyes at his brother, but his smile didn’t falter.
“Still being gross!” He yelled back, pulling you back in. At least he was being honest.
The three times Sebastian Sallow almost kissed you and the one time he finally did.
Summary: Sebastian Sallow is fine. Completely fine. Unless you fall asleep on him, fix his tie, corner him during a duel, or get asked out by Garreth Weasley.
Word count: 4.9k
Warnings: None really. Theres a bit of miscommunication and references to violence (none actually in it though)
NO USE OF Y/N OR MC AND ALL REFERENCES TO READER ARE GENDER NEUTRAL. The house can also be ambiguous if you ignore the one single time i loosely gave the notion that they shared one.
A/N:Oopsies, went dark after one post lmao. I’ve got a good reason though! I’ve been writing a Fred Weasley slowburn that’s being posted on ao3 and wattpad! It’s called The Great War and its under the user name sqweasley on wattpad and zumbierum on ao3,, and you should totallyyyy check it out
Available on ao3 also! Have fun ;)
The first time was in the Undercroft:
The two of you were pulling a late night study session in the Undercroft, Professor Sharp’s midterm swiftly approaching; both on the ground and surrounded by borderline useless textbooks and parchment filled with notes from class. You’d both assumed that cramming together the night before would be more beneficial than being strategic with the weeks of prep time you’d been given.
“This is insane. In what world would I both need to turn invisible for thirty seconds and be within arm’s reach of six and a quarter kilogram of troll bogeys?” You asked aloud, after reading yet another potion recipe. “Need to be practically invisible to get the blasted things.” You finished with a mutter and yawn, leaning your head back on the wall behind you two.
Sebastian let out a soft laugh, barely having the energy to internally encourage himself to continue studying, let alone you. “I think the point is to go in prepared, not to hope for an abandoned cauldron in a time of need.”
Your eyes were beginning to flutter closed as you barely lifted your arm to wave him off.
Things had always been a little, well, different between the both of you. From the moment you met during your fifth year at Hogwarts, there was always a tinge of extra affection in the air when you were together. A sly comment from either of you that could be taken either as possibly a bit flirty or simply as being a bit too nice, lingering looks after you’d survived something that could’ve went horribly wrong, or even walking just a bit too closely together in the hallways to your next class, with your shoulders and hands consistently brushing one another.
Looking at you in this moment— messy hair, noticeably disheveled clothes, and ever-growing bags beneath your eyes— he found it harder to look away than he had before. He’d always known you were pretty, but Merlin, there was something about seeing you in such a state beside him, for only his eyes, that was different from every other time you’d spent late nights together.
Was it that this was one of the few times you both had been stressed about something relatively trivial in comparison to everything else. Or, was it how soft your lips looked in the glow of the torch light that shined from above you. Who was to say really.
“Just agree with me right now, Sallow.” You muttered, eyes fully closed now, with no intention of opening them again.
At this moment, with his gaze focused on taking in each and every detail of your lulled face, he was sure if you’d asked him to take on Ranrok himself, he would without a second thought.
He took in a deep breath as he, unwillingly, tore his gaze away from you and back over to his stack of notes scattered around on the floor. “Probably save us both a bit of time if I did that.” He said, a smile evident in his tone. A half smirk formed on your face. He always did eventually end up agreeing with you, one way or another.
You only gave a hum in response, too tired to voice your own thoughts.
There weren’t many times such as these, where you both could just be in each other's presence. One of your classmates was always needing help with some outside task, or the professors were giving out your extra assignments, or even the residents in local hamlets were needing your help with one thing or another. You were always glad to provide help where you could, but you couldn’t deny that you were beginning to think that you were missing out on much needed down time with your friends— if Sebastian could even be looped into that term.
With another look towards you, barely hanging on to consciousness, he took the liberty in deciding that this had been enough for one night. Nothing you read now had any chance of sticking. Honestly, he’d be surprised if anything from tonight had, at least for him. He only took on this late study session with you because there was no telling when he would be able to see you outside of classes again afterwards.
Quietly, he began gathering both of your things– parchments, quills, books— and arranging them in a neat pile. It was when he saw a few of his transfiguration notes were accidentally mixed with his potions ones, he remembered something funny that Amid had done during that class period, one of the many that you seemed to’ve missed.
He let out an airy chuckle at the thought and tried to speak up to relay it to you. You were sure to get a kick out of it too. “Hey, the other da–” He began, barely turning his head to yours as he leaned back against the wall, too, only to be promptly cut off by the feeling of your head falling over onto his shoulder.
He stilled as the scent of you drifted into his nose.
So, this was life now, because there was no shot he was moving a muscle. Not when you were making yourself comfortable on him as if it was your right. He was scared to even take an unmeasured breath, too worried you’d move away.
“What were you saying?” You whispered out, nuzzling your head further into his shoulder. He was so sure that he could hear his heart pounding in his ears as you made it more evident that you showed no sign of wanting to leave your newly acquired position.
He carefully let his shoulders loosen, and moved his leg out to push away the study material out of the way so he could let both of his legs freely stretch out. He lost all motivation to make his way back to his dorm room tonight.
“It can wait, love.” He said, and you only nodded in response. He reached over to his, long forgotten, cloak and messily folded it into a makeshift pillow and put it on one of his legs. “Here, just lay down.” He spoke softly, carefully guiding your head to the cloak. You followed his movements without second thought, as you always had.
“We should really go back to the common room.” You muttered, as you made yourself more comfortable in his lap. A soft smirk played across his face at the sight of your actions contradicting your words. He wondered if there was a way to bottle a memory.
“Yeah, I reckon you’re right.” He said, as his eyes found their way to your lips once more. Were they as soft as they looked? As sweet as he’d imagined? He would give his life to find out. “Good night.” He added on. As if on instinct, he found himself slowly bending down to place a soft kiss on your forehead, as if he’d done it thousands of times before. It was when his face was inches from the top of your head, did he catch himself.
He had never let his body speed past his mind like this before. What was wrong with him? This had to be the delirium, without a doubt. With a sharp breath, he shot his upper body back up with now widened eyes. He’d almost ruined things between you two, and for what? A moment of lapsed judgment?
He looked back down at you, fully asleep on his lap, completely unaware of what had just nearly happened.
He shook his head, and wiped a hand over his face. This could not— would not— happen again. Slowly, he crossed his arms, creating a barrier between the both of you, and rested his head on the wall behind him, looking up at the ceiling. Merlin, he had to get it together.
The second time was when you fixed his tie:
This could hardly be deemed his fault. In fact, if it was anyone’s, it was yours. It was like you knew of every increasingly dangerous thought he’d been having since the Undercroft and were using them to get back at him for something he didn’t know he’d done. Why else would you keep looking at him like that, eyes going from his face to somewhere a little lower? Why else would you be reaching towards him?
“Come here.” You said, with furrowed eyebrows, pulling him closer by the tie around his neck before he had the chance to, willingly, follow your command. His throat bobbed at the sudden motion, suddenly sharing an intimate space with you. He refused to fight it, though. “How’d you go this long without realizing?” You spoke, hand drifting from the length of his tie, and following it up under his collar. Had you actually wanted him too?
His eyes tried to meet yours, but they were focused elsewhere. How could you say that so casually, and without looking at him? “W-well I—What?” He asked, taking all of you in, from your expression flickers to your all too close hand movements, completely unwilling to miss even a moment of what was happening. There was nowhere else he’d rather be at this moment. His eyes once again drifted down to your lips. They have been doing that all too frequently as of late, but they had been just as entrancing now as they’d been the first time his eyes wandered to them. Before he could do something he couldn’t take back, you opened your mouth.
“Your tie. It’s a mess.”
Oh. Yeah, obviously it’d been something like that.
He wanted to let out a breath after that, the confirmation he was steadily building something in his head that simply wasn’t there, but your hands were still so close. He was sure that if your hands found themselves to the pulse point in his neck, you’d never get this close to him again.
But what was he meant to do? You were the one who had given him that look. You were the one who had pulled him closer, by his tie no less. You were the one with traveling hands. This was your fault. It was your fault that he fantasized about how your lips would feel against his. It was your fault that his heart was racing at the mere thought of what could’ve been. Most damningly, it was your fault that he wanted to throw everything built and true between you both in the wind and work towards something much deeper.
Making the finishing touches on his tie, you looked up at him, meeting his darkened eyes. He seemed to have been lost in his mind, staring at one spot on your face. He had been going through a lot lately, so he really couldn’t be blamed.
“You’re staring.” You said, patting his chest where his tie laid, taking a step back. Your eyes drifted past all of his features, and he couldn’t help but feel as though you were looking straight through him. You had to know. There was no way you didn’t. He wasn’t willing to risk being wrong about it though. No matter how much he wanted to.
“Where else am I meant to look when you’re right in front of me?” He said, slyly, rolling his eyes and looking in any direction other than you for a moment. He needed to gather his surroundings.
Your eyes narrowed at him while he wasn’t looking. “Are you alright?”
His eyes snapped back to you. Of course he wasn’t alright, you were right there. Right in arms reach. How could he ever be alright when his own mind kept betraying him with thoughts of you being even closer. He wished he had plausible deniability, but it was all too obvious where his eyes had been focused for an ungodly amount of time. Maybe you didn’t know. Maybe he could play this off.
“Merlin, a guy gets lost in thought once and suddenly has a referral to St. Mongos.” He tried to laugh it off, but you only gave a half hearted one, still worried about him. He’d been acting very differently the past few weeks. “To class, shall we?” He offered, turning his body in the direction of your next destination, hands traveling to where your hands had been on his tie. “Now that I look proper and all.” He desperately hoped that you hadn’t noticed how nearly every time he looked at you, his eyes went directly from your eyes to your mouth.
You shook the previous thoughts from your head. If there was something going on, surely he’d let you know. “Right, yeah. Let’s.” You said with a soft smile, beginning to walk beside him and match pace.
You spent the entire walk to class trying to convince yourself that he was okay and that nothing too terrible was going on in his head, despite the ones he’d already told you about, and he spent the entire walk trying to convince himself that every time your hands brushed one another’s, it hadn’t meant anything.
The third time was after dueling:
More times than he could count, you both found yourselves practicing dueling moves on one another in the Undercroft. He wanted to get better and move up in Cross Wands, and you, well, you wanted to survive in your travels outside of the castle.
So, there you two were, circling one another in the middle of the room, both trying to strategize your next moves. Though, it was mainly just you who had been in that moment. Your mind jumped through all the different spells you’d learned of the school year, and tried to figure out which ones would make for the best combination against Ashwinders or trolls, but wouldn’t really hurt him if you pulled their punch.
He, however, had long lost his concentration on spells and was growingly focused on the deeply serious look on your face. Your narrowed eyes that made him feel like it’d only take one wrong move for it to all be over, your messy hair that was only made worse the longer you both spent like this, and the slight pout on your lips. Your lips. By this point he’d long well known that once his attention had been grabbed by them, he was done for, for an immeasurable amount of time. This had to count as cheating by this point.
When he saw the way you sucked in your bottom lip between your teeth, he knew he had to do something to change the view in front of him. If he didn’t soon, his mind would wander to the thought of taking it in between his own to pull you closer. Maybe your hands would travel into his hair. Maybe you would press yourself closer to him, unable to get enough. Maybe you would push him closer from the back of his neck. Maybe his hand would—
“You gonna make a move or not?” He shouted to you, urgently escaping his mind. It was a futile attempt at best and damning evidence at worst with his eyes still needing to be forcibly restrained from wandering.
You smirked. He was clearly distracted by something. He wasn’t giving it his all, so there would be no valuable information lost if the duel stopped here and now. You took a few slow paced steps towards him, wand still pointed. He loosely tried to counter your movements with his own backward ones, but was quickly met with a wall behind him. He looked back to make sure that it hadn’t just been a pillar, but when it was proven that he was slowly being intentionally cornered, he was suddenly thrown into the acting performance of his life.
Oh no, you were growing closer to him, with a playful smirk unwavering from your face. What ever shall he do?
He mirrored you a bit more, raising his wand to be pointed more directly at you, as if he had any intention of getting you away from him. As you began closing in, he straightened his posture against the wall, wand still unwavering. He couldn’t push past the feeling of being prey that you were hunting. He definitely couldn’t push past how much he enjoyed it, either. As you took your final steps towards him, wand now pressing directly under his chin, his eyes found the very place he’d been trying not to look once more.
“You have the survival instincts of a diricawl, Sallow.” You muttered, inches away from his face. You didn’t miss the way his eyes went from yours to a spot a bit lower. Your lips.
He smirked, not moving his line of vision. This was too perfect, too welcoming for him. This left very little room for his mind to fabricate outs for your actions, excuses that you were just friends with nothing further underneath it all. “I’m exactly where I want to be, love.”
You let out a sharp gasp.
Only for a moment did his eyes leave your lips to meet your eyes, searching for any notion that you didn’t want what he was about to do to happen. His eyes quickly found your lips once more before fluttering closed as he began to lean in. He felt the pressure from your wand under his chin loosen, and he could’ve sworn that he also felt you lean towards him. You both had been so close to one another, he could feel your breath ghost across his mouth. Every wandering imagination scenario about how your kiss would feel against him raced through his mind— he was finally about to discover how his fantasies compared.
That was until a jarring outside voice loudly broke through the silence.
“If either of you have a wand raised, now would be the time to remember how to use it.” Ominis said, dryly from across the room. Both of the dueling wizards jerked their heads away from one another as they snapped to where the voice had come from.
“Oh, Ominis. Hi.” You said swiftly, taking a step away from Sebastian, a warm red color now dusting over your features as you tried to look anywhere other than the boy who was still pressed against the wall. Ominis hummed in response as he moved closer to the both of you.
Sebastian still hadn’t torn his eyes from you, though. He had been so, so close. So painstakingly close. He almost kissed you, and you almost let him. Things were about to change— happen. If Ominis would’ve just kept quiet even a second longer, he would’ve been able to play out the devastating daydreams that had been plaguing his mind since the night you two were studying in this very spot only a few weeks prior. He loved Ominis, he really did, almost like a brother, but at this very moment, he was struggling to find anything nice to say about the man.
“Hello. Sebastian, I actually came for you. Professor Weasley needs us in her classroom. Something about a special assignment? I’m not too sure, exactly.” Ominis relayed. So he had interrupted for something he wasn’t even sure about? That was the final straw. He was now on his list, and so was Professor Weasley, for good measure.
You cleared your throat. “Right, well, I’ll just…” You said, motioning towards the exit. “ I’ll catch you both later.” You said, quickly making your way out of the room.
Sebastian’s eyes followed your figure until the door closed behind you, then turned his attention to his best friend. “What was that? We were in the middle of a duel.” He said, irritated.
Ominis let out a scoff. “Right, that’s what we’re calling it now?”
“You couldn’t have waited a moment longer?”
“I did.” Ominis said, leaning his head in. “Quite a generous amount of time, I thought. I can only listen to silence for so long.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes and grumbled the entire way towards Professor Weasley’s classroom. Now that he had felt your breath against his lips, there was no doubt left in his mind that he was already hopelessly devoted to you—and likely would be for the rest of his days. Every lie that he’d been trying to build in his head since these thoughts began, had crumbled to dust the moment you had given him that small indication that you had felt the same way he had.
The final time was when he nearly lost his chance:
He and Ominis were sitting at the Slytherin dining table one afternoon when Garreth Weasley came up to them and took a seat beside Ominis, across from Sebastian. It was no secret that the Slytherin duo weren’t too fond of the Weasley boy, but it was also no secret that you were. You were always helping him gather potion ingredients for his experiments and were known to be a willing test subject more than once. Because of that, they both tried to remain unctuous whenever they were forced into conversation with him. However, he sought them out this time, with no sign of you around. He was practically begging for it now.
“Weasley.” Ominis said, putting back down his sandwich he nearly took a bite of, before pushing his plate away, losing his appetite. Sebastian looked up at the unsightly boy and held back a strong eye roll. If Weasley told you that he was even remotely rude, you would be sure to let him hear about it.
“How’d you know it was me?” Garreth questioned.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” Ominis said, dryly.
“Whatever that means. I was actually here for you, Sallow.” Garreth said, nodding his head over to Sebastian. Both of the Slytherin boy’s eyebrows shot up at this. He’d gotten their full attention with so few words. Props had to be given. Garreth might not’ve been bright necessarily, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew that Sebastian borderline hated him, he just didn’t know why.
“What on Merlin’s Earth could you need with me?”
“It’s about them.” Garreth said in a way that left no room for guessing who he was referring to. Sebastian immediately became much more suspicious, and narrowed his eyes at the self-proclaimed potioneer.
“What about them?” Sebastian tried to ask casually, but it came out much more threatening. Ominis was beginning to wish he had literally anywhere else to be at this moment.
“Nothing bad, Sallow.” Garreth said, only receiving a blank look in return. He let out an awkward laugh before he continued. “I just know, well, you know them best. You lot are practically the three musketeers. I was just wanting to ask them to Hogsmeade, and thought you’d know the best way to go about it.” Sebastian showed no sign that he heard a word that came out of his mouth, too lost in his own head.
The feeling of your head on his shoulder, then lap. Your hands gripping his tie and pulling him closer, followed by them traveling around the collar of his shirt. Hands brushing in the hallways on the way to your shared classes. You standing right in front of him, dangerously close, wand pressed on him. The feeling of your breath over his lips. Then he imagined them all again, but Garreth in his place. It made him physically ill.
Never on his worst day would he ever even consider the possibility. Now, though, it seemed to be all he could think about. The worst part was that there was no one else to blame but himself. He didn’t have any sort of claim over you. There were too many almosts and not enough things actually happening, and it was all his fault. After the first time he could’ve done something the following morning. After the second time he could’ve voiced his feelings then and there. Even after the third he could’ve stopped you from leaving or even met with you after.
Now, the most annoying person he’d ever had the displeasure of meeting was asking for his advice on asking you on a date. He was trying to court you. And it made complete sense on why.
“Sebastian…?” Ominis said, breaking the silence. Garreth looked between the two anxiously. Sebastian’s eyes slowly drifted over to his best friend, then back to Weasley.
Feeling the weight of Sebastian’s stare, Garreth quickly continued. “I just thought if anything was going on between you two, It would’ve happened by now, is all.”
Ominis groaned. How dense could one person be? Why would he phrase it like that to Sebastian at this moment. “Weasley, you–” Ominis started, but was immediately cut off by Sebastian.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t?” Garreth and Ominis asked in unison.
“Don’t ask them to Hogsmeade.” He said much more seriously. Both of the other boys were beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable at the intensity.
“Why not?”
Ominis moved his head over in Garreth’s direction. “You are a Gryffindor, through and through, aren’t you?” He said, referring to his ever present bravery.
“Because if you’re already treating them as someone you need instructions for, it’ll end horribly for the both of you.”
Garreth gave him a funny look. “Is there something going on between you two?”
Sebastian’s pointed gaze didn’t waver for a few moments, not until he saw you pass the window beside the dining hall exit, smiling and laughing with Poppy Sweeting. “There’s about to be.” He said, standing from his seat at the table and quickly making his way towards the exit. You’re not slipping by. Not again. Not when there was no promise of the next person coming to him before you. Not when there were so many almosts.
Barging through the exit door, he immediately turned to the direction he’d seen you walking in. As he made his way down the stone stairs of the courtyard, he saw you a few paces away, saying your goodbyes to Poppy. Rushing his way over, you caught sight of him from the corner of your eye.
When he was a few short steps away, he couldn’t stop the smile over his face. “I might’ve just ruined a date opportunity for you.” He sang, as he finished his approach.
You gave him a confused look. “On purpose?”
“Entirely.”
“Bold, even from you, Sallow.” You said, crossing your arms at him.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and lightly shrugged.” Trying something new, call it branching out.”
“Branching out into what, exactly. Sabotage?”
“Personally, I’d go with the term, honesty, but I can see how similar those two can be in reference to me. So, I’ll let it slide.”
“How generous of you.” You said, giving him a faux smile. “How about you try it now?” You asked him, rushing towards the point of not only the conversation, but also the reasoning for his meddling in your personal affairs.
“Right.” He said, clearing his throat. “The reason I politely asked Weasley not to ask you to Hogsmeade was, because the thought alone frankly made me feel as though I ate an entire box of Puking Pastilles, and that was even before I imagined you saying yes to the git.”
“Sounds an awful lot like jealousy rather than honesty, Sebastian.” You began to tease.
“Why not both?”
“And what exactly do you think gives you the right to not only be jealous but also meddle in my personal life?”
He gave a pointed laugh, “That’s the interesting part. Absolutely nothing.” You struggled to find the humor in the situation, but couldn’t stop the smirk from forming on your face regardless. “Nothing other than selfish motivations, really.”
“Selfish how?” You pressed further. If he was going to make you wait this long, he’d have to work for it.
“In the way that I know I’ve had plenty of chances to say something to you, and that he still could’ve managed to do it first.” He finished, scratching the back of his neck, looking at the ground.
You took a step closer and raised his head back up with a single finger on his chin. “Say what, exactly?” You asked, looking into his eyes. They meet yours for a moment, then trial right back down to where they usually stayed.
“That I wanted you long before Weasley ever even thought to ask. Studying in the Undercroft, you fixing my tie, after that duel.” He spoke softly, eyes slowly trailing back up to yours. “I’m getting very tired of the almost moments.”
Your smirk deepened as you moved your finger from his chin and your hand towards the back of his neck. “Then do something about it.” You whispered to him, eyes trailing down to his lips.
A cocky smirk formed across his lips. For the first time, he didn’t overthink it. Carefully, he placed one hand on the back of your neck and the other at the base of your spine and pulled you in as close as he possibly could. His lips finally met yours and they felt like they were made for him. So plump, soft, and welcoming. He never wanted to leave this moment. The smell of you alone had been so intoxicating, he hadn’t noticed how your hand traveled from the back of his own neck and into his hair, and was softly tugging at his curls.
After what seemed to be all too sudden, you pulled back from him, resting your forehead on his. Both of you were breathing heavily, as your eyes slowly met.
“That was much better than I'd imagined.” You whispered, followed by a soft chuckle. He matched your laugh, elated at the fact that he hadn’t been suffering alone this entire time.
I’m not trying to say I don’t wanna stay, I just know how this story ends.
Use my body against me - and all of our history.
I hate the way you miss me.
Summary:
Fred broke up with you. He made it clear that he was going to have a new life when he opened his shop, and he didn't need you to be a part of it. You being stuck on him was just another joke in a long line of pranks that he pulled.
And life kept on laughing at you when your fear of crippling heights was triggered by a potentially life ending mission the Order put together that had you dangling hundreds of feet over London, held up only by Fred's strength and determination.
So what does it mean when the two of you land, and he's the only thing that can stop your shaking panic? What does it mean when he's looking at you with nothing but love in his eyes, holding you tight like a lover would?
Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Emotional Angst and Smut. Set during Deathly Hallows.
Word Count: 18,500
Harry Potter Masterlist | AO3 Link
Full warnings list and author's notes below the cut.
Warnings: this is equal parts angst fic and smut fic; the reader is a cis woman - uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; there is no mention of the reader's looks, race, hair colour, etc. in any way; this fic does use Y/N (and L/N as in Last Name); this takes place mostly during the beginning of Deathly Hallows, so there are mentions of dark topics, like death, and the cult-like following that Voldemort has developed; this is Exes to Lovers - Fred and the reader dated for a while during their time at Hogwarts and then broke up; (there is flashbacks in this fic to times during Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix); the reader is half-blood - she has one parent who is a muggle and lives in a muggle city and the other parent who is loyal to death eaters (and there is a later mention of the reader's mother being killed due to anti-muggle sentiment as Voldemort becomes more powerful); there is no mention of what Hogwarts house the reader is in; the reader has a crippling fear of heights (which is a large part of the plot for this fic); mentions of nausea and vomiting (as a fear response) (no one actually throws up during the course of the fic); the reader experiences actual life-threatening danger while on a broom - she nearly falls to her death, but Fred catches her; Fred does struggle to hold the reader's body weight, so it doesn't imply that he has super-human strength or that the reader is particularly petite (I wanted his reaction to be realistic for someone of any body weight); for part of the fic, Fred is disguised as Harry using Polyjuice Potion (but there's no confusion about his identity because the reader knows he took the potion); the reader experiences a panic attack due to the life threatening fall, and Fred helps her calm down; mentions of blood and semi-graphic descriptions of George's canon injury (his ear being blasted off); there is general emotional angst from the characters being in close proximity to danger, death, and life threatening situations; Fred calls the reader 'darling' and 'love' and 'sweets' and 'pretty girl' (in sexual and non-sexual contexts).
For the actual smut section: this is not their first time together as a couple and neither of the characters are meant to be virgins; there is undertones of sub/dom dynamics - Fred is a teasing soft dom and the reader is submissive to him (and there is mentions of the reader experiencing what could be considered subspace) (but there isn't any specifically laid out roles - it's more so one person enjoying taking care of the other, especially after experiencing the emotional turmoil of a near death experience together); there is Daddy kink in this (not until a bit later into the smut section, but it just came to me and I realized it suited Fred so well) Fred calls himself Daddy and the reader is way into it; praise kink - Fred calls the reader 'good girl' specifically because he knows she likes it; lots of dirty talk (Fred has a filthy mouth); oral sex - Fred receiving (she blows him as a thank you for saving her life) (also slight ball worship); mentions of the reader 'choking' on his cock (but there is no major breathplay or breath restriction); slight spit kink (it's a messy blowjob and he loves it); teasing and brief orgasm denial (toward both parties); hair pulling (toward both parties) - not with the intention of causing pain, but to direction someone's attention and to show appreciation and affection to the person; thigh riding - she humps herself on Fred's thigh while she is still wearing clothes; penis in vagina sex; creampie kink (I'm not gonna say breeding kink, because there's no mention of procreation or getting someone pregnant, even in theory, but they are both very turned on by the idea of him cumming inside of her); this could be protected sex OR unprotected sex - he cums inside of her raw but we can all pretend that they used a magical pregnancy prevention method if you want even though it's not mentioned in the fic; cockwarming (reader doesn't let Fred pull out for a while after he cums); I think that is finally it for this fic.
A/N: This fic is titled after a song by All Time Low, which I highly recommend listening to paired with this fic. This is actually part of an idea I had for a much longer multi-chaptered Fred x Reader fic, but I kept thinking about this one moment in the fic and how much I wanted to write it - so I did. And I decided that it would make a good oneshot. And I am actually insanely proud of myself for managing to capture the same emotions in under 20k that I originally thought would take me like 50k or 100k to properly communicate. I think this is fantastic, and it's one of the best things I have written in a while - and I really hope you guys enjoy it! Especially if you like angsty, emotional, exes to lovers fics.
...
Very often, you wondered when life had become so complicated.
It seemed that just yesterday, you were a bright-eyed young girl, dancing around a beautifully magical winter ball with the love of your life on your arm - and now, you were a confused woman who was terrified of how your life would end up because of a dark wizard and his cultist followers trying to overtake your world.
These days you didn’t even have that lover to comfort you through all of the confusion and dread that clouded the world around you.
You and Fred used to be perfect. That’s what a lot of people would have called the two of you - the ‘perfect’ couple.
Your story was something straight from a romance novel - the two of you were best friends when you were young, and that friendship quickly blossomed into affection. That affection naturally led into a sweet romance. When you were with him, your life was full of moments where you felt like a beautiful, flowery, desirable protagonist because of how he treated you. Your life used to be full of laughter, full of smiles, full of romantic gestures.
You and Fred were in the same year at Hogwarts, so naturally you knew each other. You weren’t really friends - at least not at first. You knew of each other, especially because you had some classes together.
But you didn’t truly meet Fred Weasley until more than halfway into your first year of classes together. You had the misfortune of accidentally running into a prank that was meant for a Slytherin Prefect - someone who had taken one too many house points off Gryffindor for the twins’ liking. And after being doused with red and gold paint and tripping over a toy rubber snake that had been charmed to hiss realistically when you got near it - you were reasonably frightened and crying, and it left you the laughing stalk of the courtyard - someone to be pointed at and mocked by everyone.
Fred hadn’t meant for it to be you. With the way he looked at you after the incident - full of guilt while everyone else pointed at you and laughed, imitating your frightening screams and attempts to jump away from the fake snake - it didn’t take you long to figure out the culprits behind it. And it didn’t take you much longer after that to plan your revenge. (Especially because, as much as Fred looked guilty, he didn’t simply come forward and apologise. Too afraid to look like a weak moron in the eyes of his brother and his other Gryffindor friends. So - on with your revenge, it was.)
You figured that all good pranksters should be due to be a victim sometimes, too. If the twins couldn’t laugh when they were on the receiving end, then they should stop playing pranks.
So you came up with something that you considered masterful. During your trip home for Christmas, back to Muggle London where your mother lived, you asked her to take you to a shop to buy a couple of greeting cards for your classmates. The ones that sing Christmas carols loudly when the hinge of the card is opened. Something clever, and not needing any magic at all.
And when you returned to Hogwarts after the break, you found a moment where the twins were distracted, and you stole their book bags in order to pull off your epic, amazing prank. You taped those singing greeters into the back of their Potions textbooks - a class that you shared with them, of course, so that you could enjoy the show. And then you waited.
You had trouble containing your laughter when Professor Snape escalated from annoyed to downright scalding angry as his class was filled with the quiet robotic hum of ‘Jingle Bells’, occasionally overlapped by ‘Santa Claus Is Coming To Town’. It was made even better by the fact that both of the twins clearly knew that the music was coming from somewhere in their surrounding area, but they had no clue what the exact source was or how to stop it. And with every snivelled demand of ‘just open your books and get to work’ - the music only started up again.
By the time they had been sentenced to detention for disturbing the class, you were nearly breathless and your ribs were aching from trying to hold back your laughter. Which, of course, meant that Fred easily spotted you out of everyone else - who looked equally confused or annoyed with the low hum of the music. And as soon as the class ended, he brought his textbook to you, thanked you for the worthy prank, and asked you how to stop it. He looked entirely amused and impressed when you pulled the tiny device out of the back, and proceeded to ask you a million questions about it.
You weren’t surprised when the next week, the annoying singing greeter ended up inside the teacher’s copy of the textbook on McGonagall’s desk.
From that moment on, his crush on you steeped inside of him like a fine tea, developing from an innocent adolescent attraction to full-blown, ‘drive you crazy’, ‘I would do anything for you’, love. It was lucky for him that you easily felt the same way.
Through the years of being by his side, becoming his best friend, pulling pranks together and trying desperately to get him to study - it was difficult not to fall for Fred Weasley.
You had been overjoyed when Fred invited you to the Quidditch World Cup. Even though you weren’t the biggest fan of Quidditch (and Fred knew that). The only reason you had started attending the games at Hogwarts was because he joined the team. And you only bothered to attend the games he played in, so your bias could be spotted from a mile away. But in his letter, with the ticket to the World Cup slotted into the envelope, he told you that it was ‘the game of the century’ and you ‘simply couldn’t miss it’.
You wouldn’t miss out on spending time with him, so you eagerly agreed to go.
This left you with only one glaring problem.
You had a crippling fear of heights.
It was one of the reasons that you never really gotten into Quidditch in the first place. You had absolutely no interest in playing, and even less interest in watching if Fred wasn’t involved. The idea of even flying on a broom being something that made you nauseated and shaky just from thinking about it.
The mandatory first year flying lesson was the only class at Hogwarts that you ever failed, but Madame Hooch took pity on you when she saw you crying and fisting the grass after only getting your broom about five inches off the ground. So she passed you anyway - just barely.
When you set out to watch Fred’s games at Hogwarts, you usually had to take some kind of anti-nausea tonic beforehand to make sure that you didn’t puke all over everyone else in the stands. And you usually couldn’t even make it up to your seat to watch unless one of your good friends held your hand. But you were alright once the actual game started, because watching Fred doing something he loved was a good distraction from just how high up you were.
Telling Fred about your intense fear had been one of the most honest, vulnerable moments that you ever had with him. Your friendship was usually all pranks and laughter, which you loved.
But one summer day, when you were hanging out with the Weasleys, they wouldn’t stop nagging you to join one of their family Quidditch matches because they needed an extra player to make the teams even. And after the twins’ endless teasing, saying that you were ‘afraid to lose’ or that you would be ‘too distracted by their daring good looks’ in order to play properly, you broke down crying and stormed off into the woods, because you were too anxious to admit the real reason that you couldn’t play.
Fred was the one who found you off in the trees behind the Burrow, tears still streaming down your face, and asked you what he had done to so greatly upset you. He had been terrified at the idea of making you upset, so hurt that he had been the one to make you cry. And after he found out about your fear, he didn’t laugh or mock you for it or play it off as something stupid like you thought would be so typical of him. No - instead, he wrapped a comforting arm around your shoulders and he told you that he was genuinely sorry. And he promised that he would never invite you to play Quidditch again.
When you had accepted the invitation to The World Cup, you had forgotten how much your fear of heights played into watching Quidditch as well. The giant, impossibly tall temporary Quidditch stadium that had been set up for the event had been looming over you all day, but you didn’t want to quit and go home because of some silly little fear.
You wanted to spend the time with your friends. You wanted to enjoy the event because the people you loved most were having fun there. So you pressed on, ignoring the inevitable, letting yourself get caught up in the pregame revelry. You walked around the seemingly endless campgrounds with Fred and George, in awe of all the decorations and the different wizards from all over the world, showing off things from their homes. You chatted and charmed along with them as they collected bets before the game. You let Fred paint your face with large, ugly shamrocks because even though you didn’t entirely care about the teams or fully know them, you were rooting for Ireland to win simply because he was.
But the unavoidable nature of your problem became very apparent as Arthur guided everyone to your seats, and you climbed up more stairs, and more stairs, and more stairs - and the higher up you got, the more you found yourself shaking, especially when you looked down to the ground and saw that the people down there looked like little more than bugs. You hated it when your mind, naturally, went to what would happen to you if you stumbled over the railing and fell down all that way. You would splat on the ground, squashed like a bug. You would die within seconds.
You held on tighter to Fred’s hand - he would have said that he had grabbed your hand in the first place so that he wouldn’t lose you among the bustling crowd, and not simply as an excuse to be closer to you. You didn’t even realise how badly you were trembling in his touch as you looked over the railing (still a few flights down from your final seats) with intense apprehension.
“You alright?” Fred asked you simply.
“‘m fine.” You mumbled out the lie, giving him a large, forced smile - hoping that he would believe it.
You knew that if you told him how you were feeling, he would insist on escorting you back to the tent. Perhaps he would even insist on staying with you so that you wouldn’t have to be alone. So he might miss out on a once in a lifetime Quidditch game all because you had a bit of petty anxiety from being so high up.
So you tried your best to push down all your feelings and ignore them, even if it was making you shake and making your stomach churn. When you got to the top, peering over the edge of the railing of the very, very high up seats that Arthur had gotten as a thanks for his work on helping to organise the whole thing (apparently, the higher up the better to actually see the game), you felt an incredible sense of dizziness, and began swaying on your feet.
This was so much higher up than the Quidditch stands at Hogwarts.
Naturally, Fred noticed. It wasn’t something he would easily admit, or even something he did consciously, but he always kept an eye on you. Partially due to a knack for admiring your beauty, that adolescent love-struck feeling always making him more prone to staring at you. But it was also partially due to the fact that he felt a need to watch over you. Whether it be as a friend or as something else, he always wanted you to be safe, and happy.
And right now, your sickly, terrified face stood out like a sore thumb among the crowd of excited, cheering fans.
“Y/N,”
He called out your name in a serious tone that was so uncharacteristic of Fred, something that snapped your attention from staring anxiously at the ground toward him immediately. He cemented your attention on him when he put a hand on top of your tight, tense knuckles on the railing. His touch was warm, as always, and oddly grounding, removing even just a slight bit of that dizzying anxiety that you were feeling.
“Do you wanna go back down? I can bring you back to the tent,”
Of course. Just as you had predicted.
“No.” You easily answered, shaking your head furiously, biting your lip. “I-”
You didn’t want him missing out on such an important event because of you, but more importantly:
“I - I don’t want to be afraid.” You heaved out, your chest tight with anxiety. “It’s stupid - people do stuff like this all the time, right? I shouldn’t be afraid-”
“It’s not stupid.” He said firmly, quickly squashing down any self-belittling that you might be tempted to do. “You can’t control how you feel.”
Coming from him, it sounded like the most firm truth ever.
“If you want to stay, I’ll be right here with you.” Fred added on, giving you a warm, reassuring grin. “But just let me know if you want to go back down, and I’ll walk with you, alright?”
You nodded, hating that even though his words gave you that nip of courage you needed, you were still pulsing with a dull panic. The undeniable reaction that fear caused in your body.
Fred hated seeing you shaking, hated the deep frown that cut through your beautiful features - so what he did next was instinctive. He took his hand off yours and reached that arm, the one closest to you, around your back, planting his hand firmly on the railing at the other side of your waist. This trapped you in a close-knit hold beside him, something that made you feel instantly more secure - even if it was just from the warmth of him at your side.
“I’m not gonna let you fall, yeah?” He said quietly, leaning closer into your ear to be heard - the warmth of the reassurance causing gentle tingles down your spine. “I would never let anything happen to you, darling.”
Between the intense loving safety that he words wrapped you in with the sweet nickname he added on, and the firm cradle of his arm around your back, you knew that you would have no problem sticking it out for the game. But your brain was still trying to cope, your anxiety so incredibly nagging, and you couldn’t help it when your eyes drifted back to focus on the ant-like people on the ground, becoming shaking and nauseous all too soon from staring downward.
“Down look down.” Fred scolded you gently, using his other hand to grab your chin, forcing your gaze back up - it ended with your eyes locked with his, admiring the way the breeze blew his too-long ginger hair into his eyes. “Just look at me, alright? It’s gonna be far worse if you keep starin’ down there. Just look at me, love.”
“Just look at you.” You repeated in a quiet mumble, already so utterly locked in the powerful orbit of his gaze, feeling like it was near impossible to look away from him.
You felt his forehead brush against yours before you realised just how close he had gotten. But you couldn’t bring yourself to mind.
And ultimately, feeling the stands shaking beneath your feet as a particularly hard gust of wind came through and having another swell of anxiety rush through you was what drove you to closing the gap, sealing your lips on his in your first kiss. Fred made you brave, almost stupidly so, and you hoped that you had finally used that bravery for something good in capturing his lips. (Rather than the stupid mischief that the two of you usually got up to.)
Fred smiled into the kiss and George cheered loudly behind him - you thought it was due to the game starting, and when you pulled back sharply to look around for the players, you were met with nearly all eyes in the group on you, clearly gawking at the fact that you and Fred had kissed.
This included Ginny smirking almost evilly before she said:
“Finally. I thought the two of you were never gonna get on with it.”
This left you squirming with a mild embarrassment, and definitely not thinking about how high up you were anymore.
Looking back, the memory was painful - not sweet or fond as it had once been to you.
But it wasn’t nearly as painful as the memory of the day you and Fred had broken up.
He had asked you to be his girlfriend officially only a few days after the World Cup. He wanted you to know what that kiss meant to him, and he wanted the privilege of more kisses from you, on top of the ‘honour’ (his exact wording) of going back to Hogwarts with you on his arm as his girlfriend, making all the other boys in your year ‘pathetically jealous’. Of course, it was everything you wanted, he was everything you wanted, so you said yes.
The two of you dated for nearly two full happy years - right through your sixth year and into your seventh, until in April of your seventh year, shortly after Fred’s birthday, when everything came crashing down around you.
It wasn’t unusual of Fred to pull you away after a class - his hand in yours, igniting fluttery giggles from your lungs as he pulled you down the corridors to whatever secret little spot he had picked out. Even with Umbridge at Hogwarts, implementing more rules and cracking down on ‘fraternisation’ between students, you and Fred still found ways to sneak off to have your private little moments together.
So when Fred took you off to one of those private corners on chilly spring afternoon, you assumed that this was no different. You fell into the natural rhythm of pinning him against a wall, sealing your lips firmly to his in a kiss and waiting for his hand to sneak up your skirt while his tongue ventured into your mouth. You were shocked when this time, he didn’t kiss you back. He was limp and unreceptive against you, and that was when you realised that you had read the tone of the interaction very wrong - even if him dragging you away by the hand always led to making out in a quiet corner, and more than a bit of groping.
You pulled back, looking at him with confusion and disappointment plainly across your face.
“What’s wrong, Freddie?” You asked, well in the habit of using the nickname for him.
Fred’s expression was filled with sullen dread, and it made your stomach twist. It truly made you fearful of whatever he was going to say next, and you took a step back from him, widening the gap between the two of you in the dusty, draughty old stairwell. You suddenly felt too cold, even with your uniform sweater and thick robes on, and wrapped your arms around yourself to compensate.
“There’s something I have to tell you.” He announced quietly, continuing to lean on the wall that you had pressed him up against, staring at the floor, his eyes unwilling to meet you.
What? Had he cheated on you? Did he want to break up?
What terrible thing could possibly make this bright, funny joker so damn sad and serious?
“What is it?” You asked, filling with dread, your throat tightening up more by the second.
“George and I have decided that it’s about time we take our leave.” Fred announced, his eyes only flickering to you for a moment, looking for some kind of reaction. You were only further confused, and waited for him to explain. “The lease for the shop in Diagon Alley finally came through, and-”
“Well that’s great news, Fred.” You said, trying to sound happy and upbeat beyond the tension that was still tight in your chest. You had no clue why he was so downtrodden - the joke shop was his dream, and now that they had secured a location for it, that dream was coming true.
He heaved a sigh, his eyes turning to gaze out a nearby window for a moment before he turned back to you.
“It means we have to leave, darling.” He said sharply.
Your insides became heavy.
You knew it was a very Fred and George thing - so intent on not doing their exams, desperate to escape any further academics. You wanted to ask why they wouldn’t stay until the end of the school year, but you knew that you would get answers about how they didn’t need marks from exams that they were likely going to fail anyway to run a shop that they now owned.
It was something founded on their own talents and ideas, and they didn’t need the approval of professors marking them wrong or right in order to do it.
It was the life they had always dreamed of. And you were intensely proud of them for it.
So why did you still have that overwhelming feeling of dread?
“So - when are we leaving?” You asked, trying to sound confident and firm in your words even though you knew what was likely coming next.
You felt intensely disappointed when the all too predictable outcome smashed you in the face.
“You’re not coming with us.” Fred said quietly.
“Why not?” You argued gently.
You would drop everything and go with them - you felt far more emotional attachment to being with Fred than you did to finishing your year at Hogwarts. You knew that you could be a useful hand around the shop. Any venture helping Fred would be a worthy one to you. But staring you down were the calculating eyes of someone who had been telling you over the past years how much he didn’t want to disrupt your studies with his antics, because he thought you had a ‘brilliant mind’, and you were ‘so much smarter’ than him and George.
He thought that you could actually pull some decent - no, brilliant grades on your NEWTs and truly make something of yourself. The shop was a big dream of his and George’s, but Fred knew that you were destined for something so much greater that truly challenged and fully utilised your brilliance. So he wasn’t going to let you be dragged down to mediocrity by him.
Realising this, part of you still ached. Why was he so intent on leaving if it meant leaving you behind?
“Please don’t be stupid-” Fred sighed, rolling his eyes.
“Oh, so I’m stupid now?” You scoffed.
He hadn’t meant to let the harsh word leave his lips - at least, he hadn’t meant it in such a harsh way.
“Y/N-” Fred used your actual name, something he rarely did, but you barreled right over whatever he was going to say with your next words.
You were hurting now, and you didn’t entirely care what he had to say.
“If I’m so stupid, then why should I even bother to stay here and take my NEWTs?” You hissed, twisting around his accidental slip into something he had never meant. “Or am I too stupid to even work at a silly little joke shop with you?”
Fred scowled deeply. It didn’t suit him.
“Y/N, this ‘silly little joke shop’ has been my dream since I was five years old!” He barked, now taking your heat of the moment words and running away with them. “You don’t-”
“I guess I was stupid enough to believe that I was part of that dream!” You cried out in return, cutting off his words once again.
‘You are.’ He choked down the words. ‘But I can’t bear to bring you down just because I want to be with you. I could never be so selfish.’
“I-” He choked on whatever he was going to say, swallowing it down. “I can’t do this right now.”
He moved to storm off completely, hoping to speak with you later when you both had calmed down, hoping to have a proper, happy goodbye with you before he and George actually left.
But your next words made him freeze on the spot, and wiped away all of those hopes within him.
“Fred Weasley, if you walk away, we’re done.” You said, now choking on tears.
You were utterly insulted that he wouldn’t even fight for you - that he wouldn’t even promise that his heart would be waiting for you after you graduated. To you, it was a sure sign that he was saying that his shop was more important to him than you were. That you were just some stupid schoolgirl fling to him; that along with the shop, he wanted to move on to other women, to find someone that he actually wanted to marry.
You had never been a part of the dream he had for his life - you had just been a passing fancy in his eye.
For Fred, it was all too painful. This was the conversation he had been utterly dreading since he and George had decided to take their leave, and it was going far worse than he had planned in his head. He couldn’t face the pain - he couldn’t face hurting you. He couldn’t face missing you, even during a few short months apart before you did graduate.
So he then did something so terribly stupid, looking to bomb the relationship wide open - hoping to end all of the pain before it even started.
“Good.” He said, barely turning his head to even look over his shoulder at you. “Would’ve been a waste of parchment writing to you, anyway.”
With those final, painful words, he stomped off down the stairs, leaving you to collapse against one of the nearby walls in a puddle of tears - for the first time in a long time, without Fred to muffle your sobs in a comforting hug.
You hadn’t been there to watch him and George ride off on their brooms when they finally gave Umbridge everything she deserved - you had been locked in your dorm, sobbing into your pillow because of that horrible, relationship ending fight. You had only heard from other people later that they had left Hogwarts in a blaze of glory, and you were the only person who knew for certain where they had gone and what their plans were now.
You hated to admit it - but you missed Fred Weasley.
You tried your hardest to get over him. You threw yourself into your studies, and you did pass your NEWTs with some of the highest marks in your class. But then, any thought of what potential career you might take on was tossed aside when the world went into upheaval at the hands of Death Eaters. And unintentionally, you were right back at Fred’s side again.
It was a dreadful thing - being forced to see your ex on such a frequent basis.
The last time being just a few short days ago when he had come into the Apothecary that you worked at in Diagon Alley, looking for some ingredients for a new WWW product that he wanted to make a test batch of. You had still spent last Christmas with his family, at the nagging insistence of Molly. After your mother had turned up dead and your father was missing, and you had to face the fact that he had likely defected to the Death Eaters out of fear (and the stupidity of his ingrained ‘old ways’), you didn’t really have any other family to turn to, aside from the Weasleys.
You saw Fred a lot more often than you should - more often than you wanted to, in fact. Because the more often you had to see him walk into your shop with a grin on his face and bear the small talk he would force you into before he finally put in his order, the more you ached. You wanted nothing more than to be able to get away - to go someplace far away that Fred would never find you, so that you could finally heal, could finally get over the way he had broken your heart.
But the country, and likely the state of all Wizardkind, was in upheaval. So many lives were at risk, and you had your part to play. You had signed on to become a member of the Order the minute you turned seventeen, and you weren’t prepared to shirk that commitment now, just because of a bit of girlish heartbreak.
It was the reason that you were standing in the now empty residence of Number Four, Privet Drive. You had been called upon last minute to replace Tonks on this particular mission, for reasons that everyone seemed tight lipped about. But you weren’t going to question it - you were just going to step up and do your duty so that Harry could be transported safely, and hopefully go on to defeat the Dark Lord once and for all.
According to Mad-Eye Moody, it was all very straight forward. Six of the fourteen members of the group would take Polyjuice Potion to turn themselves into decoy versions of Harry, making for seven Harrys in total, and the other half of the group would pair off with a Harry each to be their escort.
You weren’t a huge fan of the idea of Fred disguising himself as Harry, essentially putting a huge target on his back - but the plan had already been set in place. He had already agreed to it. There was no room for you to protest now.
“We’re not a big fan of the idea either, mate.” George spoke up when Harry protested against the idea of people risking their lives by being disguised as him.
“Yeah, imagine something went wrong, then we’d be stuck as a scrawny, specky git forever.” Fred added on with his usual humorous tone.
You held back a laugh at this comment, and everyone in the room eyed you harshly as you choked on your own breath. Fred smirked, proud that after all this time, he could still draw a laugh out of you.
Your sense of humour about the whole situation was soon stamped out when Mad-Eye mentioned brooms. The group would have to be flying because Harry couldn’t apparate or use any other common form of transport without the Ministry knowing.
“Brooms?” You questioned, knowing that your tone sounded far too panicked. “We - we’re flying?”
“Yes.” Mad-Eye snipped curtly in return. “What exactly about my explanation was unclear, Ms. L/N?”
His sharp tone and his glare in your direction, along with his use of your surname, instantly transported you back you Defense Against the Darks Arts classes in your sixth year, when you had been intimidated by the man - even if, strangely enough, you hadn’t been taught by the same man who now stood before you.
You swallowed tightly, a large lump forming in your throat already - an involuntary, wicked reaction overtaking your body because of your fear of heights. Fred looked at you with sad knowing in his eyes, and you didn’t notice when he clenched his fists tightly at his sides, resisting the urge to swaddle you in a comforting hold.
“Nothing was unclear, just-” You stuttered, breathing in deeply, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t have much experience with flying, and-”
“Weasley - er - Fred, has already informed me of that.” Mad-Eye said, correcting himself when he realised just how many ‘Weasleys’ were on this mission and how utterly confusing that would get. “He’s insisted on taking you due to your lack of experience. Is that all?”
Obviously, you didn’t want to publicly admit to your fear. You couldn’t reveal it as the terrible weakness that it was, especially not when there were so many other worries at play.
“Yes, it’s fine.” You said, nodding, trying to keep the conversation short and keep the attention off you.
“Good. Now if we’re all done dawdling, we need to get to work.”
It was downright strange seeing Fred transformed into Harry.
Even complete with the dorky clothes and the glasses, you still easily spotted him out of the crowd of ‘specky gits’. Maybe it was the years of practice that you had telling him apart from George that made it so easy for you, but he was still so irritably Fred. The fact that he slid his wand into his back pocket - something you had warned him dozens of times would likely result in the wand crunching in half and breaking when he sat down (and annoyed you to the point of you snatching it out of his back pocket to save it, especially before he sat down). The way he reached up to scratch his nose, the smirk on his face when he kept glancing over at the other Harry you were sure had to be George. Especially with the way they were steadily side-eyeing each other, speaking volumes with their looks and having a silent conversation that nobody else knew of.
The fact that his eyes kept flickering to you every few moments definitely helped you to pick him out of the crowd. Even though you were used to a gentle hazel gazing at you rather than that piercing blue, there was still a unique concern behind his eyes when he looked at you from beyond those spectacles - the same kind of gentle seriousness that you hadn’t really seen from him since he had held your shaking hand on the stairs of the stands on the day of The World Cup.
Stupidly, it only really occurred to you how close you would have to be with Fred, tightly riding behind him on the back of his broom, when you went outside and he ushered you to climb onto the back of his broom behind him. It had been a little over a year since you had broken up with Fred, and since then, you had not touched him.
Every greeting had been friendly, but from a distance. Even when he came into the Apothecary and laid his hand on the counter, you snaked out of the way in time to avoid his fingers so much as brushing by yours. You always laid his order on the counter for him to pick it up himself, so that his fingers wouldn’t accidentally brush against yours. You made sure never to have contact with him. And now, you were being forced to climb onto the back of his broom, to hold him tight.
But you couldn’t protest. You couldn’t demand to switch partners now because of some petty angst you were harbouring about a break-up that had happened so long ago. (Would you call it angst, or stupid, longing, painful heartbreak?) You couldn’t complain - not when this was about transporting Harry safely. This was about something so much bigger.
Sure, it wouldn’t be exactly the same as holding onto your Fred (not that he was yours anymore - you had to remember that). He was Harry-Fred right now, so he was much shorter and thinner, and you could easily pretend that he wasn’t Fred at all. Which is what you forced yourself to think about as you swung a shaking leg over the broom and climbed on, wrapping your arms around his waist, preparing for take-off.
It was a bit harder to pretend that this wasn’t Fred when you caught the faintest whiff of his expensive cologne (something he had only started wearing once the shop took off, something you noticed on him for the first time when he came to visit you at the Apothecary). It was definitely still lingering on his skin, something that was so painfully Fred even while you stared at the back of Harry’s wild black hair.
It pierced your heart a little bit more when he peered over his shoulder at you, striking you as so Fred with those somehow warm, caring blue eyes and gently asking:
“Good?”
To which you replied:
“m fine.”
The most terrible lie you had ever conjured - something that was soon covered up by Mad-Eye shouting some last minute instructions and waving everyone off.
When Fred kicked off the ground, you were immediately met with the most sickening wave of nausea that you had ever experienced in your life. You got way too high up for your liking within seconds, the houses on the ground growing far too small in your view, and you couldn’t fight the urge to shut your eyes.
Unfortunately, it only made you dizzier, but it calmed your nerves a slight bit. You didn’t even realise how tightly you were clutching onto Fred, an utter death grip around his waist, until you heard him let out a grunt of pain from his stomach muscles being strangled by your arms with your fingers digging into him like claws, holding on for dear life.
“S-sorry.” You stuttered out, shivering from the pure fear of it all, rather than the cool breeze that was whipping at your face. “Sorry, sorry!”
“I’m sorry!” Fred replied - it was still strange hearing him speak in Harry’s voice, and you were glad that it was temporary. “I should have told them you weren’t up to this mission, I-”
“I’m fine!” You barked back, hating the idea that your fear would make you unfit for a mission. But in a sense, you knew it was true. You would have spit in the face of any Death Eater, but your fear of heights was so utterly crippling. “Fred, don’t you dare for a moment suggest-”
“We’ve been breached!” You heard someone - Arthur’s voice, shouting from up ahead.
Your eyes whipped open and suddenly, you were filled with an entirely different kind of fear. Smoky black clouds of Death Eaters whipped through the sky around you - somehow, they had discovered the plan. And now, they were targeting all of the fake Harrys, firing off curses in every direction, looking for the real one.
They were targeting Fred.
That was the only thing at the forefront of your mind - they were going to hurt Fred.
“Y/N-?”
“Just get us out of here!” You told him. “I’ll cover you!”
You knew that you couldn’t close your eyes now. Of course you would step up to protect him. No matter if the two of you were lovers, friends, or something estranged - you still loved him in your heart, and you would protect him no matter what.
You grabbed your wand out of your jacket and gripped it stiffly, firing a stunning curse at the first silver mask you saw, still tightly gripping onto Fred’s jacket with your other hand. He used both his hands on the broom, gripping tighter with his legs to steer better, years of Quidditch honed skill coming in handy. His ability to be calm and fly mindfully while Bludgers were flying at his head made him a lot calmer with multiple Death Eaters firing potentially deadly curses all around him. In the back of his mind, he thought that Wood would be proud.
You were still shaking horribly, and a few of your spells didn’t land on the first try, but you kept trying. You centred yourself, remembering what you were doing, who you were here for. In your mind, it wasn’t about Harry, it was never about Harry - it was about Fred. It was because Fred had approached you about the last minute replacement, it was because Fred was the one on the broom in front of you, the one you would have died to protect.
You didn’t see when someone Apparated in a thick cloud of black smoke behind you, and raised their wand in your direction, hitting you squarely in the back with a heavy jinx. It was the force of a brick wall smacking you, something that sent you and Fred tumbling end over end through the sky and sent you flying cleanly off the broom because you didn’t have the instinct to grip the wood with your thighs like he did.
You let out a shrill scream as you felt yourself falling, your worst fear coming to life.
Thankfully, Fred was quicker than gravity - quicker than death.
He laser focused on you, and suddenly, everyone else was gone. All the supposed danger, all the Death Eaters - even other members of the Order who might have needed his help - they all vanished in his eyes.
It was only you.
He turned the broom into a deadly nose dive, racing down toward you, reaching with his hand out, and in seconds, while you were still hundreds of feet off the ground - he snatched you. He had your wrist gripped so tightly in his hand - slightly sweaty, already slipping. But he wouldn’t have let go of you if Lord Voldemort himself commanded it.
He likely would have died with that tight grip still around your wrist in those moments if someone had hit him with the killing curse.
He slowed the broom down, turning up out of the dive, intent to get you away from the fight, driving forward. Scarily, his arm muscles were already shaking from holding up all of your body weight.
You stared up at him with tears of pure terror dancing in your eyes, and though he was wearing the mask of The Chosen One - in those moments, the terrified, caring, loving eyes of your Fred were staring right back at you.
As much as you trusted him, you felt yourself slipping out of his grip, and more fear swelled inside of you.
“Freddie, help me!” You screamed, shaking, flailing under his grip, trying to reach your other arm up to help as he struggled to hold onto you. “Freddie, please, I don’t wanna die!”
“I’m not gonna let you die!” He replied, desperation gripping his throat. “Just - look at me. Don’t look down.”
Of course, you were distinctly reminded of that day at The World Cup. And somehow, you felt the same sense of safety with him now that you did then - even if you didn’t have the railing or even the gravity of something under your feet.
His muscles shook harder, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold onto you for much longer.
He had to pull you up.
“I’ve got you.” Fred huffed, straining with the effort. “I’ve got you-”
He tried pulling you up, but his muscles shook harder in protest, and he let out a harsh, murderous scream of frustration. And then he did the only thing that he could think to do. He gripped onto you tighter, and he used his legs and his other hand to do a sickeningly sharp barrel roll, twisting the broom completely around by leaning with his right shoulder. He flipped the entire broom with the hopes that you would get the chance to be flipped back onto it safely.
Luckily, even though you let out another terrified scream, you got the hint and hooked your leg around the wood mid-air, holstering your shaking body back behind him. You gripped onto Fred even tighter then, and one glance around told you that luckily, or unluckily, the fight had cleared off from around the two of you.
Perhaps they had heard you call this imposter Harry by the name ‘Fred’, perhaps you had given the real Harry away and ruined the whole plan. As you squeezed your eyes shut again and shoved your now tearful face into Fred’s back, selfishly, you couldn’t bring yourself to truly care.
The rest of the trip went on too long for your liking - you were still crawling with anxiety and eager to have your feet back on the ground.
Toward the end of it, you felt Harry-Fred’s body shift back into the tall, more muscular form that you were familiar with (somehow a bit more muscular than you remembered, but you tried not to get caught up on that detail). You were more than relieved when you felt your feet brushing against the ground with the landing. Distantly, you heard the familiar, comfortingly worried baulking of Molly’s voice, and you opened your eyes to see that Fred’s head was much higher up than it had been before, and his hair was thankfully returned back to its bright red state.
Molly rushed over to Fred, and there was some conversation, but you couldn’t make it out - blood was thumping in your ears, your body still overtaken by all the horrible symptoms of your fear. The moment that Fred dropped the broom in order to step away from it, you stumbled off into the grass on weak legs.
You hardly realised that you were hyperventilating - you simply felt dizzy, felt your chest aching from the lack of breath; you noticed that your vision was blurred with tears, and you knew that you weren’t getting enough oxygen. You pressed now muddy hands to your face in desperation, trying to usher more air past your lips, and it was then that a streak of orange fell into your view as Fred dropped to his knees in front of you. He had heard you gasping, and of course, rushed to you with nothing more than concern flooding his system once again.
“Hey, hey, look at me.” He murmured, trying his best not to panic himself at seeing you like this - he gently took a hold of your face, guiding your vision toward him. “Look at me. You’re alright now. You’re safe.”
Of course you knew that. You knew that you would always be safe with Fred.
But your body hadn’t even registered the fact that you had landed yet - the panic only now fully setting in, bringing with it the most cruel, shocking symptoms you had ever experienced. You did the only thing you could think of - the only thing that would truly make you feel safe. Something you knew would truly ground you after experiencing such chaos so high up in the air.
You launched yourself toward Fred, pressing your face into his chest, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist in a firm hug as you tried to stifle down sobs. He easily accepted this, his thick arms coming to cradle your back, selfishly thankful to have you back in his arms. He gently rocked you back and forth as he peppered more soothing words beside your ear.
“You’re alright now, darling.” He said, letting the pet name slip so easily that it frightened him. He rubbed a hand up and down your back, feeling your gasping panic all too quickly soothe away under the firm warmth of his touch. “You’re alright.”
Almost instinctively, he laid a kiss on your temple, not entirely realising that this wasn’t necessarily something an ex-boyfriend would do - he was so ripe with the urge to comfort you, the need to make your pain go away. He couldn’t help but take a little something selfish as the empathetic waves of your panic echoed over to him.
“I was never gonna let you fall.” He whispered, almost speaking these words to himself - a sacred promise.
He had regretted every day since the break-up, and even if he couldn’t be your lover, he was never going to let you get hurt.
You gripped him tighter, your breathing almost back to normal now, and you pushed your face tighter into his chest, relishing in the firm warmth of his body against you. This was something you hadn’t felt in far too long. Fred placed another kiss on the top of your head. He was about to say something entirely dangerous when another bit of chaos came tumbling through the garden, distracting him away from you and causing the words to die off in his throat.
Remus, hauling George across the grass - and George, slumped over, a massive amount of blood dripping down the side of his head.
“Georgie.” Fred gasped quietly.
Your head whipped around at this, and in sync, you and Fred scrambled to your feet, rushing to see what had happened to him. Fred lifted George’s other arm to help get him inside and safely rested him on the couch.
It was a horror show.
The flesh of George’s ear had been blown to bits, blood smearing down across his face and spilling down the side of his neck; he was sickly pale and barely conscious. His eyes only flickered, giving you some sense of life in him when Fred called out his name after making sure he was resting comfortably on the couch.
“Georgie?”
There was a rare quiver in Fred’s voice that made your stomach quake. Fear. You were not accustomed to hearing Fred fearful, not of anything. Even when he had abandoned Hogwarts and dove into a career as a shop owner without a single clue if he would find success, he did so without a single bit of fear in his heart.
But of course - seeing his dear brother like this, knowing that someone he loved had been so close to danger - it made him terrified.
“Hey, Fred.” George croaked back weakly.
At least he was conscious enough to speak. That gave you quite a bit of relief.
“How’re ya feeling?” Fred asked.
“Saint-like.” George replied, a tired smirk gracing his lips that told you he was forming a joke - something that was utterly hilarious in his mind that would only make sense to others when he delivered the punch line.
You wanted to sob, you wanted to laugh, you wanted to scream. Of course he would be making jokes only moments after nearly being killed.
“Come again?” Fred said quietly, tentatively.
Perhaps it sounded partially dangerous to him like it did to you. Perhaps George felt Saint-like because he was too close to death.
Both of you and Fred held your breath as you waited for the reply.
“Saint-like.” George grinned. And then he lifted a tired hand and gestured toward the bloody hole on the side of his head before he delivered his glowing punchline. “I’m holy. I’m holy, Fred. Get it?”
Fred grinned, and you let out a gasping chuckle that you knew was mostly tears. Behind you, Molly inhaled sharply through her teeth, running a hand over her forehead with the stress, and Ginny shook her head as she exhaled an exhausted sigh.
“The whole wide world of ear related humour, and you go for ‘I’m holy’?” Fred replied, unable to resist humouring George. “That’s pathetic.”
You knew that if either of them knew anything about the story of the Muggle painter Van Gogh, then they would have been making jokes in that lane.
“Reckon I’m still better looking than you.” George added on tiredly.
“You were always better looking than him.” You said, your voice throttled by tears, unable to resist.
When you turned around to retreat, you saw Ginny clutching onto Molly, clearly hiding tears in her mother’s shoulder, Molly’s face dancing with a kind of sadness you had never seen before. You knew you couldn’t run from your pain. You had known the Weasleys for so long, loved them too much. You had a distinct kind of duty here.
“Molly, do you have a cauldron around?” You asked, hating how choked with tears your voice was. “I can whip-up something for his pain. I do it at the shop all the time. And a Sleeping Draught, so he can get some rest.”
It was true - one of your many duties working at the Apothecary was making and bottling simple, common potions to sell (pregnancy test potions, simple multi-use pain potions, Dreamless Sleep Draughts, cures for warts and other common rashes) - many people liked the convenience of coming in and buying a potion for everyday uses rather than having to make it themselves.
“There’s no need-” George began to protest, but Fred easily cut him off.
“Come off it.” Fred hissed toward his brother, not taking kindly to ‘selfless’ idea of George not accepting something for the pain he was clearly in. Then, Fred rose up from his place beside George and turned to you with a look of intense concern on his features. “Whatever you need.”
…
You had barely begun to set up everything you needed for the brewing when the others finally came in, bringing more chaos with them. Remus accused Harry of being an imposter, which was quickly proven false. Apparently the Order had been betrayed, which explained the presence of Death Eaters on the mission so easily. They had used inside information to know when Harry was being transported - it was only luck that they had been thrown off by the Polyjuice Potion, having to chase down multiple Harrys and not knowing which one was real (even if George got gravely injured in the process).
Mad-Eye had been killed.
You weren’t sure if what you felt was mourning for the man. You hadn’t known him all that well. Not the true version of him, anyway. You continued to weep quietly as you worked on the potions, but you knew it wasn’t specifically for him. His death only served to remind you how truly dangerous the mission had been - how close you, Fred, and George, and the others had all come to death. How lucky it was that nobody else had been killed.
You tried not to let the suffocating gloom that had overtaken the Burrow due to the near failure of the entire mission disrupt the process of making the potions needed for George. When Molly didn’t have some of the ingredients that you needed, you gave Fred your spare key to the Apothecary and he popped over to get them for you. Mr. Michaelchuk, who ran the place, had always told you to ‘take what you needed’, and this was the one time you had actually taken him up on the offer.
When Fred returned, he fussed at George’s side, helping him change into pyjamas (when everyone else had cleared out) and tucking him in comfortably to a makeshift bed on the couch, with lots of pillows and extra cosy blankets, to the point where he got annoyed with Fred coddling him. You always knew that the two were good friends in addition to being brothers, as close as two people can be, but you had never seen so much abundant affection between them. It was sweet.
Molly came back downstairs wearing a plaid dressing gown, with a pair of tiny reading glasses balanced on her nose, her slippers scuffing along the floor. She mentioned that Arthur was already ‘snoring away’ - but of course, she had no intentions of going to bed herself. Because of course, if George was down here on the couch, it was so that she could watch over him while she busied herself with knitting - much like she had when Arthur had been on the ward at St. Mungo’s after he had been attacked by the snake. You had gotten a particularly nice jumper for Christmas that year, one that you still wore often when it got particularly cold outside.
Fred had settled to sit on the couch by George’s feet, and the two had fallen into a hushed conversation, though you didn’t hear most of it. And of course, it wasn’t long before Molly rushed Fred off to bed, just like she had done with everyone else, wanting to give George the space to rest without distractions from visitors.
“-just get her back, you idiot.” You hear George hiss in a whisper before Molly pushed Fred toward the stairs.
He couldn’t possibly be talking about…?
No.
No, he wasn’t.
You didn’t think about it. Instead, you let yourself get lost in the meditative process of brewing, making sure that the potions were perfect. You made sure that George was pain-free and lost to a deep, restful, healing sleep (with a few pre-brewed bottles of the potions to spare that would keep his pain at bay for the next few days) before you finally went upstairs, ready to collapse with exhaustion.
You passed by Fred and George’s room on your way to your final destination, Ginny’s room, where you would be staying with her and Hermione, from now up until Bill and Fleur’s wedding. After which, you would return to your apartment above the Apothecary and try to resume your best sense of ‘normal’ life. All of your things were already unpacked in Ginny’s room, and you had a sleeping bag set up on the floor there.
But of course, you naturally came to a stop at the mouth of Fred’s open bedroom doorway, letting an instinctive caring overtake you and participating in the need to check on him.
The sight you saw made your heart ache.
Fred was sitting on the edge of his twin bed, his posture slumped with pure exhaustion. He hadn’t even changed out of the now ill-fitting Harry clothes that he had to wear for the mission: jeans, a tee shirt, and a grey sport jacket that were now coated in dirt and traces of George’s blood, all oddly short in the limbs and emphasising his tallness, his hands still stained bright red in a way that couldn’t be washed off.
His face was marked with tear tracks, and his tired, dead gaze was fixated on George’s still neatly made matching twin bed. A space that was hauntingly empty across from his - a sign that his brother was missing. A sign of just how easily someone precious could have been taken from him that night.
“Freddie?”
You croaked out, the nickname slipping out in a way you couldn’t control once again, causing him to snap out of whatever distant, depressing thoughts he was caught in. His head jolted toward you, only now realising that you had been standing in the doorway for so long.
“Y/N,” He responded, his voice choked by tiredness, sadness.
It was so alarmingly strange to see someone who was usually the pinnacle of laughter reduced down to this. You had never seen Fred Weasley so sad before.
You had seen him angry, on occasion - like when someone insulted you, or when he had been banned from Quidditch for getting into a fistfight with Malfoy. You had seen him annoyed - like when he found out that the age to enter the TriWizard Tournament was seventeen, and he was only a few months away from being eligible. (You were thankful for that one, and secretly thankful when his Ageing Potion had failed).
You had seen Fred go through a lot - but you genuinely believed that was the first time you had seen him so deflated in the face of the world.
He rose to his feet, turned his back to you, almost as if trying to hide. He raised a hand to his face, and your heart ached more when you realised that he was trying to wipe away tears.
“Come on, let’s get you ready for bed.” You said, moving forward, gently putting a hand on his shoulder, moving up to peel the sport jacket off him.
You knew that the sadness, something he so rarely felt, had paralyzed him. You knew that sleep was what all of you needed right now - some rest to get your heads on straight. And you wanted to help him in any way that you could.
“I can’t-” Fred huffed, stepping away from you, putting some distance between the two of you in the small room. “I can’t do this right now.”
Your stomach curled into a horrible knot as he echoed the words he had spoken to you on that horrible day, when he had broken up with you and relinquished himself from your presence without a second thought.
It truly hit you then - he didn’t want your help. He didn’t want to be near you now. He had only held you close a few hours ago because it had been a matter of life and death. He had helped to calm you down because it was the friendly thing to do. He didn’t want you here now.
“Okay.” You choked out, nodding, taking a step toward the door. “O-okay.”
A hot tear rolled down your face, and you moved to make your way toward Ginny’s room. You were harshly whipped across the emotional spectrum again when Fred stopped you.
“Y/N, no.” He said, reaching out and grabbing onto your elbow. “Wait.”
“What, Fred?” You wheezed, your body breathless and exhausted from the horrible roller coaster that you had been on that night. You knew that you glared at him horribly, but you couldn’t help it. “What is it that you want from me?”
Fred took a step back, as though you had burned him, running stiff hands through his hair. You could have easily run off, turned your back on him and never spoken to him again. Just like he had done to you on that day so long ago. But you waited with your chest tight, waiting for him to finally give you an answer. Did he want to be friends? Did he want you to disappear from his life completely? Did he want-?
“I can’t-” He choked out, clearly struggling for breath. “I can’t…”
He swallowed around a fat tongue, and after a heavy moment, he finally got the words out.
“I can’t lose you.”
The words spooked you more than the sight of George’s bloodied, blown-apart ear.
You stared Fred down with a ghost in your eyes, somehow more terrified than you had been when you had been dangling hundreds of feet above London. He was frantic, rapidly searching for more words to explain himself.
“I - I almost…” He gasped, his throat tightly constricting again. “You almost slipped out of my hands.”
He spoke the words as though they were a horrible curse, raising his hands in front of him as if to demonstrate the point, as if to demonise his own limbs for not having enough strength to hold you up. His hands shook with undistilled anxiety, with anger towards himself.
His declaration gave you that sickly sense of nausea, as though you were back up in the air again. You realised that maybe he hadn’t been sitting on the edge of the bed, mourning about potentially losing George - but instead, he had been thinking about you.
“I didn’t. I didn’t slip.” You replied, the words choked off in your throat, rushing to assure him of the good he had done.
You were unable to resist the urge to reach out and take his hands in yours, steadying his grip with a firm anger of your own. You were unsure how he could be so cruel toward himself when he had saved your life only hours before.
“You held me up, Fred. You didn’t let me fall.”
He let out a huff, shaking his head negatively.
You knew there was something more troubling him - something deeper that he had yet to speak of, or perhaps wouldn’t tell you at all. He grinded his jaw tightly and slipped his hands away from yours. You stood there, looking at him tensely, wondering if he was going to clue you in, or if he would simply say goodnight and let himself stew with whatever horrible emotions he was feeling.
“I can’t live like this.” He declared harshly, his throat raw. “I can’t live with you at arm’s length.”
So what? Was he saying that… he was upset about the break-up?
Was he saying that he hadn’t actually wanted to be apart from you?
A look of pure confusion knit across your features, and in the murky silence, Fred moved on to explaining.
“I let you go once before.”
He whispered, the words so quiet on his lips, a crazed type of regret dancing in his eyes - in an instant, you knew he wasn’t talking about the mission or flying. He was talking about how easily he let you go from his life - the break-up.
“I let you slip away from me far too easily. And it was the stupidest thing I have ever done.”
“Freddie-?” You choked out, more chaotic emotions rocketing through your body now. Anticipation, anxiety - that love for him that you had bottled away slowly creeping back in. But you couldn’t bear to let it flow through you, not yet, not until you knew.
“If one of us were to die tomorrow, I couldn’t live my last day knowing that I wasted it not being yours.” He declared, the pure passion in his words causing every small hair on your body to stand up on end, making you dizzy. “I know that I’m the biggest git on earth for what I did to you, and for not apologising sooner, but please, please, please, darling-”
You couldn’t take it anymore.
You grabbed both sides of the sport jacket and used it to haul him down toward you, planting your mouth firmly onto his, moaning into a kiss that you had longed for, having so sorely missed the touch of his lips on yours.
You had missed him so damn much.
Fred was quick to keep up, letting out a delighted sigh of his own, his stomach doing flips in delight, almost in disbelief of just how lucky he was that you hadn’t slapped him across the face and stormed out.
When your hands ventured down, smoothing across his body - he became even more delighted that you seemed to want more than a kiss out of him. And he was quick to prepare.
He reached to his back pocket for his wand and pointed it at the still open bedroom door, performing a quick spell that slammed it shut and locked it. In the back of his mind, he was thankful that his bedroom had some silencing wards around it from the days when Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes had been in its infancy, operating their prototype experiments out of this room in the darkest hours of the morning. (Percy got sick of being woken up by the twins’ excited voices and the sound of sputtering cauldrons, and put the silencing wards around their room for his own sake, not knowing how much more it let the twins get away with.)
Fred was surprised when you took another fitful grip on the front of his shirt, using it to direct him back toward his bed and shoving him down onto it with a strength that he barely knew you had. He fell sideways across the small twin bed, his knees crumbling along the side of the mattress, leaving him sitting with his feet on the floor and his body half collapsed against the tightly tucked-in covers that his mother had prepared before everyone’s arrival.
He was utterly weak to your whims, anyway, and would have gone wherever you put him.
He was expecting you to climb on top of him, something needy inside of him yearning for the feeling of your body on top of his after missing it for so long. And he found himself further surprised when you dropped to your knees in front of him, settling your shoulders between his spread thighs, forcing him to spread his legs wider apart to accommodate you. The action spiking a sharp breath out of his lips when you shoved up the hem of the shirt that technically wasn’t his and reached for the button on the jeans that fit him even worse as his cock grew to life underneath them.
“Y/N, darling-” He choked out, breathy and sharp through his teeth, an intense wave of lust hitting him all at once.
All night, both of you had been through the emotional ringer - calm determination, fear, possessiveness, mild relief, grief. All while trying to hold back your emotions for each other, balancing right on the edge. Trying desperately to hold each other at arm’s length.
And now he had you right where he wanted you, where he had been dreaming of you being for months since the break-up; and for some stupid reason, some part of him still felt that it was wrong. That part of him screaming that he should be the one on his knees serving you, that he needed to better apologise-
He reached for your shoulder, clearly trying to coax you back up onto the bed with him, and you swatted the touch away.
“Don’t-” You choked in return, continuing on your determined path, ripping his zipper down and tugging at the waistband of his jeans. “Freddie, please. Let me do this.”
You looked up at him with a glassy heat in your eyes that he had never seen before. All the times he had pinned you against walls in quiet corners at Hogwarts, with his hand up your skirt - he had never seen you so wild, so desperate.
Something utterly possessive rippled through you - something that screamed that you needed to have him weak and moaning for you, that you needed to worship him, to thank him for doing the impossible and saving your life. He was a strong, wonderful man and you needed to taste that strength. You needed to know that you were the only thing that could have him weak, quivering, begging.
“Fuck-” Fred hissed out when you reached past the band of his underwear and grabbed his cock - your warm touch wrapped around his shaft felt like a deadly awakening, especially when it had been so long since anything but his own had had touched his cock.
All too soon, he surrendered to you entirely and lifted his hips, slipping the fabric of his jeans and his underwear down completely past his thighs, letting you have whatever you wanted from him. He supposed that’s how it always went with the two of you - he would let you have whatever you wanted, even before you asked. (That’s why the break-up had gone down the way it had - it had been the one time he had been stubborn on something, not simply letting you have your own way.)
You took him in your hand, slowly pumping his length as you admired him, gently re-familiarising yourself with his body, feeling like it had been far too long.
“Did you miss it, darling?” He asked, looking down the length of his body at you with a cocky smile stretched across his soft lips.
You rolled your eyes, hating the possibility of making his ego any larger.
“Oh yes, your wonderful big cock was the thing I missed most about you,” You griped in return, hoping that your sarcastic tone was more than apparent.
“I knew you only wanted me for my body.” Fred chuckled.
As much as you wanted to deny it - Fred Weasley’s cock was a marvel that you couldn’t have forgotten if you had tried.
During your time apart, it haunted your heated dreams, turning them into nightmares of pure want, your mind dangling something in front of you that you couldn’t have. It made things even worse when he would come into the Apothecary, flirting with you and flashing you a smile, showing off his broad shoulders in those fine tailored suit jackets and making your eyes flicker to his zipper in an utterly whorish way.
Now, you felt spoiled to have it in front of you again - the perfect beastly eight inches, lean and tall just like he was, curved off slightly to the side, sticking off from a sparse patch of ginger hair.
Your pussy clenched as you thought about having him inside of you again for the first time in so long, giving you that perfectly full feeling that your fingers never could - but you craved his taste first. You wanted him under your control - you knew part of it was driven by all the fear you had experienced that night, all the chaos that had made you feel so powerless. You needed to feel alive, needed to wield power over someone, something.
You got your mouth on his cock with a downright feral hunger.
Fred let out a deep moan and threw his head back, collapsing onto his elbows as the heat and wetness of your mouth enveloped the heat of his cock - it sent another wave of lust zipping through him, reminding him just how throbbing hard he was, just how much he needed you. This was made even worse when you moaned around him - you couldn’t help but to enjoy the feeling of his cock in your mouth, perfectly full, making you choke in such a beautiful way when you dropped down to take more of him.
“Fuck, darling, shite-”
You quickly became drunk on the feeling.
Your eyes fell closed and you simply let yourself enjoy it, loving the fullness of his big, beautiful cock filling up your mouth. With a hand loosely wrapped around the base of his cock, your jaw wide as you began bobbing your head. Your tongue flat against the base, tasting as much of him as you could while you enjoyed the feeling of him so fat and thick in your mouth, gagging you slightly whenever the round tip hit against the back of your throat. It was a perfect, slow rhythm that agonised him and delighted you, and soon had spit pooling around your knuckles.
The wetness drove him even more insane, especially when it allowed for your soft lips to move slicker against his shaft.
“Goddammit, please, please, oh-”
You could feel his thighs begin to quake and quiver beside you, and you wondered if he was close already.
You couldn’t resist the urge to pull off - wanting to tease him a little. Part of you wanted that bit of revenge, wanting to get him back for the pain he had caused you when he had turned his back on you that day. Though you weren’t entirely cruel, and you didn’t leave him hanging out to dry completely.
You kept your hand pumping on his now spit-slicked cock (it was that slow, agonising rhythm that caused him to pant like a needy dog), and you moved your mouth downward, giving in to the personal urge to lick and suck on his heavy balls. You did want to drive him a bit more insane, and give into your personal curiosity about what the heavy sac would feel like against your tongue.
“Fucking - oh - darling, what are you doing to me-? That fucking mouth-”
Fred wasn’t sure if this was heaven or hell.
It left him stuck in some sick purgatory where the woman he loved had turned into a sex-crazed vixen, but wouldn’t let him touch you everywhere he wanted to most. Instead, he was sentenced to stare at you as your gorgeous mouth teased his aching cock, making him harder, driving him madder with every stroke of your little devilish tongue. He couldn’t take it anymore - not when your pretty fingers gripped around the base of his cock just right and your lips suctioned so perfectly around one of his bullocks.
He wouldn’t waste the night cumming over your fist without getting his hands on you properly first.
He weaved his fingers into your hair and yanked you back, caused you to let out a small yelp - not one of pain, but a bitter sound of complaint as you were pulled off his cock too early for your liking. The sharp tingle of him pulling on your hair caused your tongue to lull out, trailing a filthy bit of spit back to his balls that had him growling.
Before any words could form, he leaned down and used this grip on your hair to guide you to his lips, shoving his tongue into your open, waiting mouth - something that had you moaning once again, and easily following his lead as he guided you up to sit on his thigh.
“Don’t expect that I’m gonna waste it all over your hand, darling.” He murmured against your lips between heated kisses. “When I cum tonight, it’s gonna be deep inside your sweet cunt, yeah?”
You moaned loudly at this.
You had devolved past the point of words now - having his cock so thick and heavy in your mouth only making you fuzzy-headed and more needy for him. You unconsciously canted your hips against his thigh, grinding your pussy against him through the fabric of your jeans, needing more. You panted against his cheek as he moved deft fingers to undo the button and zipper of your pants while he continued to speak.
“I need you, pretty girl.”
He growled lowly in your ear, the pure passion of the declaration causing such intense waves of lust through you that you would have collapsed - if not for the brick wall of his muscled body holding you up. (Hold you up for the dozenth time that night, only for a drastically different reason this time).
“I need to see you cum on my cock. Missed this pretty cunt so much, can’t wait-”
He trailed off in his crazed lustful ramblings when he shoved his fingers past the now open fly of your jeans and into your underwear, quickly finding a distinct wetness and landing on your clit with a firm touch like a magnet.
“Freddie!” You wept into his neck, bucking into the touch as you tumbled into a madness of your own.
He began circling quickly on your clit, enjoying your gasps and other sounds, enjoying the feeling of you bucking so wildly on his thigh. All too soon, he was overtaken by a little pinch of mischief that always crept up on him. The urge to get you back for your earlier teasing. He quickly removed his hand and felt a smirk spread across his lips at the deflated little whimper you made, your eyes snapping open just in time to catch him licking your wetness off his fingers.
“Fred-” You began to protest, sharp demanding in your tone.
“Come on, get these clothes off,” He said, giving you a firm pat on the ass that made you far too weak to his whims.
“Freddie-” You whined this time - and rather than giving into you, he brought up a fantastic point.
“The faster you get your clothes off, the faster I can get my cock in you.” He whispered hotly against your ear, making you shiver.
You hated that he was right.
You stood up, moving to strip your shirt off over your head, glaring at him the whole time while he also began to strip himself.
“Go on, good girl.”
You hated how those words made you even wetter. You hated how easily he manipulated you based on weaknesses he knew so well.
“I hate you.” You mumbled quietly, absolutely no heat in the words as you reached to unclip your bra.
“Oh darling, if only that were true.”
He said pointedly, mourning peeking through that bit of mischief in his eyes. Something you didn’t have too much time to decode as stood to his full height to untangle his jeans from his legs, knowing that you would quake in his shadow and become even more turned on from this.
Once you were both naked, he ushered you down onto the bed, making sure that you were comfortable with your head on the pillow as he captured your mouth in another needy kiss. You moaned against his lips, easily sucking his tongue in as you tangled your fingers into that fiery red hair and gave an appreciative tug. You then tucked your knee up over his hip, opening yourself up to him - this caused his heavy cock to brush against your wetness, making you gasp into his mouth as the two of you made contact for the first time in far too long.
“Freddie-” You gasped, unconsciously bucking your hips up, causing your pussy to wetly slide against his cock in a way that forced a deep groan out of him. “Oh, fuck, oh-”
“Shh, darling, Daddy’s got you,” Fred replied, palming across your forehead and your hair in an almost gentle way while he further parted your thighs with a firm knee.
His words caused you to choke on another moan.
You had heard Fred refer to himself as ‘Daddy’ before - but much like everything else in his life, it was always a joke. He would be buying his favourite sweets and mumble ‘come to Daddy’ before tearing open the package and devouring them. He would say that his codename was ‘Big Daddy’ when setting up a particularly epic prank. (George was ‘Big Red’ and you were usually ‘Darling’ or ‘Garden Flower’. They were not the most useful or top secret codenames.) You had heard him jokingly shout ‘Daddy’s home’ when returning to the Gryffindor common room, only to have the expected laughs and jokes in return.
You had never expected that the name would turn you on so much. But you had never, ever expected to hear it in this context. You had also never expected that it would sound so natural in this context. But it suited him so well. It seemed to only compliment the gentle kind of caring he gave you - how protective he was over you, how safe he made you feel.
“Daddy,” You moaned in return - Fred gripped your hip with a deadly, bruising grip and looked at you with a fierce heat in his eyes.
Hearing that word from your lips turned him on in a way he couldn’t explain. And in that moment, it took every bit of his personal will not to slam his cock into you and hammer his hips forward until you said it again, and again, and again. Until you screamed it.
He took a hold of his cock with the other hand, and you expected him to slide into you, finally giving you both what you truly needed - but instead, he began rubbing the round head of his cock against your clit, further teasing you. You let out a gasp and looked at him with pleading in your eyes.
“Freddie,” You whined, attempting to angle your hips up, fruitlessly trying to trick him to slip his cock inside of you. You knew him too well, knowing that once he got the tip in, he wouldn’t be able to resist fucking you senseless. But he held you down with the hand on your hip, making you barely able to move at all against his muscular hold and the awkward angle he had you pinned with.
“Come on, sweets,” He purred, laying a kiss on your forehead, and then your cheek, trailing kisses down your neck as he murmured against your skin. “Tell Daddy what you need. Say the word and I’ll give you anything you want.”
He began roughly smacking his cockhead against your clit, making you jolt and gasp sharper, making your pussy leak furiously against the bed. You cried out and gripped his hair tightly, almost meanly, desperate for the teasing to end. You didn’t see the way he was staring at your cunt, mesmerised by the sight of your swollen pearl kissing against his cock, glistening, wet and needy. Something that he would burn into his brain forever and most definitely revisit on lonely nights.
“Please, Daddy!” You moaned, hoping the name alone would goad him into giving in. But you knew what he truly wanted, and you couldn’t wait any longer. “Please - fuck - I need your cock. I need you to fuck me, I need-”
Perhaps he was truly satisfied by this, or perhaps he couldn’t take the teasing anymore himself - either way, he finally guided his cock down to your pulsing entrance and pushed in, swearing hotly under his breath when the tight, wet, perfect heat of your cunt began sucking him in for the first time in over a year.
“Oh, oh fuck, Freddie,” You moaned, tugging on his hair. “Oh-”
“Fucking perfect,” He swore into your ear. “Dammit, I’ve missed this pussy so much.” He choked on a groan as he continued slowly inching his hips forward, splitting you open with his massive length, making your pussy ache and burn in the most perfect way. “Good girl. So good for me. So good for Daddy,”
You both moaned loudly once he was fully seated inside of you - you, feeling that deep satisfaction of feeling so perfectly full once again, and Fred so deeply enjoying the wet warmth of your pussy around him that was so irreplaceable because it was you.
Sensing your need, especially after all his teasing, and after spending so long without him - he didn’t make you wait any longer.
Fred began rocking his hips into yours at a gentle, even pace, not wanting to hurt you. From the sound of your gentle whines and the feeling of you squirming beneath him, he could tell that you needed more. He could tell that now wasn’t the time for holding back.
He let out a gentle grunt and you became even more heated and curious as he began shifting around, some clear intent on his mind. You let out a sharp gasp when he raised himself up on his knees, poising himself in the perfect position to fuck you hard, deep, and powerful. Then, he made it even more deadly when he grabbed you by the backs of your thighs, making more air hiss out through your lips when he pressed your body practically in half, pressing your knees up toward your chest before he hooked his arms under your legs to keep them there and planted his hands firmly on either side of your chest.
The two of you were even closer, even more intimate, and you felt him so much deeper inside of you.
“Freddie,”
You croaked out darkly, already feeling him so much deeper as he settled in above you. Your pussy was leaking furiously around him now, clenching tightly and waiting for him to move as a ghost of dark mischief danced through his eyes that promised you were in for the sweetest kind of hell.
“Good?” He asked, smirking at you.
“Yes, but what about-?”
You wanted to warn him not to make too much noise, not to break the bed, which was already creaking in protest underneath the two of you - but he didn’t entirely care. Fred never truly cared about the consequences of his actions once he got an idea in his head - to him, the thrill was more than worth whatever pain may befall him.
The only time that hadn’t been true was when he had made the foolish, heat-of-the-moment mistake of breaking up with you. And now, he had to make up for it.
He put all the power into his muscled thighs (the same muscled thighs that had saved you just a few hours ago by gripping onto his broom and steadying the flight) - and ploughed forward with intense power. This began an unforgiving, hard rhythm of pounding into your cunt in hard, deep, fast strokes.
In seconds, you were putty beneath him - he had you perfectly pinned in place so that you couldn’t have moved an inch if you wanted to, all you could do was lay there and take it. You were weak against the savage movements of his long cock fucking into your swollen pussy over and over again, filling you up in the best way you could have imagined, becoming everything you needed in the world.
As the room filled with the harsh, wet slaps of his skin against yours and your weak moans, followed by his increasingly animalistic grunts - all there was in the world was you and Fred, the space where the two of you met, the place where he had your thighs pinned open so that his cock could absolutely ruin your pussy.
“Good girl, such a good girl for me,” He growled against your lips - you moaned pathetically in return, flooding even more wetness around his cock, making the sound of him fucking into you embarrassingly slicker. “Never should have let you go. Should have kept you right here, right where you belong,”
You wanted to tell him that perhaps the fight was both of your faults, that you should have reached out to him sooner and told him that you wanted him back. That the time apart had been so dreadfully tender for you too.
But your brain was soup, only further stirred up by the tip of his cock poking around in your guts. So any words you could have said chased out of your lungs with every passionate thrust of his hips up into your wet pussy, and all you managed in return was:
“Daddy! Fuck, oh-!”
“Shh, darling, I know.” Fred mumbled into your neck, taking a sloppy, greedy lick of your skin. “I know, sweets. Daddy’s gonna give you what you need. Gonna keep you fucked n’ full. Never gonna let you go again. Never gonna let anyone else touch you-”
Fred’s hips stuttered and you tightly squeezed around his cock at the words.
Perhaps it was a wink of his personal insecurity peeking through. The horrifying idea that because he had broken up with you, you might find somebody else. When in fact, you had been so caught up on him, only thinking about him, waiting for him. (The whole time, thinking that he had broken up with you because he no longer had any favour in his heart for you.)
“Just you, Freddie.” You breathed out, desperately trying to get air past your now very chapped lips. “Always yours-”
“Yes, mine.” He replied, that crazed desperation returning to his voice. “Mine, my girl.”
He sealed his lips against yours, grinding his hips tightly against your pelvis rather than fucking you with any kind of rhythm now - showing you just how deep he was inside of you, just how much he owned you, truly, from the inside out. It was something that made your stomach clench, made your body buzz with electricity, and made you whine around his tongue.
You were close.
Fred knew this - he knew you too well. He moved a hand down to your clit, letting one of your legs drop slightly, and had two determined fingers on your throbbing clit while he picked up the pace again, pulling his lips back from yours.
“You gonna cum for me? Gonna cum for Daddy like a good girl?”
His words, his velvet voice speaking to you so commanding yet so sweet, were what truly brought your orgasm to life in your belly. His voice made the fullness of his cock and the sharpness of his fingers on your clit all the more electric. You likely could have cum just from his words alone if he kept speaking to you that way.
“Yes, Daddy.” You moaned in response.
“Good girl. Come on,”
He breathed hotly against your chin, his eyes now eagerly dancing from your face to the space where your cunt hugged his dick, leaking around him in such a wonderfully filthy way. Clearly, he wasn’t sure where he wanted to look, what part of the show he was more eager to witness after missing out on you for too long.
“Come on, cum on my cock. Cum for me, love, good girl-”
His heated words trailed off as your head snapped back and your eyes squeezed shut, your fingers digging sharply into his bicep as your orgasm rocked your body. Fred grunted as he continued to fuck you through it, his eyes glued to you, taking in every single inch of the sexy beauty that was you, the love of his life, as you thrashed and moaned and came on his cock. It was the most perfect sight he could have imagined, and he easily ingrained into his mind forever, praying that he would never have to miss out on it - to miss out on you - ever again.
“Yes, yes darling, so good for me, so good-” He practically choked on his own words, his voice so thick with lust that it barbed the insides of his throat.
As he felt the last weak spasms of your pussy around his cock, he stopped rubbing your sore clit and became possessed with a new need, becoming slightly selfish now. He fucked his hips forward even harder, determined to find his own pleasure inside the sweet, soft walls of your cunt.
“Fucking hell-” He choked out a groan, dropping his head into your neck again as you petted through his hair, encouraging him through it while he unintentionally sent sharp zaps of overstimulation through your pussy with every needy, sharp push of his hips.
“Freddie,” You breathed out. “Come on, Daddy, cum for me. You’ve been so good to me, come on-”
He let you another loud growl and pounded into you harder, dropping his hold on your other knee and letting your legs rest to cradle around his waist as he blindly chased his own end inside your soft, wet cunt.
“Gonna fill you up, gonna fill you up so good,” He whispered into your neck, chanting like a man possessed, sending another unexpected wave of heat through you that made you moan weakly. “All mine, all mine, darling, all mine, gonna give you what you need, fuck-”
He tried to silence his moans into your neck as he stiffened his back and finally came - his own orgasm hitting him like a firework. He shoved his hips forward stiffly one last time, seating his cock deeply inside of you, stuffing you full, just like he had promised. He gentled grinded his hips against yours in mindless, stuttering strokes while he pumped spurts of hot cum deep inside of you - something that made your body buzz with even more heat and made you moan in return, clutching onto him tightly with your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders.
“Oh darling, oh-” He muttered quietly against your neck as the last waves of his orgasm washed over him.
It was so perfect, and made you feel so utterly connected to him. It was a distinct reminder of everything you had missed - his warmth, his caring, the thrill he gave you while at the same time making you feel so damn safe.
When Fred moved to pull away from you, moving to break that connection, every instinct in your body screamed that it was wrong. You clenched your legs around him, digging a heel into his lower back to keep him close, and he let out a grunt - still dizzy from his orgasm and unsure what you were doing. But he settled back into place, creating a filthy ‘squish’ between the two of you.
“Just hold me.” You said, having no clue when the tears had returned to your eyes, making your voice so clearly wet. “I missed you. I can’t lose you.”
“Hey, hey shh.” He said, leaning up to kiss along your cheek, rushing to kiss away those tears. “I’m right here with you, darling. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not going to lose me.”
He wrapped his arms around you, wiggling his grip between your back and the mattress to do so. This created the most stunning cocoon, forcing your two bodies even closer together - it wasn’t long before he became soft inside of you, but he stayed there for as long as he reasonably could, kissing along your forehead, your cheeks, your neck, uttering quiet reassurances that you weren’t going to lose him, that you wouldn’t have to miss him any longer.
It made you incredibly content and warm. At least while it lasted.
When Fred finally pulled out of you, you felt a deep sense of dissatisfaction and loneliness, which you tried to ignore. Especially because you weren’t sure if he would want you to sleep in his bed - which was something that you wanted very much, especially after the long day you had. But you weren’t sure if he wanted to be left alone to contemplate all of it, to be sure of his decision to take you back.
You jumped to get out of the bed as though it were on fire, and when you looked to your rumpled clothes on the floor - your jeans still stained with dirt from when you had collapsed in the garden, your shirt likely reeking of sweat from the nerves of everything that had happened - the idea of putting those clothes back on wasn’t exactly appealing.
Then, something else came to mind.
“My things are in Ginny’s room…”
You sighed, realising that if you wanted a pair of pyjamas for the night, or even a fresh pair of underwear, then you would have to waltz in and wake her up - and likely be interrogated about where you had been. She was all too knowing anyway, and any excuses you gave about spending the time caring for George or simply having a ‘talk’ with Fred would be seen right through by her.
Fred hummed, and stood, and you were surprised when he comfortably went over to the chest of drawers against the wall at the end of his bed, going right to the top drawer. The drawer where you used to keep some of your things when you stayed with the Weasleys on holidays - and surely enough, a small collection of your things were still in there.
Things that he had never returned to you after the break-up that you had never thought to ask for. You had no idea that he often came to this drawer, sneaking mournful whiffs of your scent - even used your shirts as a pillow case if he was feeling particularly lonely.
He pulled out a pair of your comfortable sleep shorts and a large, soft, worn green tee shirt with a large shamrock on the front and a ‘94 on the back that he had bought for you as a souvenir from The World Cup. It had been your all time favourite sleep shirt, and you had wondered where it had disappeared to when you moved into your apartment above the Apothecary once you started the job.
“I hope these still fit.” He said, handing you the clothes.
“They should.” You said - quiet, careful not to acknowledge the elephant in the room. The fact that he had kept your things all this time.
“Unfortunately I don’t have any panties for you, so…” He trailed off, a filthy grin plucking up over his cheeks once again when the implication hit the air - the fact that you would be commando underneath your clothing.
“Yeah, very unfortunate in your eyes, I’m sure, Fred.” You huffed, turning toward the door. “I should go get cleaned up.”
You let out a small squeak when two strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you sharply back, causing you to collide with the wonderful, bare, muscled, now slightly sweaty body. You couldn’t help but to melt into the touch, and you let out a quiet moan as he began kissing your neck - not in a particularly lustful way, but in a way that was purely loving and affectionate.
“Don’t think you’re getting away from me that easy, darling.” He whispered in your ear. “Please, do come back afterwards. You know I like to cuddle,”
You didn’t think that you had ever heard Fred Weasley say ‘please’ for anything so plainly in his life. But, as usual when it came to him, you wanted exactly what he wanted.
“Only if you insist.” You joked lightly, smoothing a hand over his arm that was still tightly encircled around your middle. “I suppose I can clear some time in my very busy schedule for cuddling,”
Fred quietly let out a ‘yes’ in celebration, and hesitantly let you go. He then collapsed back onto the bed, relaxing spread eagle, still confidently naked against the covers with his hands behind his head against the pillow. You couldn’t help it when your eyes did a once-over of his body, admiring the soft planes of his muscles that had come from hard work rather than a distinct workout routine and the beautiful bit of fat on his lower belly that made him so warm and nice to cuddle. Of course, when your eyes met his, he was smirking at you.
“I’ll be waiting, love.” He told you with a wink.
You rolled your eyes at this, biting your lip to suppress a smile at his somewhat deserved cockiness.
You moved to leave the room with your newly acquired clothes, wanting to freshen up in the bathroom a bit before going to sleep (the bathroom was right across the hall, so you would have to sneak across the way naked and hope that nobody would catch you, but it should be fine at this time of night). But when your hand twisted the knob and it didn’t budge, you remembered that Fred had locked it earlier.
He moved to grab his wand from the pocket of his pants, splayed out in the middle of the floor, but you reached for the jeans first. Your wand was still downstairs beside the cauldron that had brewed the potions for George, but often, you found that Fred’s wand worked fine for you.
Ollivander and other wand experts said that a wizard couldn’t find the same kind of success using a wand that wasn’t their own, but you found using Fred’s to be just as natural, like an extension of your own arm. Perhaps it was because his core was a Dragon Heart’s String, and that heart beat for you just as fondly as his own did. Either way, it was a fine substitution. You unlocked the door easily and tossed the wand back to him where he was sitting on the bed, and then you snuck across the hall to clean up and get dressed.
When you came back, Fred had crawled under the covers and was starting to fall asleep. When you crawled in alongside him, you found that he hadn’t bothered to get dressed, so you locked the door again, just in case. It was a basic charm that anybody could get through, but it would give the two of you a few minutes of warning to make yourselves decent if somebody did come knocking.
It felt like the most wonderfully natural thing in the world to settle beside him, wrapping an arm around his waist while he slept on his back, putting your head on his chest and feeling his sleepy fingers brush across your head from behind.
“Goodnight, love.” He whispered, so quiet as though he was afraid to break apart a beautiful daydream.
“Goodnight, Freddie.”
…
You wondered if all of it had been a dream.
Fred apologising to you, begging for your forgiveness, the two of you having amazing sex - it was something you had dreamt about many times before. It was something you had wished would come true, only to find yourself waking up alone in a cold bed. So waking up next to Fred, with his large, warm body coiled up against your back like a koala was one of the best ways you could have come into a new day.
It wasn’t long before the smell of Molly’s cooking reached your nose - the wonderful fatty sizzle of sausages and the bready warmth of toast that told you she was frying up a full English (likely because she had been having trouble sleeping after the events of the night before). Your stomach gave a painful pang, making you want to get out of bed to eat just as much as you wanted to stay cuddled up with Fred.
You gently petted a touch along Fred’s heavy arm that was wrapped possessively around your waist, and soon, he sucked in a sharp breath as he too began to stir.
“Merlin, I missed this.” He said, leaning in to smother you with more of his perfect warmth as he somehow crowded tighter against your back, kissing along your clothed shoulder and up your neck once again.
Your heart fluttered with the sweetness, the fondness of it all, and you wondered how such a hellish night had made way to such a perfect morning.
“I wish we could stay in bed forever, Freddie, but I think your Mum is making breakfast.” You remarked, finding yourself more aware of your hunger as you woke up more, and more drawn to the delicious smells.
“We can stay here for a bit longer.” He hummed into your neck.
Just then - his stomach let out a loud groan of protest, and you giggled.
“Come on, Big Daddy needs to eat too.” You said, using the nickname in a more playful, joking manner as you patted his thigh, untangling yourself from his arms as you got out of bed.
You were surprised, and slightly victorious when you saw a slight blush tinging his pale cheeks because of the teasing, the way you had used the nickname. It was amazing to see someone like Fred go from so powerful and confident to fluttering with shyness.
“I have to find some trousers,” He remarked, suddenly remembering that he was naked.
“I’ll meet you downstairs,” You grinned, walking across to the bathroom, lucky to beat anybody else there before the others started waking up.
When you hit the bottom stair, Fred was standing at the back of the couch with his back to you, now fully dressed in a pair of comfortable plaid sleep pants and an old Chudley Cannons shirt that must have belonged to Ron. (It was only because of many winding discussions about Quidditch among the boys that you hadn’t even wanted to hear that you knew the Cannons were Ron’s team and the twins hated them.)
Fred was leaning over, clearly talking to George, who was still laying where the two of you had left him the night before. You hated that your instinct was to stand back where neither of them had seen you and listen in on their conversation - but you had only learned such matters from Mr. and Mr. Extentenable Ear themselves.
“...well, yes, I would say that it did go well, but I would still have to classify the nature of the relationship as dubious. Or friendly at best.” Fred said in a rushed whisper.
Your stomach gave a twist. This time you had to assume that the twins were talking about you. Talking about what had happened between the two of you the night before.
“Dubious?” George’s voice baulked, clearly trying to stay hushed himself, but having a hard time restraining his volume due to frustration - frustration at not being able to get a better answer out of his brother. “The two of you had sex and you’re classifying the nature of the relationship as dubious? Are you an idiot or was the sex that horrible?”
You choked down a laugh at this, not wanting to be caught just yet, and resisting the urge to speak up and clarify that the sex was, in fact, great.
“No, she seemed perfectly satisfied, thank you very much.” Fred hissed back, full of sass. You would have said more than ‘satisfied’ - for once, Fred was actually being humble. “But I just didn’t think to stop and ask: oh, by the way, does this mean that we’re back together and you still love me? Or were just scared and lonely after almost dying and wanted a decent lay? Can you fill out a post-orgasm survey to clarify, please, and make sure to-”
An arm came up from the couch with a pillow, smacking Fred clear in the chest - hard enough to force a small grunt out of him. George was certainly feeling better. You were glad to know that your potions had done him some good.
“You should have just asked, you numpty!” George scolded him. “You’ve been mooning over losing her for-”
“Y/N,” Fred cut off his twin’s words by saying your name, announcing your presence as that smack with the pillow had caused him to finally turn his head and spot you there.
“Fred.” You grinned, not at all ashamed that you had been caught.
You walked over to the couch, leaning over to find George grinning at you in a way that said he was holding back a barrage of stomach shaking laughter because of the conversation you had caught the two of them in.
“For the record, I would call the sex more than satisfactory.” You said, a mischievous grin coming over your lips. “And I do still love you.” You announced, turning toward Fred. “I was lonely and scared last night, but that’s why I came to you. You’re the only person I want to go to when I feel that way. I missed you. And I want you back if you’ll have me.”
“Merlin, of course I’ll have you.” Fred breathed out a sigh of relief, now grinning as well. “I love you more than anything, darling. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
“I have some idea, and it was bloody annoying.” George muttered out, only to be ignored.
You leaned in for a kiss, naturally, but just as Fred’s lips brushed yours, George let out a loud, fake gagging sound - one that had Molly running into the room, clearly fretting and worried that George was actually ill.
“I’m fine, Mum.” George groaned as Molly began patting down his head with a wet cloth - clearly, his night had been filled by the annoying, but loving fuss of his mother watching over him.
“Yes, yes of course.” Molly nodded, hesitantly putting the cloth down. “It’s time for breakfast anyway - do you feel up for sitting at the table, dear?”
“I would love to get off this bloody couch.” George groaned.
Fred rushed around to help him up, and after a moment of struggle to his feet, you grabbed his other arm to help him along into the kitchen.
“I suppose it all worked out for the better.” George said, smiling at you. “Even if you did end up with the less attractive twin.”
You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile at this.
...
A/N: This fic is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. This is a capsule story meant to be read independently, and in terms of the narrative, there will not be a continuation. If you are going to leave a comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written here, do not comment asking for more. If you would like to read more of my fics, please take a look at my Harry Potter Masterlist, more specifically, my other Fred Weasley fic - Kisses Like Fire Whiskey. Thank you if you have gotten this far, and happy reading!
a/n: this is my first time publishing, so please be nice :)
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It had been several months since the Battle of Hogwarts.
It had been several months since the last time you saw him.
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You had almost broken the facade. Rushing to the bathroom, you place both hands on the sink in front of you, attempting to catch your breath. Attempting to push it all back down. Letting out an unsteady sigh, you look up and take in your appearance in the bathroom mirror. You see it. The obvious weight loss, the drained expression in your face that the make-up did a poor job of hiding, the thin silver bracelet. As quickly as your eyes settled on the piece, they had darted straight back to your face. You flashed your practiced smile in the mirror, then immediately dropped it.
“I can practically hear you laughing,” You said to no one, really, with closed eyes, “don’t need that right now.”
Whenever you were at a Weasley gathering, you tried your best to hold it all together. Often repeatedly iterating to yourself that it was only for a few hours. Though, you're sure that’s what everyone was telling themselves.
You give yourself a final look over, then exit the room, integrating yourself back into the mass.
Since the event, you had found it progressively harder to be around his family. You, unsurprisingly, seen him in each of his family members. Molly’s eyes. Aurther’s word choices. The shape of Ginny’s smile. So on and so forth. It was all too easy to get overwhelmed. There’s always a constant reminder, somewhere, of the one person who was missing. You needed a break, or you were going to.
With a smaller, practiced smile on your face, you make your way over to join Hermione and Ginny’s conversation. They had barely even glanced at you before moving to make space.
“Anyways, that was the real reason Dean and I broke it off. Don’t tell Harry.” Ginny giggled as she finished the story you had missed during your “break”.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
The girls shared glances between themselves to you, before Hermione spoke up.
“So, what have you been up to since last month? Heard you were considering helping George and Ron at the shop?” She questioned in a way that makes it all sound so simple. Your eyes shot up from whatever you were spaced out on and met her eyes. Eyes filled with concern. The only kind you really seen nowadays. You give a soft smile and nod.
“Oh, well, yeah. I’ve been helping them out quite a bit actually. Whoever was over the books before me really had no idea what they were doing. I’ve just been fixing their mistakes and keeping up with anything new to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” You smile while shaking your head, looking back at the floor.
They knew. Of course, they knew who was over the books before you. He had all but begged Hermione himself to do it from the day the shop opened. After that, the conversations passed in a blur, and consequently, so did the better part of the night.
“Ladies,” George started, lightly breaking into the conversation. “D’ya mind if I steal her away? It’s getting pretty late and we have to be at the shop early in the morning.”
The most shocking aspect of the whole transition period was yours and George’s dynamic. In the beginning, you both avoided one another. No malicious intent, quite the opposite. You both had thought you would do more harm than good for the other, but then there was one night that was far worse than the rest for both of you. Exactly one month after Fred’s passing.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
His parents had him buried on the far end of their property line, along with the many other late family members.
It was abnormally cool for a June evening, and the grass was already damp with the overnight dew. Though none of this had stopped you from laying on top of Fred Weasley’s grave. As close as you could ever be to him again. There were no tears or a trail of words leaving your mouth that you had left unspoken, finally leaving your lips. There was just you and what was left of him.
Truthfully, you hadn’t yet realized it was the first month anniversary. There was just a new and overwhelming ache to be near him again, and who were you to fight it?
Zoned out, with a blade of grass between your fingers, you didn’t notice a shadow coming closer through the moonlight. Until you did. Your breath was lost in your throat as you met eyes with George.
“Bit cold to be wearing just pajamas, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t notice.”
He let out a breathy laugh before handing you a spare jumper from their house. It was Bill’s and you were thankful. Taking it from his hands, you raise yourself to put it on before laying back down. There was a soft look in his eyes that you would never see; one that he wasn’t sure he’d ever give someone again. Slowly, he sat in the field beside your, seemingly, relaxed form, and looked up at the stars above.
“Mum had me bring it out to you. Heard you come in through the floo.” He softly looked back down at you, still focused on the blade of grass more than anything else. “Tried telling her that I was probably the last person you’d want to see, but you know her,” he trailed off. A soft smile etched itself across your face, and you let out a huff.
“I’m aware. She did something similar when him and I were in a tough spot a couple of summers ago.”
He smiled at the memory. There was tension in the air, only intensified by the silence surrounding you two. Slowly, you sat up and mirrored him. Finally, taking him in, you see he looks no better than you do. You grab his hand to ground yourself for the conversation. He slowly looks up to you, so as not to startle you.
“George, I don’t--,” you started, already feeling the knot form in your throat, “Every single time I look at you, there’s this split second,” you look back at the ground, “and I swear, it’s him.”
He squeezes your hand.
“You know, I’m no better when it comes to you,” He shifts and focuses his eyes on your hand in his and starts mindlessly toying with your fingers as he continues. “you two have always been more similar than willing to admit. Same nervous habits, same recklessness that I’m for some reason cursed with managing.” He smiles and nudges your shoulder slightly, earning a smile from you. “And... you both notice everything about bloody everything. I always said it would be your guy’s downfall.” He finished more seriously. He knew the second that you walked into the scene that you would never be the same, because he knew if roles were reversed, Fred wouldn’t have either. Whichever of the two of you that would be the last one standing would be merely surviving until their own time came.
Fred and George may have shared a face, but you and Fred shared a soul.
He cleared his throat before continuing, “Whenever I see you, I see him too.”
You look back up at the man in front of you. All you see is George Weasley, grieving. The person who you’ve always gone to for advice, not knowing the next steps. Someone who is just as lost as you; the only person who is just as lost as you.
You move closer to him, pulling him into a deep hug where you both break.
The once quiet field, now wretched with the sobs of two people missing their other half. Neither one of you cared any longer about looking strong for the other, just desperately holding on to the littlest bit of him you had left.
After longer than either of you would admit, you both settled into each other's arms, eyes fixated on the headstone that was now in front of you.
Clearing his throat once more, he broke away from you and reached into his pocket, pulling out a long black box.
“He had,” George let out a shaky breath, “He got this for you, you know, before, for your birthday. I think it’s best if you have it now, though. Bloke spent ages picking out the right one, even though they all looked the same to me. Said you mentioned once how you didn’t like how rings felt on your fingers.” He handed you the box.
Opening it, a note had fallen out before you could see what was in it. You looked up at George, who just shrugged his shoulders in response, being just as new to him. You open the note and both look over it together. You were sure if there were any tears left in you, they would be free flowing down your face again.
“Darling,
Love,
From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew I was going to marry you. Ask Ginny, she was there when I said it. You had marched right up to me after I had accidentally pranked you, all covered in green soot, and properly chewed my head off for it. I couldn’t even tell you the first words you spoke to me, I was too busy thanking Merlin for putting you right in front of me. As you know, I spent much too long, as you would say, trying to get in your good graces. I remember there was a point where George told me that it was starting to get pathetic. You’ll never understand how happy I was when you had finally let me buy you a butterbeer from Hogsmeade and actually sat with me past my apologies. I had wished that night would never end. I’d like to think we’ve worked past that. Now, I am humbly asking, for the love of Godric, if you would like to be my wife and let us create many more, and hopefully much better, memories together, for the rest of our lives?
Something like that.
If she says no, jump out of the nearest window. If she says yes, MARRY HER.”
You look up and lock your eyes on the headstone, a smirk etched on your face, and you turn to George. He looks at you as if he’s waiting for you to break again, ready to pick up the pieces of your broken heart once more for his brother. No tears came.
“He edited the absolute hell out of this, and I still bet these words would’ve never left his mouth.” You smile back down at the note, and hear George let out a laugh.
You open the long box and are met with the most beautiful, thin-chained silver bracelet. To be loved is to be seen, and you’ve never felt more seen than this moment. George takes it from its box and puts it on your wrist for you. Mumbling about how Fred would kill him if he had let you do it yourself.
It glimmers in what’s left of the moonlight. Soft smiles rest on both of your faces.
“Alright,” George starts standing up, then offers you a hand, “I should be getting you to bed. If not him, I know Mum will have a thing or two to say about me leaving you out in the cold for too long.” He finishes, and you grab his hand. Before you two head towards the house, you press a soft kiss on Fred’s headstone and whisper an,
“I love you, always.”
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
“Of course not, we’ll see you guys some other time. Bye, be safe!” Ginny says as both her and Hermione wave you two good-bye.
After telling the rest of the Weasley family good-bye, you both step out into the cool October air. You look up at the sky, noting how it looks exactly as it did the night George came to you alone in the field. As you both walk towards his car, you start toying with the bracelet.
“I don’t think I could do this without you.” You say to him as he opens the door for you.
“I know I couldn’t without you. I need at least one person to keep an eye on.” He jokes, leaning on the car door.
“I don’t see him in you anymore,”
“Me neither, love. C’mon let me get you to your flat before it gets too late.” He smiles, closing the door after you had. settled yourself.
You both knew those were lies.
You both knew you were missing your other half and finding solace in one another.
Fred, George, and Lee have been avoiding you all day and you’ve had enough. When you blackmail your way into the Gryffindor common room to confront them, you don’t expect Fred to start bombarding you with strange compliments. You definitely don’t expect what comes next.
———————————————————————
It started at breakfast. You were late because you’d overslept after a long night studying, your robes slightly askew, one sock not matching the other. Your hair was still damp from a rushed spell, but you didn’t care, because you spotted them instantly. Fred, George, and Lee. They had been your best friends since First year.
They were clustered near the middle of the Gryffindor table, heads bowed together in hushed laughter over something probably dangerous and definitely not approved by any adult with a brain. It was your favorite thing about them, really. The way chaos seemed to orbit around them like they were made of gravity that specifically attracted trouble. It made life interesting.
Your feet were already moving toward them before you realised. Fred looked up just as you reached the bench, mid-laugh, his eyes bright. Something about that made your stomach flutter in that embarrassing way it always did when he looked at you like that. You’d harboured a very secret crush on the boy since Fourth year when he’d sent you a Dwarf-Valentine.
You’d been upset that no one had been interested in giving you one, so to cheer you up he’d gotten you one telling you what a great friend and excellent witch you were. The thoughtfulness and unexpected sweetness of the gesture had you falling head over heels in no time. You’d been a goner since then.
You smiled and slid onto the bench. “What’d I miss?”
Fred blinked, mouth opening like he had something to say, then he glanced to George. George’s eyebrows twitched once, a silent message passed between the brothers in a blink.
“Actually,” George said, shooting upright and clapping his hands together, “we’ve got to go.”
“Go?” you echoed, laughing lightly. “Where?”
“Greenhouse,” Lee added, already pushing back from the bench.
“Heard something’s exploding,” George said quickly, grabbing a cold slice of toast. “Don’t want to miss it!”
Before you could blink, they were out the doors, laughing again as they vanished. You sat there, alone on the bench, staring at their empty seats.
Weird.
You stabbed your spoon into your porridge with a little more force than necessary, but it wasn’t enough to set off alarm bells just yet. After all, the boys were always hurrying off to execute elaborate pranks.
Later that day, after double potions, was when you started to notice something might be amiss.
Snape had been especially vicious that day, stalking around the room like a bloodhound with something to prove. Fred had dropped a beaker, causing it to explode. Snape’s robes were still faintly steaming when Fred had the gall to tell Snape his hair was looking particularly greasy today, which earned him a detention and a deduction of 10 points from Gryffindor.
Still, the class had ended. And you’d hoped - expected - you’d walk to Care of Magical Creatures with the boys like always. You’d been paired with a Hufflepuff this time in class, but you packed up fast and trotted after the trio as they left the dungeon.
You caught them in the hallway just beyond the staircase. “Oi! Wait up!” you called.
Lee turned, smile flickering across his face. “Hey! That was brutal, yeah?”
“Snape nearly swallowed his tongue when your beaker shattered,” you teased, nudging Fred.
The Weasley boy laughed, but it was tight sounding and shorter than usual. His hand scrubbed through his hair like he didn’t know what to do with his limbs.
“Actually,” George said suddenly, “we need to check on something.”
“In the greenhouse,” Lee said smoothly, already pulling Fred’s arm.
You frowned. “Didn’t you just go there? At breakfast?”
George nodded, too quickly. “Y-yeah, but, different thing. Something with the…mandrakes.”
“Mandrakes?” you echoed sceptically. “What could you possibly need with those? They scream bloody murder when you touch them.”
“Right,” George said. “So we have to touch them very carefully.”
Fred gave you a quick, apologetic look. His eyes darted down, his cheeks flushing a little before he let himself be pulled away again. You watched them disappear around the corner, your chest tightening and your breath catching on a question you couldn’t quite ask.
———————————————————————
You didn’t plan to stalk them. You just happened to overhear Fred telling Angelina that he’d be in the library during free period doing ‘research’.
Fred Weasley? Research? As if. It was obviously a lie. Or a cover up. But part of you still clung to the hope that maybe it was all in your head and they weren’t avoiding you.
You brought a few books to make it look casual. You waited outside the doors, leaning against the wall, your ear tilted toward the hushed shuffle of pages and whispers inside. You stared at the flickering torchlight against the stone and reminded yourself not to be weird. Not to be clingy. They’d come out and you’d walk together, like always.
Then, there was movement. You spotted them sneaking out a side entrance. All three of them - Fred, George, and Lee - hunched over like they were avoiding Filch, looking side to side before scuttling toward the Charms corridor.
Your heart sank. They hadn’t seen you, and you didn’t bother calling out to them. You just stared as their silhouettes faded into the shadows, a cold feeling settling in your throat. It was obvious they were up to something, which was not the usual part. The usual part was that the four of you were always up to something together. So why had hey left you out?
Your fingers clenched around your books so tightly the parchment covers creased.
Later that afternoon in Transfiguration was the worst one yet. That was when you finally admitted to yourself that they were actively avoiding you. You were sat at your usual desk, which you normally shared with Fred. You were pretending to study while the classroom filled up, but you couldn’t focus on any of the words your eyes skimmed over.
You felt…off. Like you were waiting for something you couldn’t admit to wanting. Not without sounding clingy or crazy. You heard the door swing open again and your head snapped up quickly.
Fred stepped in, his scarf askew, hair wind-blown, and cheeks flushed pink from the cold. His eyes landed on you - or more accurately on the empty seat beside you waiting expectantly for him to occupy it - and he froze. The hope that had bubbled up in your chest fizzled out instantly.
He looked guilty. You knew all of his expressions like the back of your hand, so you knew it wasn’t his surprised face. Or his excited face. Not even his sheepish face. He looked guilty.
“Hey!” you said, forcing cheer into your voice but trying not to sound too eager. “I’ve been looking for—”
“He forgot something!” George shouted from beside Fred, far louder than necessary.
“What?” You frowned.
He turned to Fred, patting his arm. “Right? You forgot something important!”
Lee immediately stepped forward, grabbing the older twin’s. “Yes, very urgent.”
They turned and ran. Actually ran away. You sat there, your skin prickling with heat. Your face felt like it had been slapped. It hadn’t been a dramatic rejection, or even a cruel one. You’d just been…dismissed. Like you didn’t matter.
You stood up slowly, your vision stinging. Anger pulsed beneath the surface. This wasn’t a coincidence anymore. This had to be on purpose. Something cracked inside you, and you’d already started scheming up a little plot of your own.
It took you less than five minutes after Transfiguration to find Neville Longbottom. The last person who’d made it into the Gryffindor common room had done so through him, so it only made sense for you to start there as well.
“AHHH!” Neville thrashed against your hold like he’d just been attacked by an acromantula.
You hushed him as you dragged him into the nearest broom closet, shutting the door behind you two with a slam. “Shut up!”
Neville just kept screaming.
“Calm down, Longbottom. No one’s dying!” You soothed, though there was an edge of annoyance in your tone. “Well, maybe I am. Of frustration.”
Neville finally stopped yelling for help and blinked at you in confusion.
“I need access to the Gryffindor common room.” You explained.
“You’re not even in our house!”
“Technically no, but I’ve been in there loads of times.” You justified your intrusion.
“Then ask one of your friends to let you in,” Neville reasoned.
“No, they’re the reason I need to get in. They’ve been avoiding me, and I want to know why.” You explained, but that didn’t seem to even remotely set Neville’s mind at ease.
“I’ll get in trouble—!”
You leaned in close. “Let me put it this way. If you don’t help me, I will mention to Professor Sprout that you’ve been growing screaming fungi under your bed again. Oh yes, Lee told me all about that.”
Neville paled. “You wouldn’t.”
You smiled. “Try me.”
———————————————————————
The corridors of Hogwarts were never easy to navigate, especially when one was flustered and humiliated. But you didn’t care about getting caught out after curfew anymore. Not tonight. Not when your pride had already taken enough of a beating.
Your legs carried you at an angry pace through the darkened castle, one hand gripping your wand and the other dragging poor, wide-eyed Neville Longbottom along behind you by the wrist.
“Honestly, I didn’t think you were this mean,” Neville whimpered.
“I’m not mean,” you snapped, hair wild and heart pounding. “I’m just…desperate. Which i know sounds pathetic when I say it out loud, it I promise I have a good reason.”
When you reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, you planted your feet and stared down the guardian with narrowed eyes. “Let us in.”
“She’s not a Gryffindor,” the portrait sniffed.
“She’s got more nerve than me, that’s for sure,” Neville muttered.
“Password?” she said curtly.
You looked to Neville and the boy muttered weakly, eyes cast downwards, “Treacle Tart.”
The portrait scowled, scandalised, but opened anyway with a disapproving glare. You stormed into the common room, boots thudding against the carpet, your heart hammering in your throat. There they were. Fred, George, and Lee. All three lounged on the couches by the fire, laughing about something, heads tilted back like they didn’t have a care in the world.
Until they saw you. George’s laughter died mid-cackle. Lee froze with a Bertie Bott’s bean halfway to his mouth. Fred’s eyes widened like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Oh, look,” you said, voice dripping with venom. “The Three Musketeers. How cozy.”
“…Oh no,” George muttered.
You crossed the room with purpose, arms crossed tightly over your chest, eyes blazing. Fred looked like he wanted to melt into the cushions. Lee glanced sideways, calculating possible escape routes while George did that thing where he rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish and guilty and trying not to laugh at the same time.
“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve tried to hang out with you lot today?” you snapped, each word slicing through the thick tension like a well-aimed hex. “Every time I show up, you vanish. At breakfast? You suddenly need to tend to a greenhouse explosion. I try to sit with you at lunch? You’re nowhere to be seen. You even skipped out on Transfiguration! McGonagall was furious!”
Fred looked like he was being interrogated under magical duress. You didn’t realise how pale he’d gone until now.
“I thought maybe I was imagining it,” you went on, your breath trembling. “That I was reading too much into it. But I’m not stupid. You’ve been avoiding me, all of you. So, what is it? Did I say something? Do something? Did I get too…what? Too annoying? Too clingy?”
Fred’s jaw flexed, George winced, and Lee actually lowered his head like a puppy in trouble. None of them answered you though.
“I thought we were friends!” your voice cracked. “If I’m such a bloody problem, then just say it to my face! Be men and say it!”
Silence followed, punctured only by the crackling fire. And then Fred opened his mouth, and what came out was the last thing you expected to hear. “You look so hot when you’re angry.”
You blinked. “What?”
Fred’s eyes widened in horror. “I said you look hot. When you yell. It’s doing something weird to me. Merlin’s beard, did I say that out loud? I did, didn’t I?”
Lee groaned and covered his face and George let out a strangled “Oh, blimey.”
“I also think your hair looks like something out of an oil painting,” Fred continued, voice rising in panic. “And you’ve got this little frown line when you’re concentrating that makes me want to kiss you stupid.”
You stared, heart hammering in your chest, partially frozen in shock. “You’re joking,” you breathed. “You’re making fun of me.”
“I’m not! I wish I was!” Fred blurted, struggling now as Lee shoved a hand over his mouth.
You took a step back, face flushing now for an entirely different reason.
George raised his hands defensively. “Okay, listen, we can explain.”
“I’d love for someone to start doing that!”
George winced. “We dared Fred to break into Snape’s private stores. You know, for fun.”
“Of course you did.”
“And…he nicked some Veritaserum.”
Your eyes narrowed. “You gave him Veritaserum?!”
“No!” Lee said, eyes wide as he struggled to keep Fred from licking his palm to escape. “Well, yes, but we all had some! It was for a game of truth or dare. We upped the anti. Thought we were only taking a micro dose. He had too much. Turns out it was like, a full dose and a half.”
You gaped. “So…he can’t lie?”
“More like he can’t stop telling the truth,” George said grimly. “It’s been hours. It’s…gotten worse.”
You could hardly believe what they were saying, because that meant everything else Fred had just blurted out was true. “Prove it.”
Lee looked at Fred, then smirked. “Oi, Fred. Remember that time you got stuck in the girls’ toilets in second year? Why were you in there?”
Lee removed his hand to allow Fred to speak, the boy confessed, “Because I wanted to find out if Angelina had a boyfriend!”
“OH MY GOD,” you muttered, horrified and delighted. You’d always suspected that he’d followed you and Angie in to eavesdrop but he’d never admitted it before.
Fred groaned, flopping backward into the couch and covering his eyes with both hands. Your thoughts spun. If everything he said - about you, your hair, wanting to kiss you - was the truth…You swallowed thickly, feeling your stomach stir with emotion. “Oh.”
George raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
You turned to him. “Why were you hiding him from me, then? Specifically?”
The boys glanced at each other and Lee swiftly clamped his hand over Fred’s mouth once more. No one answered until Fred bit down on Lee’s hand. Lee yelped and it gave Fred enough wiggle room to jerk away and blurt out quickly, “Because I’m scared of what I might say to you!”
George lunged with a pillow and slammed it over Fred’s face. “Shut UP.”
Lee added a blanket for good measure. Fred’s muffled voice still came through,” You smell really good too, by the way! Like all the time. Makes me wanna—”
“OKAY THATS ENOUGH!” George attempted to talk over his brother, drowning out what Fred was trying to say
You stood there, cheeks flushed, utterly speechless. “…Right,” you muttered. You turned to Neville, who was still frozen in place like he’d witnessed a murder. “Neville. Sorry for the…attacking, and dragging, and threatening, and all.”
He nodded numbly and without another word, you turned and walked out. As you disappeared out the portrait hole, Fred sat up again, pillow askew. “I said too much, didn’t I?”
George and Lee groaned in unison.
———————————————————————
The next morning, you seriously considered skipping breakfast. You’d hardly slept a wink after last night’s ambush. Your heart still hadn’t fully recovered from the fact that Fred Weasley - the same Fred you’d been crushing on for years - had not only complimented you in front of half the Gryffindor common room, but had apparently consumed so much Veritaserum that he couldn’t stop doing it.
You kept replaying it in your head, over and over.
“You look so hot when you’re angry.”
“You’ve got this little frown line when you’re concentrating that makes me want to kiss you stupid.”
“Because I’m scared of what I might say to you!”
Was that real? That happened, right? You didn’t hallucinate it? You gripped your bag a little tighter and stepped into the Great Hall.
The scent of warm bread and roasted tomatoes hit you immediately, but your eyes went straight to the Gryffindor table. There they were. Fred, George, and Lee, almost exactly where they’d been yesterday.
Fred was talking animatedly while George and Lee sat on either side of him like guards flanking a volatile prisoner. Every time Fred opened his mouth, they both twitched. You hesitated. You could turn back, pretend you forgot something, sit with the Ravenclaws, or maybe join Angelina and Alicia further down.
But then Fred looked up and his eyes locked on yours like he’d been waiting for you and he lit up. That was the thing with Fred Weasley. When he smiled at you, it was like the whole bloody ceiling of floating candles turned a little warmer and brighter. He practically stood to wave you over. You swallowed hard and crossed the hall on slightly shaky legs, avoiding every other pair of eyes you felt watching you.
“Morning,” you said, managing a tone that was between polite and painfully awkward.
“Good morning,” Fred said, voice suspiciously sincere. “You look radiant. No, actually, radiant’s not enough. You look like if the sun and Aphrodite had a baby and raised it in a faerie grotto.”
Lee choked on his pumpkin juice. George’s head hit the table with a soft thunk. You stilled. “What?”
Fred kept going. “Honestly, I don’t know how you manage to look that good this early in the morning.”
You sat slowly, stiff as a cursed statue as George shoved a croissant in Fred’s mouth. “Eat,” he commanded.
Fred chewed obediently, eyes still on you like you’d hung the stars yourself. You stared down at your plate. “I’m guessing the Verituserum is still in effect?”
“Yeah,” Lee said flatly. “We have no idea when it’ll wear off.”
“Is he…okay?”
“Other than an irresistible inclination to spilling whatever is running through his head, it seems so,” George shrugged.
“I’m absolutely mortified actually,” Fred said through the croissant. “Also, you smell incredible. Like vanilla and warm sugar and…ow!”
George had elbowed him.
“Umm,” you said cautiously, picking up your spoon, “how long does this usually last?”
“Veritaserum usually wears off in twenty-four to forty-eight hours,” Lee muttered, flipping his sausage over like it had offended him. “Unless, of course, you chug it like a lunatic.”
“How was I supposed to know it’d turn me into a sappy git!” Fred said indignantly.
“You were already a sappy git, now you’re just a sappy git with no filter!” George hissed.
You tried not to laugh, but a quiet, amused chuckle, followed by the tiniest smile you couldn’t hold back, snuck out.
Fred’s eyes widened like he’d won the Triwizard Tournament. “She smiled,” he said, almost reverently.
Lee pointed his fork at Fred. “Don’t.”
“You know how I love it when she does that,” Fred added. “It’s beautiful. Makes my insides all warm and fuzzy.”
George groaned and shoved a spoonful of scrambled eggs in his brother’s mouth.
You looked at them and the knot in your chest began to loosen. There were still questions you had. Still nerves and embarrassment swirled chaotically in your chest like a stirred cauldron. But Fred’s eyes were soft, unguarded and fixed entirely on you. There was no joke held in them. Nor teasing. He couldn’t lie even if he wanted to. You nudged your toast and tried not to overthink the blush crawling up your neck.
“So,” you said, eyes flicking to Fred’s. “What else are you dying to tell me that you haven’t yet?”
Lee immediately smacked his forehead. Fred swallowed the eggs and leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “That your laugh makes me feel like I’m not about to completely combust. Which is impressive, because I’m nearly always about to combust when I’m around you.”
George tackled him. Literally tackled him sideways onto the bench. Everyone in the vicinity turned to look and you burst out laughing.
Fred was flattened under his twin and with a piece of bacon in his hair. He groaned at his own confession. “I hate this! Get me out of here!”
So Lee and George did. They hurried him out of the great hall like a fire was at their heels.
———————————————————————
You should’ve known better than to think Potions class would be anything less than a disaster today. For starters, Snape already looked murderous before anyone had entered the dungeon. His robes flared like bat wings as he prowled between the desks, eyes narrowed, mouth twisted into his usual expression of ‘I hate all of you equally’.
The only good news was that he’d paired you with Fred again. The bad news was also that you were paired with Fred again.
He was still under the effects of Veritaserum. Still unable to lie. Still completely incapable of shutting up. You’d barely opened your textbook before he leaned closer. “You look like someone who should be immortalised in stained glass.”
You choked on air. He was sitting next to you, casual as anything, chin in his palm, elbow on the desk, watching you like you were the most fascinating part of the room. Which, you were sure you weren’t.
“Fred,” you hissed, glancing around. “Not now.”
“You smile with your whole face,” he whispered. “It’s devastating.”
“Oh my god.”
Snape swept past your table, his cloak snapping dramatically at his heels. “Mr. Weasley,” he said, in the tone one might use when stepping in dung. “If you insist on breathing loudly, do it elsewhere.”
Fred snapped upright. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. You’re more intimidating than usual. Though still just as much of a git.”
The room froze and an unlucky Hufflepuff dropped their pestle, the whole room heard it clang on the flagstones.
Snape turned very slowly. “Excuse me?”
You kicked Fred under the desk before he could say anything else but it wasn’t enough to stop him. He flinched. “I wish I could say I didn’t mean that. But, well, I did.” He clamped his mouth shut, his face red.
Snape narrowed his eyes. “Ten points from Gryffindor.”
“But it could be a compliment!” Fred tried. “You’re very…committed to your aesthetic? Of course it wasn’t a compliment—”
You were going to die here. Your body would be found slumped over a cauldron and people would whisper, ‘she died because Fred Weasley called Snape a git during Veritaserum detox’.
You grabbed Fred by the wrist and hissed, “Shut. Up.”
“I’m trying! But you’re right here, and it’s really hard to be normal around you when you smell like dessert and…and you keep tucking your hair behind your ear like you don’t know what that does to me. But of course, I guess you don’t know what it does to me but I can tell you it does a lot.”
You dropped your ladle and it splashed green liquid across the desk.
“Ms. Y/l/n,” Snape drawled. “Would you like to join your partner in detention?”
“No, sir,” you said through clenched teeth. “Desperately not.”
Snape stalked off, muttering under his breath. Fred turned to you, very quiet for once. You risked a glance. He was biting his lip, face flushed, clearly fighting the urge to say anything else. He picked up the ingredients list and started grinding roots with unnecessary intensity.
You stared at the way his forearms flexed as he moved. You were losing your mind at the way his veins were defined by the tense muscles running all up his arm. You were suddenly very thankful that the boys had kept you out of their after hours truth or dare game. Otherwise you were entirely sure you’d be in a worse predicament than Fred.
You forced yourself to focus on the recipe before you and collected a handful of eels eyes. The crack of someone’s cauldron exploding across the room caused you to jump, the eyes scattering from your palm and across the floor. You swiftly hurried to collect them before Snape could notice. Only, the moment you bent down Fred let out a loud, barely contained groan. “Merlin, you look good when you do that. Makes me wanna—”
Your spine instantly straighter, stomach clenching, looking up to meet Fred’s eyes. His face was screwed up in effort, teeth digging into his bottom lip to stop himself from completing his sentence. He looked like the restraint was killing him.
“Shit, shut up, shut up, shut up,” he murmured under his breath, turning his head and refusing to look at you as his fists clenched.
You forced yourself to clear your throat, ignoring him and going on with rushing the eel eyes to stop yourself from doing something impulsive. Like grabbing his tie and kissing him over a bubbling cauldron.
———————————————————————
It was late. The corridors were nearly silent, which Hogwarts only ever managed in the deep belly of evening, when most students were tucked away in their dorms. Even Peeves seemed to be sleeping, or plotting. Either way he was nowhere to be seen. You’d just left the library, arms full of books you weren’t really reading and your head still spinning from a few days of emotional whiplash and truth bombs you hadn’t asked for.
Fred had been avoiding you again after the potions fiasco, but not in the way he had before. Now it was more like he was dodging danger. Like he was terrified he’d open his mouth and say something truly nuclear. So every time you entered a room, George or Lee shoved him behind a curtain or distracted you with a stupid prank or practically dragged him into another hallway by the scruff of his neck.
It was honestly driving you insane. You were tired of the avoidance and the interruptions. So when you turned a corner and he was there alone, just walking with his hands jammed into his pockets looking like he’d been pacing, you jumped on the opportunity.
Fred looked up and instantly stopped walking. His face was pale, like he’d been holding his breath since the morning. His eyes went wide. “Oh no.”
“Hi,” you said slowly, lowering your stack of books. “What are you doing?”
“Trying not to have a breakdown.”
“Charming.”
Fred looked down at the floor, then back at you, and you saw the exact second he gave up trying to be subtle. “I can’t do this anymore.”
You blinked. “Do what?”
“This. Not telling you. Or, I guess I have told you, I guess, in a very roundabout way. But that was all by accident and now it’s wearing off, and my brain keeps screaming at me to shut up and I can’t because I’ve already said too much and not enough, and…Merlin’s balls, you’re looking at me like that and it’s making it worse.”
You stared at him, stunned. “Like what?” you managed.
“Like you might kiss me if I say the right thing.”
“Well, try it and we’ll find out.”
Fred let out a weak laugh, raking both hands through his hair until it stood on end. “You make me nervous,” he said, almost breathless. “That’s the problem. You always have. Not in the bad way. Like, the good kind of nervous. The butterflies-so-loud-I-can’t-think kind. The ‘don’t screw this up, Weasley’ kind. The kind where I’m terrified of saying the wrong thing because you’re the first person who makes me want to get it right. And I’m scared that as soon as this wears off, I won’t be able to say it anymore so I need to get it out now.”
You swallowed hard, heart thudding somewhere in your throat.
He stepped closer. “I’ve had a million chances to say this when it would’ve mattered more. When it would’ve been easier. But I blew it. Because I was afraid of saying too much. And now, thanks to that bloody potion and my own bloody stupidity, I’ve already let it go too far without finishing it, and I don’t know if I ruined it or not.”
His voice cracked. “I like you. So much I don’t know what to do with it. It’s not just a crush, or a joke, or something I can charm my way through. It’s real. And terrifying. And I’d rather get hexed by Snape than spend another day pretending it’s not killing me to keep this in.”
You didn’t realize you’d moved until you were in front of him. You were so close you could see the pink flush across his cheeks and the frantic flick of his gaze between your eyes and your mouth, the tight tremble of his fists at his sides like he didn’t trust himself not to grab you.
“Say it again,” you whispered.
He blinked. “What?”
“Say it again. Plainly. No verbal gymnastics.”
Fred swallowed. “I like you. Like I’ve never liked anyone before. I mean I’ve liked people before, but it’s never been like this. Like, ‘thinking about you before I fall asleep’ kind of like. Or ‘writing jokes in my head just to tell you later’ kind of like.”
You leaned in and his breath hitched.
“I like you so much it hurts,” he whispered. “You’re smart and sharp and you see through all my jokes and you call me out and you make me laugh when I don’t want to and I hate how much I love it.”
Your brain was short circuiting, and you could t hold yourself back anymore. You surged forward and kissed him. He gasped as your fingers curled into his jumper and his hands finally flew to your waist, tugging you impossibly closer. It wasn’t perfect. It was frantic and messy and desperate in a way that only years of longing could create.
When you pulled back, breathless, your forehead still resting against his, you whispered, “I like you too Fred, and I don’t need Veritaserum to admit it.”
Fred’s smile widened. “You do?”
You flushed. “I mean, you’re obnoxious and loud and constantly in detention, but yeah. I do.”
“Oh COME ON!” Came a loud yell in unison, and both you and Fred whirled to see George and Lee skidding around the corner, both panting.
“We’ve been hiding him from you for days,” George gasped. “We even hand fed him yesterday like a newborn owl!”
“And all of that was for nothing?” Lee groaned, tossing his hands in the air. “He told you anyway!”
Fred just grinned smugly. He was glowing like he’d just won the House Cup, the Quidditch Cup, and your heart all in one go. He reached down, laced his fingers through yours. “Actually,” he said, eyes never leaving yours, “I’d say it was worth every damn second.”
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