Summary: Takes place during Prisoner of Azkaban. Reader is in her fourth year (one below Fred/George) and has been having a rough year because of the Dementors. Fred steps in to help.
Warnings: mentions of anxiety and stress
Word Count: 4,500
A/N: I’ve had this fic idea for a few months now, and finally got around to writing it! Fred is genuinely the love of my life and I hope you enjoy reading! :)
The Hogwarts Library was your favorite place to study. It wasn’t necessarily because you enjoyed the silence more than anyone else, but rather stemmed from your inability to work when other people were around. The moment you broke off from your group of friends’ “study sessions” and started studying by yourself in the library, you fell in love with its quiet yet comforting ambience.
Studying alone didn’t necessarily mean you were lonely while studying. There was an unspoken sense of camaraderie between the regulars who frequented the library most nights of the week. Hermione, for example, had become your unofficial “study buddy” during your second year, with the two of you sharing a table or a couch to do your work on every time you were in the library together. Despite her being a year younger than you, she was one of your closest friends.
Even on nights like tonight, with buckets of rain falling down outside and the wind howling louder than a banshee, the library remained one of the coziest spots in the castle.
It was Saturday, one of the few nights Hermione didn’t come down to join you, and so you’d abandoned your normal desk near the windows in favor of a cushioned armchair near the fireplace (which Madam Pince only lit on nights like this).
You relished the warmth radiating from the fire in front of you, admiring the soft, flickering light it cast on the piece of parchment in your lap. You were taking a break from your half-finished potions essay, transfixed by the rain cascading down the tall library windows like a small waterfall.
You squinted as a dark figure floated into view, brows furrowing as you recognized it as one of the many dementors assigned to Hogwarts’ ground this year. You shuddered, quickly reverting your eyes to your essay.
How ironic, you thought, that you were writing about the Calming Drought when you hadn’t felt calm once all year.
You came from a muggle family, and while many creatures of the wizarding world were still unfamiliar to you, dementors were one aspect you wish had remained secret. They terrified you, to put it plainly.
You hadn’t slept soundly since the first day of the semester when one of them had just floated into the train compartment you were sharing with Harry, Hermione, and Ron. You’d almost passed out right then and there, and you weren’t even the person it was interested in.
You understood why they were there, but you still hated them. You could hardly go anywhere without seeing one hovering lifelessly through a window or lurking slowly over the Quidditch Pitch. As Hermione had said herself, you didn’t need to be near one for it to make you feel absolutely awful.
And while you didn’t like to think of yourself as an anxious person, the dementors’ presence this year had completely degraded your mental state. You were sleeping less, eating less, and trying to cope by putting all your effort into your schoolwork. At least when you were preoccupied with an essay or studying, you’d get a small distraction from the horrible creatures that permeated your everyday life.
“Oi, (Y/n)!”
You jumped about five feet in the air at the sudden noise, essay and quill falling unceremoniously to the floor. You groaned, twisting in your seat and eyes widening at the sight of Fred Weasley approaching you, a concerned look on his face.
“Sorry, love, didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized sincerely. You gulped, ignoring the term of endearment, and shook your head dismissively.
“It’s alright,” you replied with a wave of your hand. “Just caught me off guard is all.” You reached down to pick up the items you’d launched off your lap. When you sat back up, Fred was walking over with a chair he’d grabbed from a nearby desk. You gave him a small smile as he sat down next to you.
“I’m assuming you’d like help with something?” you teased knowingly. He grinned and nodded.
“Hermione said you were in the middle of writing a potions essay, and seeing as Georgie and I have spent the last week studying for our potions OWL, I figured I’d come ask you all the questions Hermione couldn’t answer for us,” he explained. “If that’s okay with you, that is.”
You feigned offense. “Wow, Hermione first then me? I see how it is, Weasley.”
He rolled his eyes, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and smoothing it out on his thigh.
“These are our areas of concern,” he said, handing the paper to you.
“Areas of concern?” You raised an eyebrow as you scanned over the paper, chewing your bottom lip lightly as you tried to figure out what topics you could actually help him with. You glanced up at him, cheeks flushing at the sight of him watching you intently with a small smile on his face.
You’d always been a bit infatuated with Fred Weasley, but then again, who wasn’t? Fred and George were Quidditch legends, insanely popular (but in the truly social way, not the stuck up “I’m better than everyone” way), and quite smart. They were funny but caring, and stood up for anyone who needed it. He was also a year older than you, and thus you regarded him as completely unattainable.
“I understand everything up until this here,” you said finally, pointing at where ‘Draught of Peace’ was written. “I think this is where the fifth year curriculum begins, and obviously I’m not there yet.”
“I will gladly accept whatever help you can give,” Fred replied, grimacing as Madam Pince interrupted him with a loud “Shh!”
You startled again, exhaling quickly and glaring at Fred for causing the reprimand.
“I’m good, thank you,” you replied, looking down at Fred’s list once again. You went to hand it back to him, only to find him staring at you with an apprehensive look. “What?” you asked defensively.
“Have you been sleeping lately?” he asked quietly. You gulped, realizing you hadn’t concealed the dark purple bags under your eyes before you’d left your dorm.
“It’s just been a tough week,” you replied firmly, shoving the list into his hands and reaching down to gather your things.
“(Y/n)-”
“It’s late,” you stated, cutting him off before he could interrogate you further. “How about we get together to study sometime this week? That way I can find all my essays from this year for reference.”
“That works fine for me,” he replied hesitantly. “Are you-”
“I’m free any day except Wednesday, and Thursday morning because I have a Charms test,” you interrupted again, standing up quickly. “Just let me know whenever.”
He nodded slowly, pushing himself out of his seat as well, concern still etched across his face. You tried to give him a reassuring smile.
“How about tomorrow in the Great Hall? After my Quidditch practice,” he finally suggested. You nodded eagerly.
“Sounds perfect, I’ll see you then.” You gave him a small wave and rushed towards the doors, trying to ignore your heart beating ten times faster than normal and the memory of Fred’s worried gaze.
• • •
When you woke up from yet another night of hardly any sleep, you realized you had absolutely no idea when Quidditch practice was. You had walked down to the common room looking for Harry, but lo and behold, Oliver Wood was already up and annotating a book on Quidditch strategies at nine in the morning.
Practice was from three to five on Sundays, as you quickly found out, meaning you had a whole eight hours to stress about studying with Fred before it actually happened.
You spent an hour trying to fall back asleep and another working on your potions essay, then decided you’d had enough of your own room and went to bother Hermione in her dorm. You found her sitting on the carpet surrounded by a copious amount of notes, with Lavender and Parvati helping her sort through them.
“Transfiguration,” Parvati explained as you sat down to help them. “We have a test on Friday.”
“A bloody hard one, too,” Lavender said, slightly exasperated. “Four chapters worth of short ended questions and two essays.”
“Where’s Kellah?” you asked, realizing the fourth inhabitant of the dorm was missing.
“Interrogating McGonagall about all this.” Lavender jabbed a figure at a stack of notes spitefully.
“Maybe Kellah will convince her to give us all bonus points,” Parvati suggested. Hermione laughed softly, head still bowed over a lengthy piece of parchment in front of her.
“I hear you’ve got a study date with Fred Weasley this afternoon,” Hermione said, glancing up to give you a grin and an eyebrow wiggle. You groaned, blushing as Lavender and Parvati squealed.
“It’s really not that serious-”
“Except that it is!” Lavender all but shrieked. “You’ve liked him for forever!”
“Sweet Merlin, this is your chance!” Parvati gushed, grabbing your hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’m genuinely so excited about this.”
You laughed and shook your head. “I’ll be sure to give you all updates tomorrow, though I can’t promise they’ll be all that interesting.”
The four of you continued to talk about your looming study session with Fred as you combed through Hermione’s notes.
“This’ll be good for you, (Y/n),” Parvati said thoughtfully. “I mean, Fred’s a great guy, he’s always cared about you-”
“Maybe hanging out with him more will help with the whole, y’know, anxiety situation,” Lavender added. You shrugged.
“I mean, I saw him for literally five minutes yesterday and he’s already figured out that I’m not sleeping,” you said, chewing your bottom lip. “And I don’t why but the thought of him knowing everything makes me nervous.”
“Why?” Hermione asked curiously. You shrugged again.
“I guess I just don’t want him to be upset, or worried.”
“(Y/n), Fred would never be upset with you,” she said reassuringly.
“I think it’s romantic that he’s all in-tune with your emotions,” Parvati said wistfully.
“And he cares,” Lavender sighed, staring at the carpet emotionally. You rolled your eyes.
“Thanks, guys.”
• • •
At 2:30, you tried to convince yourself that you were heading down to the common room to relax, not to catch a glimpse of your favorite Weasley twin on his way to practice. That was a lie.
Fifteen minutes later, Fred Weasley ambled down the steps with the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, laughing loudly with George while Oliver trailed behind them muttering something about maturity. Fred’s face lit up as he caught sight of you curled up on the couch and smiled at you brightly. You gave him a small wave in return, hoping he wouldn’t be able to see the faint blush on your cheeks.
“I’ll see you later!” he called on his way out of the room. George paused in the doorway to give you an exaggerated wink, giggling when you glared at him before turning to catch up with the rest of the team.
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, cursing your quickened pulse and sweaty palms - he’d only been in the same room as you, for Merlin’s sake, there was no need to get so worked up.
And yet Fred had all your nerves on edge as the clock on the wall ticked closer and closer to five o’clock. You pulled out your potions textbook and a spare piece of parchment, deciding to make a few notes for later.
At some point you dozed off, your lack of sleep catching up with you as it often did in the middle of the afternoon. You’d become a frequent napper in the last month or so, finding it easier to fall asleep when it was still light out. Today, however, was not the best day for one of your four hour recovery naps.
You woke up with half an hour to spare before you needed to be in the Great Hall. You went back up to your room, gathered your typical study things and changed out of the pajamas you’d been in all day, opting for a sweater and a new pair of sweatpants instead. This time, you made sure to dab concealer under your eyes, erasing all evidence of your insomnia before you left Gryffindor Tower.
There were only a few students sitting in the Great Hall when you got there. You took a seat in the middle of the Gryffindor table and inspected the baskets of assorted snacks in front of you as you set your bag down.
One of the first years, a girl named Amara, pushed a basket of pumpkin pasties towards you from her seat across the table. She gave you a shy smile. “I know you like them.”
“Thank you, Amara,” you said, grinning at the young Gryffindor and grabbing two of the pasties.
“What’s that about?” she asked as you pulled your textbook out of your bag.
“Potions,” you said, setting the book on the table in front of you. “I’m helping Fred study for his exams.”
“Fred Weasley?” Amara asked with wide eyes. You chuckled.
“The one and only.”
As if on cue, Fred made his way through the doors of the Great Hall, head turning as he scanned the room for you. He grinned as his eyes met yours and hastened his pace just a little bit. Your heart skipped a beat, admiring the way his sweatpants hugged his legs and the slight flush to his face.
“Hello, love,” he said, sliding into the seat next to you. You gave him a small smile, eyes widening as he wrapped an arm around your waist. If he noticed the blush tickling your cheeks he ignored it.
“And hello to you, too, Amara,” he continued, giving her a wave. “You look lovely today.”
She squeaked, face turning a bright shade of red as she scampered down the bench towards her classmates. You rolled your eyes, giving him a playful slap on the shoulder.
“You’re a menace,” you scolded.
“Sure am,” he replied proudly, removing his arm from your waist and clasping his hands together on the table in front of him. “So, potions.”
You nodded, flipping open your textbook to the Wit-Sharpening Potion (which you’d bookmarked earlier). “This is the first thing in the fourth year curriculum.”
“Which is where Hermione left off,” he added with a nod.
“I’ve already read it over,” you explained, pointing at some of the annotations you’d made earlier. “So we can review it together and then you can copy down all the important bits to study later.”
He looked down at himself and then gave you a sheepish look. “Do you by chance have something I could write on?” he asked. You sighed, reaching into your bag to grab a piece of parchment and a quill.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Weasley,” you said sarcastically.
“Oh, I hope so,” he replied cheekily, giving you a heart-melting grin.
You spent the next hour or so guiding him through the effects and recipes of each potion. He actually did a surprisingly good job at paying attention, taking detailed notes and only interrupting every once in a while to point out Amara staring at the two of you from a distance.
“She’s so cute,” you remarked softly, watching her gossip energetically with her friends.
“She reminds me of you when you were a first year,” Fred said. You gave him a confused glance.
“What do you mean?”
“Very enthusiastic, easy to rile up,” he explained.
“Now I understand why you and George pulled so many pranks on me,” you groaned, turning the page to the chapter on Skele-Gro.
“It’s was our job to terrorize the new students,” he said, raising his hands in defense. “Peeves’ orders.”
“Uhuh,” you said sarcastically, unable to keep the grin off your face.
“This is the stuff Madam Pomfrey gave to Harry last year!” Fred said excitedly, pointing at the book. You grinned and nodded.
“Yes! Now what’s it made of?” you asked, covering the ingredient list with your hand.
Fred’s nose scrunched as he concentrated. “Erm, puffer fish, and an arm bone, and…spiders?”
“One spider,” you corrected, lifting your hand off the page. “And a bunch of other things.”
“Chinese chomping cabbage, five Scarab beetles…” he mumbled, scribbling onto his parchment as he squinted at the list.
“Invented by Linfred of Stinchcombe,” you added.
“Funny name,” Fred chuckled.
“Which one?” you asked. “Linfred, or Stinchcombe?”
“Both.”
You giggled softly, gaze trailing upwards as the light emitting from the ceiling changed from a pale yellow to a deep blue. The floating candles gleamed brightly against the dark night sky. Despite the change, there was still enough light shining on the tables for you to be able to work.
“Lovely nighttime ambience,” Fred remarked from beside you.
“You sound like you work in real estate,” you replied, gaze moving from the ceiling to the large window at the front of the hall.
You inhaled sharply, noticing the all-too familiar silhouette of a dementor floating just beyond the glass.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Fred asked softly from behind you. You hardly noticed the hand he rested gently on your arm, focused entirely on the dementor hanging in the air like a twisted puppet.
“Dumbledore said they weren’t going to come on the school grounds,” you muttered.
Fred followed your gaze to the window, and you felt him stiffen behind you. “Ah.”
You turned back around in your seat, knocking his hand off you, and cleared your throat as you looked back at your notes.
“I think we can move on, yea?” you said, flipping to the next chapter.
“(Y/n)-”
“Antidotes,” you announced, clapping your hands together dismissively. “Very specific healing potions-”
“(Y/n)!” Fred interrupted, reaching out and covering your hand with his own. You sighed, finding yourself feeling oddly uncomfortable under his concerned gaze. “What, Fred?”
“Exactly, what the bloody hell was that?” he asked, a bit harshly.
“What are you talking about?”
“The dementor!” he said exasperatedly, frown deepening as you shivered. “(Y/n)?” His voice was much softer this time.
“I don’t like talking about them,” you said finally, shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath. “They scare the shit out of me.”
“Are the dementors why you haven’t been sleeping?”
Your eyes snapped open, giving Fred an incredulous look. “I’ve been sleeping just fine, thank you.”
“I hope you don’t think last night in the library was the first time I’ve noticed,” he said softly. Your heart skipped a beat. “All year you’ve seemed…more reserved. Tired. You yawn all the time, I hardly see you eat.”
“I’m just…stressed,” you managed, glancing at the pumpkin pasties you’d set aside earlier. The dementor had taken your appetite away completely.
“It seems more serious than that,” Fred muttered, placing his hand on top of yours and squeezing gently.
You sighed, glancing down the table to where Amara and her friends were staring at you intently. “Could we continue this conversation elsewhere?” you asked quietly. Fred nodded, helping you put your things in your bag.
“When did it start?” he asked as the two of you walked towards the doors at the end of the Great Hall.
“It’s been all year,” you admitted, cringing at the way Fred exhaled sharply. “I didn’t know you noticed.”
“Of course I noticed,” Fred said, pushing the door open for you. “You’re worth watching.”
You blushed and followed him down the corridor. “Where are we going?”
“I was thinking the kitchens?” he said. “It’s warm there, plus the house-elves are just starting dinner.”
Fred stayed by your side as you walked down the stairs, hand brushing against the back of yours lightly every time he took another step down. You bit your lip, imagining how it would feel to get to hold his hand.
“How was Quidditch practice?” you asked softly, breaking the silence. Fred looked down at you and gave you a small grin.
“You really want to know?”
You nodded.
“Absolute shit,” he replied, emphasizing every syllable. You stifled a laugh as his brows furrowed in frustration. “Wood has been up in everyone’s business for weeks trying to get us to learn this new play. You know who invented it?”
“Who?” you asked curiously.
“The Pride of Portree!” he said exasperatedly. “They’re bloody professionals, and Wood can’t seem to understand how we’re not performing as well as they are.”
“Wood’s a bit of a lunatic when it comes to Quidditch,” you agreed.
“A bit is an understatement,” Fred snorted, stopping at the fruit bowl painting that concealed the entrance to the kitchens. “Do you want to tickle the pear or should I?” “Don’t think I’ve ever been asked that before,” you laughed. “You can do it.”
Fred reached out and gave the two dimensional fruit a tickle, grinning as it turned into a door handle. He pulled it open. “After you, m’lady.”
“(Y/n)!”
You grinned and waved hello to Krafty, one of your favorite house-elves.
“Hello, Krafty,” Fred called, pulling the door shut and coming to stand beside you.
“Mr. Weasley,” Krafty said, giving a slight bow. “Krafty must go help work on dinner!”
You glanced up at Fred as the house-elf scurried off. “I didn’t know you knew Krafty.”
“George and I come here all the time to steal food before bed,” he explained, grabbing your hand and tugging you towards one of the tables. “We know quite a few of these guys.”
He sat down and patted the bench next to him, grinning as you followed suit and rested your head against his arm.
“Comfortable?” he asked. You nodded.
“Your mother’s sweaters are always so cozy,” you mumbled. “I stole one of Ginny’s old ones to sleep in.”
Fred chuckled. “I’ll just ask her to make you one.”
“I don’t want to burden her,” you whined.
“She loves you, she won’t mind.”
“I miss your mum,” you said. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen her.” “You should come visit,” Fred suggested. You shrugged, sitting up straight. “Maybe.”
Fred reached around your back and grabbed a roll out of a basket behind you. You gave him a confused look as he forced it into your hands.
“Would you please eat this,” he said. “I haven’t seen you eat a full meal in weeks and it’s starting to make me nervous.”
“Sorry,” you mumbled, taking a small bite of the bread.
“I don’t mean to make you feel bad,” Fred said softly, “it’s just that you have to eat.”
“It’s not like I’m trying not to,” you explained. “I want to eat, but I get so…so nervousthat I stop being hungry.”
“Because of the dementors?” he asked.
“Yea.” You cringed at how small your voice sounded.
“Why do they freak you out so much?” he asked genuinely. “I mean, they’re creepy and all, but you seem more affected by them than most other people.”
“You remember how one came into our compartment on the Hogwarts Express?” you asked. “At the beginning of the year?”
Fred frowned and nodded. “Don’t think Ron slept for two weeks.”
“Yea, well, I haven’t really slept since then,” you muttered.
“(Y/n), it’s been months,” Fred said incredulously, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “I genuinely have no idea how you’ve been functioning this whole time.”
“I know it’s bad,” you sighed, leaning into his chest and trying to ignore the way his caring tugged at your emotions. “But it’s just…so dark in my room at night. And I’m always the last one awake and I feel so alone, and then I’m just reminded of how lonely and terrified and coldthe dementor made me feel.”
“You have to sleep sometimes,” Fred said, pulling you in closer to him. “I read somewhere that you’ll die if you don’t sleep at all, and you’re clearly alive.” He pulled back and gave you a once-over. “Well, kind of.”
You snorted. “I take a lot of naps.”
“Is it easier to fall asleep during the day?”
“Yea, and I can hear people moving around and talking and stuff, so I don’t feel as isolated I guess,” you said. Fred hummed, thinking to himself.
“Would it be okay if I proposed a rather outlandish and potentially polarizing solution,” he said finally.
“Uh, sure,” you replied, motioning for him to speak.
Fred cleared his throat. “You could, y’know, if you wanted to, come sleep with me. Only if you were okay with it, of course.”
You were sure you’d heard him wrong, eyes bulging as a faint blush appeared on his cheeks.
“Jesus, (Y/n), don’t look at me like that,” he teased with a nervous chuckle. You blinked, trying to force your face into a more normal expression.
“You…you want me to sleep with you?” you asked.
“Not sexually!” he clarified quickly. “Just like physical sleeping, and I could keep you company so you wouldn’t feel lonely.” A pause. “Unless you’d prefer sexually.”
You felt your face turn increasing shades of bright red, stuttering for an answer as he grinned at you adoringly. Your eyes widened as he reached out and grasped your thigh gently, staring down at his hand and then back up at him.
“Would this be a bad time to tell you I fancy you?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching yours for any trace of an answer.
“No,” you managed breathlessly. “This is a perfect time.” His lips were on yours in an instant, your eyes fluttering closed as one of his hands came up to cup your jaw, the other resting on the small of your back, coaxing you closer to him.
You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you senseless and caressing your face with his thumb.
And suddenly you remembered you were still in the kitchens. In the kitchens snogging Fred Weasley.
“Fred,” you murmured, pulling back and taking a deep breath. You opened your eyes, relishing in the sight of Fred panting, his eyes still closed. “Fred, we have an audience.”
He opened his eyes slowly, blinking at the small crowd of house-elves watching you from a distance, all donning shocked expressions. “Krafty! Doesn’t (Y/n) look ravishing this evening?”
Krafty blushed furiously, turning around and hurrying away with the platter he was carrying.
“Fred Weasley!” you scolded.
“I wasn’t completely joking, you know,” he muttered, looking back at you. “You look gorgeous. Absolutely stunning, inside and out.”
You blushed. “I, erm, fancy you too,” you said, realizing you hadn’t said it back before. “In case you were wondering.”
Fred grinned, pushing himself to his feet and reaching down to help you stand up. “Let’s take this back up to my dorm, yea? We can make tea and look at that potions book a little more, and then maybe you can spend the night?”
You looked up at him, beaming at the thought of spending a night in Fred Weasley’s arms, and potentially sleeping well for the first time in months. “That sounds marvelous, Freddie.”
summary: after an explosive prank, fred lands himself in detention, being forced to care for a mountain of plants. luckily, y/n is there to guide him the way, teaching him about the wonders of herbology and about himself, too.
pairing: fred weasley x fem!hufflepuff!reader
word count: 2.4k
warnings: pining but that’s about it!
a/n: the second installment of the golden collection is finally here!! this was lots and lots of fun to write! researching herbology and plants was hella fun. also spoiler but i think it’s ironic that the game that fred is going to play in is actually a bad one and doesn’t seem lucky at all lmfao.
“I will not hear another peep out of you, Mr. Weasley,” she snapped, her voice muffled by the greenhouse walls that separated you.
Professor Sprout barreled through the door; Fred in tow, who was rolling his eyes rather dramatically. You peered at him through the leaves of the lavish wolfsbane that you were watering before casually approaching the pair.
You smiled warmly at each of them, knowing all too well what this particular guest entailed. Sprout looked back at you with contrition, announcing, “Mr. Weasley, this is Ms. Y/L/N — she’ll be showing you how to tend to the greenhouse on this lovely Saturday morning.”
However, the morning was anything but lovely. Dreary clouds covered the sky, and brittle leaves danced in the crisp wind. Conversely, a sticky humidity hung inside of the greenhouse, making it especially pleasant to let the cool air creep in for just a moment.
Fred flashed you a lopsided grin as he snuck out of Sprout’s grasp. She leaned towards you and whispered, “good luck,” before scurrying out of the greenhouse.
summary: after an explosive prank, fred lands himself in detention, being forced to care for a mountain of plants. luckily, y/n is there to guide him the way, teaching him about the wonders of herbology and about himself, too.
pairing: fred weasley x fem!hufflepuff!reader
word count: 2.4k
warnings: pining but that’s about it!
a/n: the second installment of the golden collection is finally here!! this was lots and lots of fun to write! researching herbology and plants was hella fun. also spoiler but i think it’s ironic that the game that fred is going to play in is actually a bad one and doesn’t seem lucky at all lmfao.
“I will not hear another peep out of you, Mr. Weasley,” she snapped, her voice muffled by the greenhouse walls that separated you.
Professor Sprout barreled through the door; Fred in tow, who was rolling his eyes rather dramatically. You peered at him through the leaves of the lavish wolfsbane that you were watering before casually approaching the pair.
You smiled warmly at each of them, knowing all too well what this particular guest entailed. Sprout looked back at you with contrition, announcing, “Mr. Weasley, this is Ms. Y/L/N — she’ll be showing you how to tend to the greenhouse on this lovely Saturday morning.”
However, the morning was anything but lovely. Dreary clouds covered the sky, and brittle leaves danced in the crisp wind. Conversely, a sticky humidity hung inside of the greenhouse, making it especially pleasant to let the cool air creep in for just a moment.
Fred flashed you a lopsided grin as he snuck out of Sprout’s grasp. She leaned towards you and whispered, “good luck,” before scurrying out of the greenhouse.
summary: after an explosive prank, fred lands himself in detention, being forced to care for a mountain of plants. luckily, y/n is there to guide him the way, teaching him about the wonders of herbology and about himself, too.
pairing: fred weasley x fem!hufflepuff!reader
word count: 2.4k
warnings: pining but that’s about it!
a/n: the second installment of the golden collection is finally here!! this was lots and lots of fun to write! researching herbology and plants was hella fun. also spoiler but i think it’s ironic that the game that fred is going to play in is actually a bad one and doesn’t seem lucky at all lmfao.
“I will not hear another peep out of you, Mr. Weasley,” she snapped, her voice muffled by the greenhouse walls that separated you.
Professor Sprout barreled through the door; Fred in tow, who was rolling his eyes rather dramatically. You peered at him through the leaves of the lavish wolfsbane that you were watering before casually approaching the pair.
You smiled warmly at each of them, knowing all too well what this particular guest entailed. Sprout looked back at you with contrition, announcing, “Mr. Weasley, this is Ms. Y/L/N — she’ll be showing you how to tend to the greenhouse on this lovely Saturday morning.”
However, the morning was anything but lovely. Dreary clouds covered the sky, and brittle leaves danced in the crisp wind. Conversely, a sticky humidity hung inside of the greenhouse, making it especially pleasant to let the cool air creep in for just a moment.
Fred flashed you a lopsided grin as he snuck out of Sprout’s grasp. She leaned towards you and whispered, “good luck,” before scurrying out of the greenhouse.
summary: after an explosive prank, fred lands himself in detention, being forced to care for a mountain of strange plants. luckily, y/n is there to guide him the way, teaching him about the wonders of herbology and about himself, too.
pairing: fred weasley x fem!hufflepuff!reader
word count: 2.4k
warnings: pining but that’s about it!
a/n: the second installment of the golden collection is finally here!! this was lots and lots of fun to write! researching herbology and plants was hella fun. also spoiler but i think it’s ironic that the game that fred is going to play in is actually a bad one and doesn’t seem lucky at all lmfao.
“I will not hear another peep out of you, Mr. Weasley,” she snapped, her voice muffled by the greenhouse walls that separated you.
Professor Sprout barreled through the door; Fred in tow, who was rolling his eyes rather dramatically. You peered at him through the leaves of the lavish wolfsbane that you were watering before casually approaching the pair.
You smiled warmly at each of them, knowing all too well what this particular guest entailed. Sprout looked back at you with contrition, announcing, “Mr. Weasley, this is Ms. Y/L/N — she’ll be showing you how to tend to the greenhouse on this lovely Saturday morning.”
However, the morning was anything but lovely. Dreary clouds covered the sky, and brittle leaves danced in the crisp wind. Conversely, a sticky humidity hung inside of the greenhouse, making it especially pleasant to let the cool air creep in for just a moment.
Fred flashed you a lopsided grin as he snuck out of Sprout’s grasp. She leaned towards you and whispered, “good luck,” before scurrying out of the greenhouse.
It was no mystery how little Fred Weasley cared about Herbology. Half of the time, he’d snooze to the sound of Sprout’s voice, and the other half, he’d turn her plants into playthings. It was fairly common by now to spot one of the twins shrinking the tentaculas or extracting foul odors from the wormwoods, but no such prank had been as outrageous as the one Fred pulled the morning prior: he transformed Sprout’s prized umbrella flower into a pyrotechnic display by enchanting it to blast miniature fireworks from its vibrant petals.
This would surely be a challenge.
You turned to Fred, who was closely inspecting some puffapods. You pondered the likelihood of transforming him into someone who cared even an iota about plants. And you were determined to bring it to fruition.
Contrary to him, you’d been exposed to the magic of Herbology quite early in life: your mother kept a lush garden of daffodils and dahlias, all whilst bouncing you on her hip in the summer heat. And as birthdays passed, your growing collection of Herbology books began to burst from your cluttered shelves. Most of those books traveled with you to Hogwarts, where you were often spotted in the Hufflepuff common room tending to the whimsical plants. During your fourth year, Professor Sprout, admiring your natural affinity for plants, promoted you from Soil Supervisor to Head of the Herbology Society, an accomplishment you were especially proud of.
You raised a brow at Fred, “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be, darling,” he replied.
You rolled your eyes before collecting a list of duties from a nearby table. “These are the tasks that Professor Sprout would like us to complete before sundown.” Fred hovered over your shoulder as you trailed your fingers down the parchment, “Clean the plant beds, prune the wiggentrees, trim the sugar shrubs, and re-pot the puffapods.”
Fred groaned, “We’ll be here ‘til next Saturday with all this busywork! Listen, Y/N, I’ve got to be down to the pitch by three. We’re playing Slytherin! I can’t miss it!”
“Not to worry, you won’t miss your precious little Quidditch match. In fact, it could be much worse,” you insisted, “I once had to re-pot the fanged geranium, and suffice to say, they are not a fan of re-potting!”
“And you do this for fun?” Fred shook his head, “Bloody hell, woman…”
You pivoted on your foot and started for the edge of the greenhouse, smirking to yourself before uttering, “I could ask the same of Quidditch.” You could practically hear his eyes rolling in his skull. “Most of the game’s spent beating and bruising each other, which doesn’t sound very fun at all. Honestly, it sounds quite boorish.”
He laughed humorlessly, “Is this why Hufflepuff is so bloody bad at Quidditch every year? Everyone’s too busy picking flowers when they should be practicing?”
“Which is exactly what you’re doing now,” you quipped, tossing him a pair of gloves, which he scoffed at before dejectedly throwing them on. You glanced at the clock: 9:00. You had approximately seven hours to tackle the greenhouse with Fred.
“Now, it’s very important that you follow my instructions carefully,” you began, kneeling to inspect the bed of bouncing bulbs that were tethered in place, “Every plant you see in this room is extremely delicate and must be handled with great care.”
Fred raised his brows, as if to question the gravity of the task.
You sighed, “Will you at least try to care?”
“I’ll make you a deal,” he grinned, kneeling beside you, “I’ll do as you ask, exactly how you ask, if you come to our ‘precious little Quidditch game’ later.”
You laughed, “All right, it’s a deal.”
Fred firmly shook your hand, and for the first time, you felt as though he was your friend.
————-————-
“Am I doing this right?” Fred asked as he haphazardly trimmed the sugar shrubs with a pair of dull hedge shears.
You chuckled, “Not the prettiest, but good enough.”
He laughed as he tried to assess his progress. He caught sight of the clock, which read 11:00, before spotting that fateful umbrella flower — except it wasn’t the same as before. Its vibrant pink and yellow flowers had severely paled; its stature slightly wilted.
“It’s not good for the plants, you know…” you said suddenly.
Fred’s eyes met yours.
“Transforming their size, changing their chemistry… literally lighting them up…” Fred looked down, “It places enormous stress on their fragile bodies. Most are drained of essential nutrients in the process, and too often their growth becomes permanently stunted.”
Fred couldn’t muster a single word. Instead, he stared at you with a newfound emptiness behind his eyes.
“I’m sure you hadn’t realized,” you said sadly, “Most people don’t.”
Fred tried to string together some sort of response, but nothing was coming to the surface.
You cleared your throat, “C’mon, we’ve only got a few more.”
It wasn’t long before you reached the last of the shrubs. Most of your time was spent trimming in silence; the occasional snip ringing through the humid air. But when it was time to show Fred how to prune the wiggentrees, he spoke at last.
“I genuinely had no idea,” he admitted sheepishly, “But I am so sorry, Y/N.”
“It’s not me you should be apologizing to,” you contended, “But I forgive you on their behalf.”
You intricately reviewed how to prune a wiggentree, and Fred clung to every word that fell from your lips. Every word spoken rattled his bones. While it was true that Fred enjoyed getting into mischief, it was never his intention to hurt anyone — or anything, for that matter.
And he certainly never wanted to hear the deep-rooted pain that laced your words ever again.
After a couple of hours, Fred managed to prune a decent number of wiggentrees with only a few minor scrapes to prove it. You jovially applauded him as he bowed theatrically.
“You’re not coming for my position as Head of the Herbology Society, are you?” you teased, swapping your shears for a trowel.
“Can’t get anything past this one — just too smart and pretty,” he winked.
Your face flushed with a burning heat, a bundle of butterflies bursting inside of you. Eager to avoid eye contact, you swiftly turned to lead him to your final task: re-potting the puffapods. You tried your best to focus on what Professor Sprout asked of you, but hearing Fred compliment you sent you into a complete and utter tizzy.
Fred cheekily chuckled at your sudden silence as you reached the middle of the greenhouse. You quickly composed yourself, struggling to tame the butterflies ricocheting in your stomach.
“Re-potting the puffapods is a lot easier than it sounds. Honestly, I find that using my bare hands gives me a much better understanding of where their roots lie. You don’t want to disturb those, you see.”
You tossed your gloves to the side, and Fred followed suit. You rolled your sleeves to your elbows before gently digging your fingers into the soft soil of the pot closest to you. “Here,” you nodded for Fred to come closer, “Come see what they feel like.”
His stomach flipped as your delicate fingers clasped around his large, rough hand. You guided his hand under the soil until you could both feel the roots that intertwined below. You suddenly realized how close you stood to Fred. Every breath that escaped from his lungs practically shot into your own. The same warmth that had flooded your face earlier returned once more.
“Scoop around those to move it to its new home,” you explained softly, carefully maneuvering his hand to scoop the purple puffapod.
You smiled at him, wondering if he was thinking the same things you were: how the morning had been surprisingly delightful; how bolts of electricity zipped through your body when your hands met; and how the autumnal sun was occasionally peeking through pockets of clouds. It beared down just enough warmth through the sheer greenhouse windows to comfort you.
You shook your thoughts and asked Fred, “Think you got it?”
“Think so,” he nodded, an encouraging smile plastered to his lips.
He demonstrated his competency with the task on his first attempt, so you trusted him to the smaller puffapods as you began tackling the bigger ones.
You sighed, “Perhaps we’ll see some Painted Ladies today.”
Fred furrowed his brows, “Rest assured, there are plenty of those hanging in this ancient castle.”
“No!” you laughed, “Not literal painted ladies — the butterflies!”
Fred laughed with you, “The butterflies? Who in the bloody hell decided ‘Painted Lady’ would be a proper name for a butterfly?”
“I don’t know that, but I do know that hundreds of them migrate in around this time of year,” you explained, “It’s a sight to see! Trelawney always says, ‘Good fortune will be brought unto those who witness it!’”
Fred laughed at your spot-on impression, “Is that so?”
“‘Course! And if the rain holds out a little longer, they might just make an appearance,” you said, peering outside.
You perused the landscape in silence. Without turning back to Fred, you muttered, “Seven years here, and I still haven’t seen it.”
He instantly sensed the deep disappointment that colored your words. And he realized that this actually mattered to you. He recognized that this was something you believed was truly absent from your time here — time that was quickly running down the hourglass.
Mollifying your melancholy, Fred changed the subject, and before you knew it, you were both animatedly chatting as you slaved over Sprout’s tedious task. He told you all about how his mum made him de-gnome the gardens growing up, and how everything “just tasted better” with fresh ingredients he and his siblings harvested from their backyard. Meanwhile you taught him to identify various trees by the pattern of their leaves and identified the part of the year each flower flourished.
He admired your commitment to such seemingly insignificant creatures. Though he’d only known you shortly, he knew you loved these plants; the way your eyes lit up at the sight of a fresh bud blooming in the bushes; or the way you rattled off the perfect way to keep a flutterby bush alive in the dead of winter. You had him longing to find beauty in even the darkest corners of the world.
And part of that beauty he had found in you.
Once you finished the last of the puffapods, you dusted your hands and turned to Fred. A sudden sadness bloomed in your chest as you watched him wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead.
Fred felt a similar sorrow burrowing inside of him.
“Well, we did it… And with,” you glanced at the clock, “about an hour to spare.”
He nodded, “It was nice working with you today, Y/N.”
You nodded, “Yeah, you as well!”
“It’s surprising how much beauty lies in even the tiniest of plants.”
Your eyes sparkled up at him in response; as if he were a beautiful rosebud basking in the sun with its petals swaying in the gentle wind. He didn’t want to let the moment go.
“I was thinking maybe you and me could — bloody hell!”
Fred’s eyes widened, a grin exploding onto his face. Before you could ask, he swiveled you to face the long anticipated miracle.
Your hand flew to your mouth, “Merlin!”
You bolted out of the greenhouse as Fred trailed closely behind. Hundreds of butterflies soared overhead; their bright orange wings sonorously fanning your skin. The steady breeze that flitted through the air could’ve soothed a thousand scorching summers.
You slowly reached upwards, allowing the dainty creatures to dance around your fingertips. You laughed at the sensation, and at the fact that you couldn’t help but cry.
You were levitating at the hands of one of Mother Nature’s finest masterpieces.
Fred was dazed and delighted standing there amidst the storm of butterflies. Despite this, he was careful not to encroach on a moment so destined for you that it felt wrong to impose himself on the memory.
You shook your head with laughter as you turned to face him, “Can you believe it?!”
He shook his head in disbelief, “This is wicked!”
“To think I might have missed it if it would have just been me in the greenhouse! I would’ve been finished hours ago!” you exclaimed, abruptly hugging Fred in the process, “Thank you, Fred! Thank you!”
And as if he’d done it a million times before, Fred wrapped his arms around you. The sweet scent of your perfume nearly intoxicated him, and the thunderous flight of Painted Ladies became his new favorite melody. The familiar sensation of butterflies fluttering inside of him consumed him yet again.
“Thankyou,” he said softly.
You pulled away, your hands lingering on his arms. “Guess you better get going. Don’t want to miss the big match!”
“But I’ll see you in the stands, yeah? You promised,” he playfully reminded you.
“Definitely,” you replied, a warm blush flooding your face.
You waved goodbye as Fred started over the hill. He practically skipped towards the Quidditch pitch and recalled Trelawney’s famous claim: good fortune will be brought unto those who witness the great migration.
Summary: Your father is Lucius Malfoy’s cousin, and after the war, it was really difficult for you to find a job because of your last name. So your mother and Mrs. Weasley came up with a crazy idea. A fake marriage between you and Fred Weasley.
Last Chapter! (I combined the last chapter and the epilogue cuz they are not too long.)
Pairing: Fred Weasley X Malfoy!Fem!Reader
Warnings: food mention, mention of divorce, people pretending to choke, proposal.
Word Count: 1.8k
Disclaimer: photos used in the header are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.
Please do NOT repost or translate my work on any platform! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)
Fred walked downstairs, noticing a faint smell of apples in the joke shop. “So are we selling apple juice now, Georgie?” he joked.
But George looked confused, “What apple juice? I could only smell caramel-” And then the answer finally came to George, “Amortentia!”
Fred followed George to the shelf displaying amortentia and immediately realized a firecracker just exploded next to this shelf, causing at least four bottles of amortentia to break and the love potion inside to spill.
George waved his wand and cleaned up the mess, but a satisfied smirk soon appeared on George’s lips, “Strange. Didn’t know you liked apples this much.”
“Shut up and go back to work!” Fred raised his voice, covering for the fact that he’s a complete mess now.
That fainting smell of apple that’s still lingering in the shop also had a dash of the scent of book pages in it. And this combination could only remind Fred of one person.
You.
The person whom he married out of a dare. The person who he fell in love with during the process. The person who just walked out of his life.
George noticed the change in Fred’s expression. How defeat was now written all over his face. “Mate, you need to do something. You can’t just let her walk away like that.”
“What can I do?” Fred sighed, “Maybe she’s been waiting for this all the time.”
George sighed with Fred. This wasn’t like his brother. Soon the lingering smell of amortentia caught his attention, and a brilliant idea popped into George’s mind. “She has feelings for you too, and I can prove it to you!”
~
You pushed open the door of the joke shop. George just called you claiming that there’s an emergency, so you rushed to the joke shop immediately after work.
George approached you with a small glass vial, “Y/N, this is the new perfume I just made. I need your opinion.”
So this is the emergency??
You looked at George, couldn’t decipher what his smile meant. But you did know one thing. In fact, everyone who went to school with the twins should know the rule: be careful of what they handed to you. So you stepped away from that vial and asked with caution, “When did the joke shop start selling perfume?”
“Oh, we are always trying to expand our business,” George noticed how you became alert, so he added, “I swear to Merlin, this is not a prank!”
Still finding his smile suspicious, but for Merlin’s sake, you still decided to take the vial.
“Does it smell good? What does it smell like?” George asked carefully.
“Hmm…” The perfume did smell very good. You could smell the sweetness of cinnamon, a dash of gunpowder, but it also smelled so familiar. It smelled like…Fred’s cologne? “George, I’m pretty sure someone else has already made a perfume like this.”
“Really? How so?” George felt his heart beating at his throat, so scared that you might say another person’s name.
“Isn’t this just Fred’s cologne?” You were finding this unbelievable. How could George not recognize his own twin’s cologne?
“Oh really!!” Hearing a definitive answer from you has made George so happy that he pulled you into a hug. “Got it! Thank you for your opinion! You’re the best!”
“You’re welcome…?” Watching George being so happy that he could start dancing at any minute, you were beginning to think that the chemicals in the perfume were toxic. How could making a plagiarized perfume make a man so happy?
~
Two days later, you apparated to the joke shop again. It was raining outside. Maybe the weather was trying to set the tone for what was about to happen next. After taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door of the twins’ apartment, the apartment that you called home for the past year.
Fred opened the door, letting you in without saying a word. You tried not to look at him so you could appear indifferent and won’t be affected by his expressions.
“Here’s the divorce document,” you said as you took out all the paper in your bag. He took the documents and flipped through the papers quickly, still not saying anything at all.
You couldn’t tell if his silence meant he’s also not ready to say goodbye or he just had nothing to say to you. But you tried not to overthink as you continued, “Oh, before you sign it, you still have one wish left. What do you want me to do?”
“What if I said,” he finally looked at you, his eyes capturing yours, “I don’t want you to go?”
His words were like a drum in your ears, rendered you speechless. Before you could fully process what he just said, Fred continued, “It might sound crazy, but for the past few days, I realized I just couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore. I know I’ve lived 20 years without you perfectly fine, but now that I’ve had you in my life, I don’t ever want to live without you again. I know I could be insensitive sometimes, and I probably did something stupid that made you mad in the past year, but I’m willing to change if you tell me to.”
“All I’m trying to say is,” he took a deep breath and continued, “Please allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. And please don’t divorce me.“
You finally let out a soft laugh. That’s Mr. Darcy’s line in Pride and Prejudice. You remembered reading this part to him during Christmas, and you couldn’t believe that he actually memorized this line.
Fred panicked when you weren’t talking, “But of course, if you really want to, I wouldn’t stop you. I-“
“You know, you don’t have to use your last wish on this,” you stopped him, “I was going to say yes anyway. But If you insist, that won’t be a problem with me.”
Fred’s eyes widened as he processed your words, “Wait, does that mean-“
You answered his question by pulling him down and pressing a kiss on his lips. He was shocked by your sudden action but soon kissed you back with his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer to him.
So this is what it feels like to kiss him, and it’s so much better than how you’ve imagined it would be. It started a soft kiss but soon became more passionate, as if you were making up for all the time you two spent on being oblivious.
“Should’ve done this earlier.” A smirk appeared on Fred’s lips when you finally pulled away.
“Idiot,” you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks were still heated.
He chuckled before giving you another soft peck on the lips. His hands were still resting on your waist.
“And you’re still this idiot’s wife.”
～(warning: people pretending to choke, food mention)~
“Y/N, there’s a Mr. Weasley looking for you,” the receptionist raised her eyebrows and smiled at you.
“Thanks! I’ll be done in a minute!” You quickly finished the last sentence and looked at Luna from across the table with your puppy eyes.
She chuckled, “Alright, you can leave early today.”
“Thanks, Luna, you’re the best!” You flicked your wand to pack up your bag before running to the door.
“Tell Fred I said hi!” you heard Luna’s voice behind you.
“I will!”
A month after your fake marriage ended, you quit your job at Whizz Hard Books. You didn’t want to work in a place that wouldn’t accept who you really are.
Ginny introduced you to Luna Lovegood and The Quibbler. You immediately fell in love with the whimsical ideas and style of The Quibbler, and Luna gave you a new job as you two hit it off very quickly. So this is where you work now. No need to hide your background and use a fake last name. This place accepted you for who you are.
Fred was at the door, opening his arms when he saw you running to him. “Happy one-year anniversary, darling!”
You giggled as you ran into his arms, “and this time, it’s real.”
“Yep,” he pressed a kiss on your forehead, “ready?”
You nodded, and the next second you two apparated to your favorite restaurant.
The dinner was delicious, and for dessert, Fred ordered your favorite cake. But when you were enjoying the cake, you suddenly felt something hard inside. This was extremely dangerous, for you could’ve swallowed it if you weren’t paying attention. You were just about to complain when you finally realized what it was.
It’s a ring!
You were surprised. Was Fred trying to propose? But last time you checked, you two were still legally a married couple.
But this also seemed like what he would do on your one-year anniversary. You were sure he was waiting to see your surprised face, and an idea soon came to you.
You pretended that you were trying to pick up your spoon because your elbow “accidentally” swept it down on the floor a few seconds ago. When you were sure Fred couldn’t see you, you slid the ring on your finger. Then you got up and took another bite of the cake like nothing out of the ordinary happened.
A few seconds later, you started coughing. Your brows were furrowed as your hands reached for your neck like you just choked on something.
Fred was freaking out, knowing that he’s the reason behind all this, “Darling, are you alright?”
The only response you could produce was a few glottal sounds and you looked like you were almost crying.
Fred ran to you as fast as possible. He wanted to help, but he had no idea what to do as his brain was in an absolute mess now. The only thing he could manage to do was apologizing again and again, “I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have done that. Baby, I’m so sorry…”
The noise you two were making attracted the other customers’ attention, and you saw a waiter approaching you with his wand, trying to help. You knew it’s probably time to stop this prank.
“Are you talking about this?” You finally stopped acting and waved your left hand in front of him.
Fred’s expression froze, still trying to recover from the terror of accidentally hurting you. After a few moments, he finally realized, “Wait, does that mean…”
“YES!” You chuckled.
Fred’s furrowed brows finally unfolded as a bright smile appeared on his lips. He picked you up and spun you around, “She said YES!”
The crowd around you was clapping and cheering while your husband was cheering himself as well.
You giggled, “Freddie, you know we never went through with the divorce, right? So technically, I’m still your wife.”
“I know, darling, but I figured that I owe you a proper proposal,” he said while pressing multiple soft kisses on your face, “Plus, I just want to make this official. I love you, darling.”
“I love you too,” You smiled as your lips found his again, “I love you most ardently.”
A/N: I can’t believe I really finished this series asdfgfgjk Thank you guys so so much for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking this series. I can’t tell you how much your support means to me❤️
Summary: Your father is Lucius Malfoy’s cousin, and after the war, it was really difficult for you to find a job because of your last name. So your mother and Mrs. Weasley came up with a crazy idea. A fake marriage between you and Fred Weasley.
In this chapter: It’s already the last month of your fake marriage. Is all of this really going to end?
Pairing: Fred Weasley X Malfoy!Fem!Reader
Warnings: angst, misunderstanding, insecurity, mean relatives, reader being jealous?
Word Count: 2.5k
A/N: I apologize for not updating for so long cuz I was feeling burnt out. And I apologize in advance for this chapter, but since it’s Pride and Prejudice themed, I had to include a part like this afghjldfk Also, I may or may not named one of the characters after a Pride and Prejudice character:)
Pictures are from Pinterest. Credit goes to the original owners.
Please do NOT repost or translate my work on any platform! Thank you! Reblogs and comments are always welcome:)
Sometimes you would wonder what would it be like if you and Fred were friends when you were still in Hogwarts. And as your mind wandered through these imaginary scenarios, you would also daydream about what would it be like if you went to the Yule Ball with him. But regardless, just being in this moment, dancing with him to your favorite love song, was magical enough.
You were invited to Fred’s cousin’s wedding, along with the other Weasleys. Playing the character of Fred’s wife for almost eleven months now made you a regular guest to all kinds of the Weasley family gatherings.
As the music played and the guests joining the bride and groom on the dance floor, you and Fred decided to join, too.
“I’m definitely playing this song at my own wedding!” you were excited when your favorite love song started playing.
“And I’m definitely play something livelier,” Fred smiled as he commented.
“Glad we’re not having the same wedding then,” you glared at him, trying hard not to step on his foot. “I have a feeling our idea of an ideal wedding would be completely different.”
“So what is your ideal wedding?” Fred asked. You looked up at him and realized he looked sincere.
“I haven’t really thought about it, but a small wedding with my close family and friends would be nice,” you answered. You left out one detail. All you could think of now was what would it be like if you could really marry Fred. But of course, you wouldn’t tell him that, “I’m assuming yours would be something more exciting.”
“Of course!” If you paid attention, you would notice the blush climbing up on Fred’s cheeks, but you were too flustered by your own daydreams.
“Let me guess, someone would probably turn into a canary.”
“Very likely,” he replied while twirling you around with the music, “and that someone is probably you!”
You laughed as you twirled. You weren’t paying close attention to your steps, and your right foot tripped your left foot. But you landed in Fred’s arm.
You looked up at him as your heartbeat started to pick up. Your lips were only inches away now that you could already feel his breath brushing lightly against your lips.
You didn’t know how long has passed as you two both froze on the spot. Just a little bit closer and your lips would be pressing together. You never knew you wanted this kiss so desperately until now, and the fact that this was already the last month of your one-year marriage contract made it worse. You would be lying if you say you have never fantasized about Fred reciprocating your feelings, and this fake marriage could turn into a real one by the end of the year.
“Fred?” A voice interrupted this moment and your daydream.
Fred pulled away awkwardly with the blush still tainting his cheeks. “Mrs. Collins? Maureen?” You turned and saw the owner of the voice was an older woman and beside her was a beautiful younger woman, who’s about your age.
“Freddie! I haven’t seen you in ages!” Mrs. Collins pulled Fred into a hug, and when she finally let go of him, her eyes turned to look at you.
“Oh, Mrs. Collins, this is Y/N.”
You put on a polite smile and held out your hand, “Hi, I’m Y/N-”
“Malfoy!” she cut you off, without acknowledging your hand, “I’ve heard that Freddie married a Malfoy. How interesting! How did you two meet?”
The way she said “Malfoy” and her question stung you. From past experiences, you knew this conversation is probably not going to end well. “Our parents are actually old friends, so we met when we were still little,” you answered, hands fidgeting and not looking at Mrs. Collins.
“What a coincidence! Cause Maureen and Fred have also known each other since they were kids, isn’t that right, Freddie?”
“Yea,” Fred smiled, not noticing how your expression froze in an awkward state, “Oh, Y/N, this is Maureen. We used to be friends when we were kids until she transferred to Beauxbatons.”
“Hey, it wasn’t like I had a choice!” She slapped on Fred’s arm, causing Fred to laugh while pretending to be hurt.
Watching them interact so naturally, you suddenly felt like you were interrupting something. A horrible feeling crept up in your mind. What if there’s already someone in Fred’s life, yet you still forced him to sign this stupid marriage contract?
“And Maureen’s an interior designer now! So if your little shop needs a makeover, I’m sure Maureen’s willing to help,” Mrs. Collins suggested. Her tone and expression all reminded you of your mum when she tried to set you and Fred up.
“Oh right! Fred,” Mrs. Collins continued, “come say hi to the rest of the family! I’m sure they all missed you a lot.”
“I would love to, but Y/N…” Fred looked at you. You couldn’t figure out what his expression meant? Was this an excuse because he didn’t want to go? Or did he want to go?
You didn’t know why insecurity started to cloud your brain. Growing up, you always thought you’re proud most of the time, but this was not the case when it comes to your last name. You knew you shouldn’t feel ashamed of it. The history and crime this name carried have nothing to do with you. And you knew feeling ashamed of it gives it power over you, but all you could do was retreating to your shell whenever someone brought up your last name.
So your final decision was, “It’s okay, you can go. I’ll go find Ginny.”
“Great!” Mrs. Collins started dragging Fred to her family’s table. Fred was still looking at you, but then you heard Mrs. Collins say, “Don’t worry about Y/N! I know she probably wouldn’t want anything to do with our sort of people,anyway.”
Your stomach sank. What did she mean by “our sort of people”? And more importantly, what did being your sort of people imply?
A few months ago, you thought changing your last name by marriage could solve everything. But the cruel fact was that it changed nothing.
And maybe it was your insecurity talking, but how could Fred not say anything when Mrs. Collins made such a comment? Did he not understand what she meant? Or did he…agree with her?
After they disappeared in the crowd, you immediately apparate back to the apartment like you were fleeing a monster from your nightmare. That was the only logical move you could think of at that time.
~
“Fred,” you kicked off your heels after you got back to the apartment from work and began rambling on about your day, “you won’t believe what happened today. I-” But the words choked in your throat when you saw another person in the kitchen. You recognized it was Maureen Collins from the wedding a week ago.
You thought you already forgot about what Mrs. Collins said to you at the wedding, but those words immediately rushed back when you saw Maureen again.
“Oh, Y/N, you’re back!” Fred exclaimed, and he noticed the box in your hand, “Is that my favorite pie!”
“Yea, I didn’t know…” It was supposed to be a surprise, but now it just felt extra when it seemed like they were already cooking a meal.
“Oh, Y/N, I’m sorry we didn’t tell you earlier. This was really last-minute,” Maureen explained.
“Yea, Maureen was here to help with the makeover of the shop, and it’s almost dinner time when we were done, so we thought-”
“No worries,” you cut Fred off before he could finish with the explanation. You didn’t like the way he sounded. It almost made you feel like you were a party pooper.
“We can just eat the pie tomorrow!” You tried to put on a smile when you shoved the pie into the fridge.
“Brilliant! All sorted now! Y/N, come help! Dinner would be ready faster if we had three people cooking.”
“Yea,” Maureen chuckled, “Fred was just talking about the first time you two tried to cook together. It must be difficult having to cook with an absolute idiot, let alone being forced to live with him for one year.”
Your heart sank. Fred told her that the marriage is fake? According to your contract, he shouldn’t have told anyone, unless…
Watching Maureen cooking and laughing with Fred, your mind just couldn’t shake off the images of her living here and being his realwife. You had to admit that you didn’t like these images, but why should you care if someone else is going to live here instead of you. Your mum forced you to live here anyway, and now you could finally go home.
Home. You sighed as the image of home appeared in your mind. And you finally admitted that for the past few months, you also considered this apartment your home.
But you put on the contract yourself stating that you both could date whoever you like during this fake marriage, and you had no business in interfering with Fred and Maureen’s relationship now.
So you picked up your jacket again, “Actually, I’m having dinner with my friend tonight-”
“But I thought you were planning to eat at home,” Fred pointed at the fridge, referring to the pie.
“Oh, that’s for tomorrow,” you lied, even though you knew your excuses didn’t match with what you just said a few minutes ago. You panicked, so you proceeded to say something that you never thought you would say, “Plus, I need to give you two space.” You even said it with a wink, covering for the fact that you panicked, and you just rushed out the door before anyone could say anything.
~
You went back to your parents’ house for the night and only returned to the apartment the next morning. Knowing the exact time when Fred would usually go downstairs to the joke shop, you successfully apparated into the apartment without bumping into anyone. You just wanted to avoid seeing him.
You decided to start packing up. There are only less than two weeks left, and you didn’t want to occupy other people’s home for longer than you needed. Your pride demanded a graceful exit.
You knew it would be much easier and quicker if you used magic. Just by a flick of your wand, everything would be packed. It would be so clean like you’ve never been here before, but somehow, you just wanted to take your time with it.
And it was until you started packing when you realized how attached you were to this little apartment. One year wasn’t that long, just like what you said at the beginning of all this, but every corner of this apartment had trails of you living here and your memories.
It was just a contract, you tried to convince yourself, and now the time’s up. But it still pained you to remove your every trail. You realized you were not only removing your existence from this apartment but also Fred Weasley’s life.
“Y/N?” You were so busy going down memory lane that you didn’t notice the series of footsteps coming upstairs. You turned and saw Fred, who looked very confused now as he glanced around and saw the packed boxes. “What are you doing?”
“Just packing up,” you tried to say it as indifferently as possible, “there are only two weeks left, so I thought I should probably start moving my stuff away.”
“Oh,” Fred paused for a moment before the corners of his mouth twitched into an awkward smile, “guess you’re finally free.”
“Yea, and so are you,” you tried to force a laugh, maybe he’s always waiting for this moment, the moment that he’s finally free, “I’ll move back to my parents’ house this week so that the divorce would look more realistic.”
His mouth opened, and you could tell that he was trying to say something. And for a second, you thought maybe he’s trying to think of a way to stop you. To say that he didn’t want you to leave.
But all he said was, “Okay.”
~
It was only around 6:30 am when you woke up. There were too many things on your mind that you couldn’t even enjoy staying asleep at ease. It was your last night here, after all.
Fred was still asleep with both his arm and leg on top of you. He’s an obnoxious sleeper, but you didn’t mind.
You snuggled closer to him as your mind went through the nights that he comforted you when you couldn’t sleep, the sleepless nights that you would chat and laugh with so much ease, and the mornings when you woke with your limbs tangled together. It all felt like a dream, and maybe now it’s time to wake up.
But before you do that, before you had to exit from his life, you just wanted to stay in this moment and stay in his arms for a little longer. You closed your eyes as you took in that familiar cinnamon scent and his cologne. Let’s just dream for a little longer.
~
Fred woke up with the other side of the bed empty. In a haze of sleepiness, he thought you just went to the bathroom. You would always come back to bed and try to squeeze in a few minutes of sleep before finally getting up and getting ready. But you didn’t come back today.
In fact, the apartment was awfully quiet today. He couldn’t hear your footsteps rushing in and out of the bedroom to get ready for work. And he didn’t hear you yelling things like “Did you see my keys?” or “FRED! Where did my apple juice go??”
Fred got up and tried to search for you in the living room, only to realize that most of your stuff was already gone. He collapsed on the nearby couch, not sure if he was still tired or feeling empty that you were gone.
How could you just walk away so easily? How could you just pull away from all of this almost like nothing ever happened? More importantly, how could you tease him about Maureen like it didn’t matter at all to you? And here he thought you two had great chemistry.
But without that and the contract of being fake husband and wife, Fred was confident that he could say you became friends. Even if you didn’t, at least you were roommates for a year, and that should induce some sort of emotion too.
But no, you just walked away, and all he could do was just getting used to not having you in his life anymore.
Hi everyone!! This is for the lovely @heloisedaphnebrightmore ‘s 1k celebration! Congrats!! you totally deserve it! I really like this fic and i hope you all like it as well!
Summary: Fred Weasley has been completely insufferable and mean since third year. Unfortunately the reader still feels for him even after he takes his teasing too far
Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader
Word Count: 3.6k
Warnings: Angst with a happy end
You didn’t mean to blow up on him like that. You didn’t mean to be blinded by unadulterated rage and let those words leave your lips. But if you were being honest with yourself, he thoroughly deserved it. After years and years of letting his words carve chinks into your armor, you were through. You simply couldn’t handle it anymore.
You had sat in the common room in your favorite skirt, hands folded neatly in your lap. You kept reaching up to smooth your hair, attempting to look your best. Cormac was supposed to meet you in the common room at noon. He was supposed to escort you to Hogsmeade where you’d eat at Madame Pudifoot’s. It was supposed to be romantic.
You were excited; it was your first date after all. You didn’t quite know if you fancied Cormac. He was brash and occasionally rude, but the feeling of being wanted to outweigh his flaws. It was rare that a boy would give you attention, so when Cormac had suavely asked you out, you couldn’t help but become giddy.
Angelina and Katie had helped you pick out an outfit. It was simple- a black skirt and a simple sweater- but you felt pretty nonetheless.
So you sat and waited. And waited. And waited. For hours you sat on the same sofa in the same position, slowly letting your resolve disappear.
You didn’t know what you had expected. Cormac was known to be an arsehole. Yet, the sting of rejection still affected you, causing you to push back tears.
Around three in the afternoon, Katie and Angelina stepped through the portrait hole. They were laughing about something, smiling wide. But when they caught sight of you, their smiles dropped.
AN: Hi everyone! Please just pretend that Fred didn’t get banned from quidditch in his seventh year please and thank you.
It was no secret that school was not one of Fred Weasley’s strong suits. He’d much rather spend his time goofing off with his brother, playing quidditch, or planning for the shop than spending countless hours completing assignments and studying for exams. He simply had better things to do. And while he knew that his future laid outside the realm of academic achievements, not everyone quite believed him. Or more accurately, believed in him.
So that was how he ended up in Snape’s office after class, the potions professor staring at him with his arms crossed and McGonagall looking down at him.
“Mr. Weasley do you know why we have called you here?” McGonagall asked sternly. Fred squirmed slightly in his seat.
“I’m not sure Minnie,” he said with a cocky smirk, “I may need you to enlighten me.” Snape scoffed from the other side of the desk.
“Well, first of all, I must remind you that my name is Professor McGonagall and you shall not call me by anything else,” she said seriously. Fred’s grin never faltered. “But it has come to attention that you are failing potions,” McGonagall said. Fred was surprised for a moment. He knew that he wasn’t doing particularly well, but he never imagined that he was failing. He turned and saw Snape smirking at him.
“If you have any interest in passing my class and graduating, I expect you to get a tutor,” Snape said eventually, a hint of smugness entering his tone. Fred frowned. The thing was, he didn’t intend to graduate. He and George were planning to leave in a few months anyway, was it really worth the hassle?
“I think I’ll pass on the tutor,” Fred said, making a move to leave the office. A hand grabbed his shoulder.
“Not so fast Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall warned. Fred turned to face her.
“Yes Minnie?” he asked with an annoyed smile.
“If you want to continue to play quidditch this year, I suggest that you take Professor Snape up on that offer and get a tutor,” McGonagall said with a frown. Fred froze.
“What?” he asked, slightly panicked.
“If your grade in potions does not improve to at least an acceptable, I can not let you participate in the quidditch season,” McGonagall explained. Fred let out a long sigh.
“Fine,” he grumbled, “Just give me the place and time.”
Welcome to another Fred blurb! This takes place post war. Hope you enjoy!
Word count: 1,605
Truthfully, you had always been rather content with your life. During your schooling, you weren’t unpopular, but you weren’t popular. People gravitated towards you, but you never became attached to anyone. You weren’t ever the one to seek other out, but you were there for when others needed you. In fact, if no one had sought you out, you would have spent your school years alone, and you were content with that.
When you graduated, you started working at a muggle flower shop in London, where you rather sneakily used magic to make your flowers the most beautiful in the area. When the war came around two years later, you didn’t hesitate a moment to fight at your old school. The battle was hectic and you met many new faces and a few familiar, including your partner during the first half of the battle, Fred Weasley. He had gotten separated from his brother, and you arrived alone, so there was an unspoken agreement to stick together.
Fred and you worked well together, even in school. He was your partner on occasion during Potions class, and you quite enjoyed his jokes and company. Throughout the battle, you and Fred saved each other on multiple occasions, both of you barely avoiding the cold grasp of death. During it all, a small bit of rubble had hit you as well, leaving a rather ugly cut across the side of your face. Fred broke his leg when wall collapsed and you blasted as much away from him as you could. During the calm period, you helped Fred to the Great Hall, where his family took care of him, and you left to finish the battle. That was the last you saw of Fred.
After the war ended, you returned to your quiet life, coming to work each morning with a small scar you wore on your face with pride. Day in and day out, you worked and went back to your flat, to your books and to your cat, which had become your best and one of your few friends.
One particular Monday, on your day off, you decided to go to your old stomping grounds. You hadn’t been in Diagon Alley in years. In fact, you hadn’t been in touch with any sort of magical shop in almost two years, since the battle and since the war drew to an end.
You entered through the Leaky Cauldron, dipping your head to the patrons you faintly recognized. As you entered Diagon Alley, a nostalgic feeling washed over you. Last time you had been there, most of the shops were closed and it was rather drab and dreary, but now it was like when you were a kid. Bright, bustling, and beautiful. There were so many witches and wizards, dressed how you used to dress, in cloaks and colorful clothing, pointy hats and odd animals on their shoulders. Music played loudly from a nearby shop, which you recognized to be the Weird Sisters. Memories of the Yule Ball faded into your mind and a faint smile formed on your lips as you wandered up the alley.
You felt out of place, wearing your tight jeans and black band t-shirt, containing a muggle band you were sure few people in the alley around you knew of. But the wand tucked into the waist of your jeans made you feel like part of them. As you wandered up the alley, your eyes landed on the one shop you had never been in. Weasley Wizard Wheezes.
It was an incredibly fun looking store, one you were sure you would enjoy, but before the war, you only ever came to Diagon Alley when you absolutely needed to, and your time there was short with no time for stops like this. Now, however, you had all the time in the world.
When you stepped into the shop, it smelled of fireworks and sweets and there were various sounds and flashing lights all around. It was August still, so there were copious amounts of young students bustling around and laughing at everything around. Your smile grew as you ran your hand along a display, looking at the bottled love potions and Puking Pastilles, to other products you truly couldn’t have thought up in your most wild dreams.
As you picked up an odd looking package, you felt someone brush by you and you ignored it, accrediting it to the busy shop, but as you turned over the package in your hand, a voice brought stole your focus. “Well, hello,” a voice you recognized greeted, causing you to turn to the Weasley twin. “Here I thought I’d never see you again.”
Fred smiled at you, but held a confused look on his face. “Loonar Loop Luminators?” you asked him with a small laugh in your voice. You wondered in the back of your mind what he meant by his words, but you brushed it off for the moment.
Fred glanced down to the package in your hand, as he had not noticed it sooner as his eyes focused on your face. “A sort of firework,” he answered proudly and took the product from your hand. “A demonstration, maybe?”
Shrugging lightly, you followed Fred as he led you to the center of the store. “All right, you lot, listen up!” His voice boomed through the store, silencing the many students and grown ups alike. “I’ll be doing a quick demonstration of our Loonar Loop Luminators, so stand clear,” he continued as he opened the package. He placed a small blue tube on the ground, using his wand to light the end of it.
After a few mere seconds, sparks of various colors exploded from the product, reaching the ceiling of the shop and popping into more sparkles. You clapped, along with the rest of the store, as the fireworks exploded beautifully. Fred smiled proudly, his arms crossed over his chest, and waited until the last of the sparks faded to speak once more. “Loonar Loop Luminators can be found over here to the left, in the front of the store,” he finished and swooped down, picking up the expired product. Fred stepped back over to you, an expectant look on his face. “What’d you think?”
“Absolutely brilliant,” you answered with a laugh.
Fred beamed at your words. “You see, if you do it in an open area, and not indoors, it will be a much more grand show. Sparks will fly to the moon, hence the name,” he explained proudly and flashed the box to you, which held a rather smiley moon.
You hummed, a bright look in your eyes. “I reckon that’s quite the sight. I might have to leave here with a few myself.”
Fred smirked, glancing at the box in his hand once more. “Take as many as you want. I couldn’t bear to charge the person who saved my life,” he explained as he led you to the counter, where he tossed the box in a waste bin.
With a small laugh, you shrugged and leaned against the counter as his brother, who was two years younger than you, rung up the many guests. “Well, you saved mine as well, so I had assumed we were even.”
Fred scoffed, checking his watch for a moment before glancing at his brother. “Man the shop for a minute, mate?”
Ron glanced at you and nodded, a smile on his lips. “Take your time.”
“Got a moment?” Fred asked you as he nodded towards the door of his shop.
You glanced at your own watch, pretending to contemplate his words, but shrugged. “I suppose so.”
Fred smirked and led you through the shop, out into Diagon Alley. “I thought you died, you know?” His voice was a little shaky as he spoke, his hands in the pockets of his colorful suit.
“Well, here I am,” you replied lamely, giving him a gentle smile and a small shrug.
With an incredulous look on his face, Fred shook his head at you. “I mourned you, you know?”
Your smile fell at his words, causing you to feel oddly guilty. “Why would you mourn someone you didn’t know to be dead? Someone you barely know?” The words came out a little harsher than you intended, but as Fred led you up Diagon Alley, walking slowly through the crowd, you were sure he understood.
“I want to know you,” Fred said suddenly, his voice insistent. Your mouth fell open, rather surprised by his words, and waited for him to continue. “I always have. That’s why I always convinced others to let me be your partner in class, why I spoke to you as much as I could without bothering you, why I wanted to stay by your side during the battle.” Your face felt warm at his confession and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.
With a gentle blush on your face, you ducked your head and smiled to yourself. “Well, here I am,” you repeated the words you said moments before and glanced up at Fred.
Fred smiled widely at your words, raising his eyebrows. “Will you let me take you to dinner, then?”
For a moment, you bit your lip and pretended to consider his offer. After a brief pause, you spoke softly, “I suppose so.”
“Brilliant,” Fred smirked and stood with his hands in his pockets. “Meet you here at the shop tomorrow? Say seven?”
Nodding gently, you fought the wide grin forming on your lips. “It’s a date.”
the king of extra himself was planning your birthday so how could it not be the most extravagant day ever
freddie had been planning this day for the longesttime
he even got all of his siblings involved to help him
he definitely tired pranking you that morning by ‘pretending today wasn’t your birthday’
but this poor boy couldn’t last more than five minutes because he was just too excited for today
makes a huge speech for you at breakfast in the great hall in front of basically the entire student body
going on about how today should be proclaimed as a world-wide holiday
“attention! today is the most beautiful, sweet, funny, smart, precious girl’s birthday! so lets be sure we wish her a happy day. i’m talking to you, professor snape.”
all of hogwarts kind of just looked at him semi confused, but decided it would be best if they went along with it
ohand most certainly delivered his speech at dumbledoor’s podium, juuust to make sure everyone knew
cue mcgongall shouting at him, but happily thinking of how sweet and in love that boy was
he makes sure all of your classes sing you happy birthday
and would prank any teacher or student who wouldn’t participate in the festivities
needless to say you had heard a few too many off-key happy birthday songs that day
freddie is a scavenger hunt expert!!! and had the most wonderful one set up for you on your special day!
he hid small presents all over the castle with hints, leading you to the next one. until you found your big surprise!
anot so surprise party!
in the gryffindor common room was all of your friends waiting to celebrate you
there was msuic, dancing, a table with all your favorite foods and it was nothing short of perfect
freddie was so proud of himself because you looked like you were having the absolute time of your life
he never felt so lucky in his life because he had the absolute privilege of celebrating you
and knowing freddie, he was already thinking about how he can make next year’s birthday even more special than this
(a/n: hey guys! soooo tomorrow’s my birthday so, i thought i would share some fun birthday freddie headcannons! & tomorrow i will be posting cedric birthday headcannons! anyways, thank you for reading & if you enjoyed please feel free to reblog! see you someplace magical!)
games@wreckofawriter : (soulmate au) the first words of your soulmate speaks to you is tattooed on your body. fred has some rather questionable ones tattooed on his ankle.
when sparks fly@theweasleysredhair : in which fred plans a birthday surprise for his girlfriend without the crucial knowledge that she is terrified of fireworks.
cat and mouse game@lumosandnoxwriting : (nsfw) you and fred have been playing the same game of cat and mouse since your hogwarts days. *personal favorite*
i think he knows@wlntrsldler : based on ‘i think he knows’ by taylor swift. you drunkenly confess your feelings.
Hello, Welcome to my cozy little corner of Harry Potter!
Grab blankets for a relaxing time reading with you and your fictional men.
It’s always rainy here, so make sure you grab some warm butterbeer!
Stuff worth mentioning
My main focus is on Harry Potter and the Wizarding World.
Fanfics and head-canons live in my rough drafts.
I’m going to be writing lots of fluff but I do love toxic relationships so those might get sprinkled in.
I know about whats happening with JK right now. I cant stand it but I love this community that the fans made together. I cant leave it.
Requesting Rules
I usually write “you” and try not to describe the readers so you may live as the the “Reader x Whatever”. I don’t do descriptions for a character request. Sorry about it.
Nsfw is something I dont write for Harry Potter characters but I might consider.
I try to age up the characters in the stories too.
warnings: NSFW, dom!suga, lil degrading…. lotta praise!
word count: 4498
-
This was your worst nightmare. Never in a million years did you think that you were stupid enough to do it, but here you are. Running for your life to the gym where your best friends were practicing, praying to gods that Daichi is strict about no one being on their phones. Because while you were taking very… not school appropriate photos… you accidentally sent one to your best friend, Koushi Sugawara. You didn’t live too far from the school, so you were hoping that by the time you got to the gym that the boys would still be practicing. You could take Suga’s phone, delete the photo, and act like nothing happened.
That was the best case scenario. What actually happened was that you barged into the gym to see the boys cleaning up. Your eyes skimmed the room madly, looking for Suga. Tanaka and Noya ran over to you, but you completely ignored them. Instead you asked where Suga was, desperation in your tone.
“Last I saw he was in the equipment room with Hinata,” Noya said, pointing at the closet across the gym, “I see Hinata’s hair, so if he’s not there you could ask him?”
“Thanks!” you yelled as you took off towards the closet. Daichi looked at you suspiciously as you ran, wanting to call out to you. He didn’t, however, because you had this insane look in your eyes and he definitely didn’t want to be the one to stop you in the middle of this. When you got to the door and looked into the small room, you saw that there was only Hinata inside. He smiled at you, but it quickly vanished when he saw the panic in your expression.
“Are you okay, Y/N?” Hinata asked worriedly, stepping towards you.
“No time,” you panted, “Where is Suga?”
“Changing I think?” he said in a questioning tone. You nodded, taking off once more.
You were very aware of the eyes on you at the moment. The entire team wanted to know what was happening, but you wouldn’t stop running. You couldn’t. You had to get to him before he checked his phone. So, despite the exhaustion creeping in your legs, you ran as fast as you could.
Finally, you made it to the changing room. You didn’t think twice as you swung the door open, “Suga!”
Silence. He was there. Standing right in front of you. He was sitting down…
With his phone in his hand.
“No,” you cried out, trying to take the phone from his hands. He just looked at you with wide eyes. He moved the phone away from your reach, standing up so he could hold it over you.
“I have a feeling you didn’t mean to send me that,” he quipped, looking down at you with an amused smile.
“Stop smiling at me, you jerk!” you whined, jumping up in an attempt to reach the phone, “It was an accident!”
“You were in my jersey,” he grinned, looking up at the photo once more.
Defeat. That’s all you felt. Utter defeat.
You fell to your knees in exhaustion, dropping your face in your hands, “Can we pretend it didn’t happen please?”
He looked down at you with a soft smile before handing you the phone, “Here,” he said softly, “Delete it.”
You looked up at him in surprise, “Really?”
“Yeah,” he chuckled, allowing you to take it from his hands, “You didn’t mean to send it. I’m not going to keep it if you don’t want me to.” He sunk down to his knees in front of you, a warm smile on his face. He watched you as you deleted it, a small inch of relief taking you over.
“Thank you,” you whispered, keeping your head down as you handed his phone back to him, “Can we pretend that it didn’t happen?”
He was silent for a moment before he finally answered, “No. No I don’t think so.”
You flinched slightly, your frown growing deeper, “It was an accident, Suga.”
He nodded, shoving his phone back into his pocket, “I understand that you sending it was an accident, but-” his hand reached out to your chin, slowly lifting your face up until your eyes met his, “wearing my jersey? That wasn’t an accident, was it?”
“No,” you whispered, stunned by the look in his eyes.
“Didn’t think so,” he grinned, “Who were you going to send it to?”
“No one. I was just- I just wanted to take a photo.”
“In my jersey? With my name across your back?” his voice was deep, slightly strained. It was as if remembering the photo, picturing the way your half naked body looked as you sat on your knees, legs spread open to show your lacy black underwear… seriously affected him. His thumb gently brushed your cheek, “What else have you done while wearing my jersey?”
Your face turned bright red, making Suga chuckle. You wanted to lie. Say that the photo was the only thing you had done, but he knew you better than that. He would know you were lying.
“I guess that answers my question, doesn’t it?” he grinned happily, standing up from the ground. You watched him curiously, but he didn’t speak. He just stuck out his hand to help you off the ground.
“You’re not angry, are you?” you asked sheepishly, not brave enough to look him in the eyes.
“Definitely not angry, Y/N,” he answered you, “I don’t think anybody would be angry about that.” You sighed a breath of relief, thankful that you weren’t going to be lectured. He smiled down at you, ruffling your hair slightly.
“Okay so since that’s dealt with,” you laughed awkwardly, looking down at your feet, “I’m going to go home now. And drown myself in embarrassment.” You turned to leave, but Suga stopped you by holding onto your wrist.
“You’re not leaving just yet,” he smiled, stepping towards you. His free hand cradled the back of your neck, moving it to where you were looking up at him, “We-”
He was abruptly cut off by Hinata and Kageyama bursting into the room. When they saw the position Suga was holding you in, it was almost as if they froze in midair. You smiled sheepishly at the boys, pulling yourself away from Suga. Begrudgingly he let you go, looking at the two boys with a glare.
“I’m gonna go home, okay?” you smiled up at Suga, “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“I’ll walk you home, just let me finish getting ready okay?” you nodded at him, squeezing past the two first years to get out of the door.
“I’ll be in the gym waiting okay? I wanna say hi to Kiyoko.”
=
The walk back to your house was strangely quiet. Normally you and Suga talk the entire way there and occasionally he’d come in and hang with you just to talk about whatever weird topic the two of you could land on. But today he was silent. You knew that sending the photo was going to make things a little awkward, but he won’t even look at you right now.
When you finally made it to your door, he smiled at you. It was the first time he even acknowledged you since you left school.
“Are you wanting to come in today?” you asked shyly, “I could make something to eat? I’m sure you’re hungry after practice today.”
He thought for a moment, almost unsure if he should actually follow you, “Yeah I’d like that. We should talk about the whole thing anyways, right?”
You laughed a little, opening the door and allowing him in, “I would actually rather us not talk about it.” He chuckled, kicking off his shoes and placing them beside yours. You removed your jacket and hung it over the coat rack beside the door before turning to take Suga’s to do the same. When you reached out for his jacket, you saw that he was staring at you with his lips slightly parted.
“Are you okay?” you asked cautiously.
“You’re wearing it now?” he asked in a strained tone, his eyes trailing down your body. You could almost hear his thoughts, wondering if you had the other item of clothing still on as well.
“Y-Yeah… I took them today. When I accidentally sent it, I ran straight to you.”
“Them?” he repeated, looking into your eyes, “You took more than one?”
When you nodded, he shivered. He wanted to see them. Better yet…
He wanted more than just a photo of it.
“Dammit, Y/N,” he whispered, dropping his jacket to the floor and stepping up to you. You stepped back in surprise, your eyes never leaving his.
“A-Are you okay?” you asked him, “I can take it off?”
“I’d like that, but not in the way you’re thinking.”
Your eyebrows furrowed, “Not in the-”
Suddenly, he had your back against the door and your legs around his waist, “Get it now?”
You did, but that isn’t what you said, “I don’t. I guess I’m a slow learner.”
Suga chuckled, dropping his head against your neck and brushing his lips against its curve, “I guess I’ll have to explain it, huh?”
“I guess you do,” you choked, moving your head slightly to give him more access of your skin.
“I want you,” he murmured before pressing a soft kiss to your neck, “I want you right now. In every single way you will let me. I want to see you underneath me, on top of me, or pressed up against every single wall in this house.”
His hands were tightly gripping your ass, keeping you against the door. With every sentence and pause, he would place single kisses on your warm skin.
“I want you,” he paused once more, looking into your eyes this time, “tied up, wearing nothing but my jersey, begging for me.”
“What if I say I want that too?” you asked him, lifting your hands off his shoulders and threading them through his hair, “What if I said I wanted you to spoil me?”
“Do you?” he asked, a hint of insecurity in his eyes. You just smiled at him and nodded. A soft groan left his lips. He didn’t answer you verbally, instead he just pressed himself forward and took your lips in his. You reacted immediately, tugging his hair to keep him against you. He didn’t keep you there for long. He pulled you off the door and led the two of you to your room, already knowing where it was since he had spent so much time here before. Your parents weren’t around much anymore so Suga would come over and spend weekends with you to make sure you were safe. So when he reached your bedroom door, he just about kicked it in.
“Please don’t break my house,” you giggle against his lips. He doesn’t say anything in response, instead moving his lips down to your neck. He sat the two of you down on your bed, keeping you on his lap. Finally able to use his hands without being afraid of dropping you, he cradled your neck once more. Just like he did when Kageyama and Hinata interrupted you. He didn’t waste a single moment in pulling your lips to his, kissing you harshly. You’d always seen Suga as someone soft and sweet, but right now he wasn’t able to pull himself back. Right now he wanted to break you.
His fingers threaded themselves through your hair, holding onto the roots and tugging greedily. When a thrilling moan left your lips, it was as if he was lit on fire. That’s what he was searching for. That’s exactly what he wanted to hear. “Fuck,” he muttered, feeling you begin to grind against him. Stuttered moans left his lips, “God I am going to wreck you, do you know that?”
“I’m looking forward to it,” you whispered against his lips before pressing your palms against his shoulders to make him lay onto his back. He happily followed your orders, allowing you to be the dominant one. Just for a little bit.
His hands crept into your jersey, his jersey. Slowly, his fingertips skimmed along the flesh of your sides, finding their way to your bra. Soft sighs left your lips as you stayed straddling him, Arousal formed between your legs as he teasingly rubbed circles around your clothed nipple, causing your breathing to go heavy. “Koushi,” you whispered needily, grinding your hips down onto him.
Red. That’s all he saw when you moaned his name. He wanted to hear it again. He wanted to hear you say it louder. He wanted you to scream it on the top of your lungs with his hand wrapped around your throat. He craved it.
He bundled the jersey up in his palms, lifting it over your head as carefully as he could. Though he did say he wanted you in only his jersey, he needed all of you exposed to him now. Once the shirt was removed, he flipped you onto the bed, crawling over you and taking your lips with his. With one hand, he undid your bra and helped you slip it off of your breasts, throwing it across the room without a single care. His hand reached up, grabbing onto your newly exposed breast. As he was grinding against you, he circled his thumb around your nipple. You gasped as his fingers grasped the perked center, softly playing with it between his thumb and index finger. When your mouth opened in a gasp, he took the chance to deepen the kiss.
“More,” you whined as he pulled his lips away from yours momentarily.
“Anything for you, princess,” he whispered with a sweet smile, his fingers abandoning your nipple and repositioning themselves a lot lower. He was barely touching you. There was no pressure being applied to the area, but just feeling the ghostly touch of his fingertips over your pussy caused you to moan excitedly.
“Please Koushi,” you whined, writhing uncomfortably underneath him, “I need you, please!”
“Good girl,” he smiled brightly, kissing your lips sweetly before unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them off of your feet, discarding them at the end of the bed. He didn’t come back to hover over you, instead he stayed sitting on your legs, keeping you pressed to the bed.
His eyes greedily took in the sight of your nearly bare body, “God you’re beautiful.”
“Compliments later,” you whined, your hips lifting in protest of his delay, “Touch me, please.”
“Patience, baby,” he shushed you, a wicked smile on his face. He let his fingers softly trace the damp fabric covering your pussy. Whimpers left your mouth as his touch only intensified your arousal. He looked up at you as he applied a small amount of pressure, watching to see your reaction.
“Koushi please,” you cried as your back arched, small tears forming in your eyes, “Please I can’t take it anymore.”
He looked at you and shook his head, “You will take what I give you when I give it to you. Stop being a brat, Y/N.”
You weren’t sure what it was about what he said, but your stomach turned into knots. Your legs instinctively squeezed together at his words, excitement pooling between them. Suga looked up at you in slight surprise, not expecting someone as sweet as you to like being talked to like that.
“Oh this is gonna be fun,” he whistled, staring down lustfully at your disheveled body. His fingertips slowly slid off your underwear, discarding them thoughtlessly. The sight of you completely bare underneath him caused him to pause. The way you were breathless just by his touch. You were absolutely beautiful.
“Suga,” you whimpered at the lack of contact. He looked down at you, finally leaving the daze he was in. He looked at you expectantly, wanting to hear you use your words. You whined and reached for his hand, attempting to drag his body down to yours. However, he didn’t budge. He stayed above you, a devilish smirk on his beautiful lips.
“Beg.”
“Excuse me?” you asked, baffled by his demand.
“You heard me,” he chuckled, “I want you to beg for me to touch you.”
Tears formed at the ends of your eyes, desperation sweeping its way through your entire body. You didn’t want to beg, you didn’t want to sound so desperate. But you were. You needed this more than you needed to breathe. You got a taste of his touch and now it was being cruelly dangled right out of your reach. You could have it, all of it… at the price of just a little pride.
“Koushi, please touch me,” you whimpered pathetically, “I need you.”
A shiver shocked Suga’s spine at your words. He wasn’t sure if it was the use of his first name, the confession, or the way your voice seeped out with so much helpless desperation. Whatever it was, he liked it a lot. So much that he dipped his head down between your opened thighs. His tongue expertly dove between your folds, collecting the juices his actions had compiled. Your back arched as a lusty scream erupted from your lips. Suga shrunk against the mattress, wrapping his arms around your thighs and flattening his palms against your stomach to push you back against the mattress. Your fingertips twirled between his silver locks, keeping him pressed against your heat. His tongue circled your swollen clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body.
“Suga,” you called out desperately, feeling a small knot beginning to form in your stomach. But it fell dim as his actions ceased. You looked down at him and almost whined at the loss of stimulation, but you fell silent when you saw the look in his eyes. His hand slowly slid up your stomach and chest, all the way up to cupping your throat. You whimpered at the feeling, not completely sure how you felt about it. Suga’s face appeared in front of yours, an almost cold look in his eyes. You shivered in excitement.
“Now princess,” he mumbled, increasing the pressure on your throat, “I’m gonna need you to remember my name, okay?”
You nodded feebly, not once looking away from his eyes, “Yes, sir.” Your face turned bright red at your words, but before you could correct yourself, Suga went on to speak.
“God, you look so cute with my hand around your neck.”
Oh
“Fuck me,” you said breathlessly. Suga chuckled at your request, but he wasn’t going to turn you down. Not when you were looking at him the way you were.
“Anything for my princess,” he smiles, kissing the tip of your nose. It scrunched up at the contact, causing the both of you to smile. Suga moved his hand off of your neck and onto the hem of his shirt, pulling it off on him. You watched with a mesmerized smile, ready to become familiar with his entire body. When his hands reached for his belt, you stopped him.
“Can I?” you ask shyly. He looked up at you surprised, but nods anyways.
You lay him on his back, moving to straddle his waist. You begin with his lips, pecking them sweetly. Suga looked up at you with cloudy eyes and a goofy grin. Slowly, you moved your lips across his neck, collarbones, chest, and hips. He watched you kissing his flesh, showing appreciation and care for every bit of his body. Regardless of insecurity or flaw, you showed him you loved each bit of it. You unbuckled his jeans and pulled them and his underwear down. You carefully removed them from his body and placed them on the floor. You kissed up his thighs, smiling against them. When you got up to his fully erect cock, you bit your lip and looked into his eyes. He watched you with so many different emotions in his eyes. But when you placed a small kiss on the tip of his cock, the lust shone brightest. You slid your tongue up the side of it, never once losing eye contact. When you reached the top, you shifted your head over and took him into your mouth. Suga gasped needily, his hand gripping your hair. You took him slowly, not too sure just how much you could take. You had never done this before. I mean, you did okay at the dentist? Doesn’t that count for something?
Before you could do too much, Suga’s grip on your hair tightened. He yanked you up, sitting up in the process and kissing your lips harshly. You wrapped your legs around his waist, looking at him with a confused pout.
“I know, sweetheart,” he cooed, kissing your forehead, “But I’m impatient. And if you do that, I might give in a little too early.”
You giggled at his words and nodded, kissing his cheek sweetly. You watched him as he reached inside your dresser, pulling out the box of condoms your mother had bought you a few weeks ago as a joke. Seeing that Suga was coming over all the time, she thought it would be best to have protection at the house. She didn’t listen to the two of them when they were desperately trying to explain nothing was going on between them. It was a good thing she didn’t listen to them. You watched him as he ripped off the wrapper and slowly slid the condom onto himself. When he was finished, the two of you looked at each other in the eyes. You looked at him so nervously, but not Suga. Suga just smiledat you, caressing the side of your face and pulling it closer to his. He attached his lips with yours, moving elegantly alongside yours. But as the seconds went by, the two of you got hungrier. He flipped the two of you around, placing you on your back. He pushed your knees up against your chest before aligning himself with your entrance. You thought you would be scared at this moment, but you had no reason to be. Not when Suga was looking down into your eyes and telling you ever-so-sweetly that it’ll be okay, that if you wanted to stop they could, that he thought you were absolutely beautiful.
Slowly, he inserted himself. A gruff moan left his lips at the feeling of being inside of you. Your walls were shifting to make room for him. He opened his eyes to look down at you. You lay beneath him, your cheeks bright red and your lips parted. Your eyes were closed in pleasure as soft moans crept from your lips with every short breath.
“God you’re just so beautiful.” he whispered, taking in this sight. He wished he could take a picture so he could remember this always.
“Koushi,” you replied in a small tone, “I think I love you.”
“I think you’re gonna love me a lot more in a minute, princess.”
Without another word, he bottomed out inside of you. A shrill of pleasure and pain tumbled out your mouth at his actions. He loved the way you sounded when you called out for him. He slowly thrusted inside of you, coming all the way out just to repeat the motion. Feeling you pussy cling against him as he entered you became his favorite feeling in the world.
“You take me so well, princess.”
“It’s too much,” you whimpered.
“You’re being such a good girl for me,” he assured you, brushing your hair back as your body attempted to move closer into his.
“Koushi please,” you whimpered, unsure of how much more you could take.
“Keep being a good girl for me,” he whispered, “I know you can take it.”
You nodded, trusting him. He smiled down at you and continued his slow thrusts. You whimpered and whined at the feeling, enjoying the feeling of him inside of you. Soon the pain subsided and was replaced with pure, unadulterated pleasure. Feeling your body grow comfortable with his pace, Suga allowed one of your legs to fall against the bed, taking the other to wrap around his waist. He thrusted faster into you, using his free hand to massage your clit. The added simulation caused you to writhe against him, mewls of pleasure echoing in the empty house.
“Such a good girl,” he cooed, slamming his hips into you harshly. You yelped at the pain, “You like it when I fuck you like a whore, princess?”
Your walls clenched at the words, giving Suga the answer to his question.
“Answer me,” his voice was sharp and demanding.
“Yes sir,” you whimpered in response.
“You’re so cute,” he chuckled, flipping you onto your stomach and pulling you up onto your knees. He aligned himself behind you, inserting back into you without any warning. When your back arched, Suga reached forward and grabbed onto your throat, pulling your back up against his chest. He fucked you ruthlessly, keeping his hand wrapped around your pretty throat. He listened to every plea, every cry, and every helpless desperate moan that he was able to draw out of your body. He loved the way he could make someone as sweet and innocent as you cry out like a filthy slut. He loved that you trusted him that much with your body.
He allowed his free hand to roam the front of your body, massaging your perked nipples.
“Koushi, I’m gon-”
You didn’t even finish what you were going to say before he pushed you face down onto the mattress, holding onto your hips tightly as he began to mercilessly slam himself into you. You cried out as loudly as you could into the pillow, feeling your orgasm coming closer. There was no way you could hold it back longer, not with the way he was drilling into you. But when Suga reached forward and grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking it back but keeping your chest to the bed with his free hand. The added feeling just made your body snap. You cried out his name as your walls began to clench and unclench around him. He rode out your high with you, greedily taking in all the sounds you made.
“Koushi,” you whimpered, your body basically going limp beneath him. You looked back at him with bleary eyes, your orgasm still racking through your body. The spent look on your face was all he needed. Seeing that he had made you feel like that caused his thrusts to sputter, releasing himself into the condom. He moaned out your name as he rode out his high before finally dropping down beside you on the bed. He effortlessly removed the condom, tied it and threw it in the trash beside your bed before turning and pulling your naked body into his.
Summary: [y/n] is a Castelobruxo exchange student that gets accepted in Fred and George group only because she is mischievously smart.
A/N: Finally the so promised Castelobruxo!Reader. Even though I didn’t mention the school all that much, you can click here to know more about it and understand this reader.
Warnings: I say “fuck” I couple of times and “hell” but I guess it’s just that.
Being a Castelobruxo student at Hogwarts was not easy. [y/n] was frequently the target of unflattering jokes and pranks, and she rarely had a moment of peace.
She arrived at Hogwarts for her fourth year, and she now was in her sixth year. She liked the school, and she weirdly enjoyed being a part of history — which was practically mandatory when one of the school students was Harry Potter himself.
She didn’t need to choose a house, but she did anyway. She picked Slytherin because she liked the colours and also the values. Headmaster Dumbledore was the one who helped her choose — he was also the one who did not allow her to use the Sorting Hat; something about it wouldn’t work because of her age, which she thought was bullshit.
So there she was: the new girl in her fourth year, with no friends, a mix of American and Brazilian accent, and a habit of being a nerd. She couldn’t help knowing more than her fellow Hogwarts’ students when she had learned it all before at Castelobruxo.
But things got better for her around her fifth year. Fred and George Weasley, both Gryffindors boys at her year, decided to adopt her to their clan once they got to know her properly. [y/n] was bright, yes, but she was even more knowledgeable when it came to things prank-related. She knew how to prepare the best potions and how to cast the wicked spells.
“Did you learn that in your school?” asked Fred after [y/n] managed to retaliate one of Draco and his cronies’ pranks with a mischievous spell that turned Draco’s hair a deep pink.
She was surprised that he spoke to her in a tone that was not condescending. But even so, [y/n] quickly replied, “Well, in Brazil, you either learn how to survive the bullying or get eaten alive.”
The twins exchanged looks.
“You’ve got to teach us that spell someday,” said George, with a half-smile.
“Someday,” she agreed, hoping they meant it.
There was another time Fred and George got a glimpse of the real wicked [y/n]; this time it was around a Gryffindor party everyone was invited to. The party was packed, but the Gryffindors were scared of making the music louder because a Professor could hear it. That was when [y/n] rose for the rescue.
“Don’t you guys know the Muffliato Charm?” she asked no one in particular. A couple of faces turned towards her direction as the music died down. “It conceals sound.”
Fred was the one to walk to her. “Please, do the honours.”
She rolled her eyes at his word use but cast the spell anyway, and so the party was able to go on with no interruptions of any Professors. When it was almost close to its end, Fred and George cornered [y/n] once again.
“You know, for someone who picked Slytherin by choice, you’re kinda nice,” said Fred.
“Thanks… I guess,” she replied, sipping her drink.
“We’ve noticed you know your share of tricky spells,” continued Fred.
“And we’d like to know if you’d care to join us in our pranks with your knowledge at our disposal,” added George, raising his brow.
[y/n] pondered their offer. It would be nice to be around the Weasleys — they were liked and known by everyone. Something she was not in any way.
“What do I have to gain?” she asked.
It was Fred who answered, leaning closer to her ear. “Our protection. No prank may come in your way — well, not without revenge anyway.”
“Okay,” and with that simple agreement, a beautiful friendship began.
No one saw that coming, but it made so much sense for their alliance. [y/n] knew things and had different cultural habits —habits that fit well with those two particular Weasleys — and it all contributed to making the trio the best pranksters at Hogwarts in 1995.
“Professor McGonagall! Professor!” [y/n] was shouting in the corridors of Hogwarts. “Minerva! Please wait!”
There wasn’t a student that didn’t turn their heads towards the girl in Slytherin robes running down the hallway. Even with them used to [y/n] loud and extravagant ways, they still were feeling disturbed.
The said Professor finally heard her exchange student and stopped in her tracks, waiting for the girl to get closer.
“Please don’t use my first name, Miss [y/l/n],” said McGonagall.
“Sorry, Professor. It’s a Brazilian manner,” explained the girl, adjusting her hanging robes. “It won’t happen again.”
“So you said last time,” the Professor sighed. “What is it that you need me, darling?”
“You assigned us homework in trios, and I was wondering if it meant I can only do it with my fellow Slytherins? Because I was planning on doing with the twins; you know how they are, even if I don’t end up paired with them, I will have to help them anyway and….”
The Professor was no longer listening.
“Besides,” [y/n] proceeded, not noticing her Professor’s disinterest, “I’m sorry I didn’t ask earlier. I was planning on doing that when the class ended, but then you disappeared, and I was…”
“Miss [y/l/n]”
“Yes?”
“You are allowed to do it with Messrs. Weasley,” informed the Professor.
“The twins? Oh, thank you, Professor!” exclaimed the girl, jumping towards McGonagall, hoping for a hug that went unreciprocated. It was a bit awkward, but the girl didn’t even notice.
“What was that?” asked Fred, appearing right next to [y/n] when McGonagall disappeared.
[y/n] looked up to meet his eyes. British boys were oh-so tall. She was short and curvy — the last being something Britain rarely knew existed.
Fred was getting better every day. He didn’t look at all like he had last year, except for his hair — and even that had a different cut. [y/n] thought he looked handsome.
“I was just asking Minerva if we could pair up — me, you and George, ‘course — for her assignment,” [y/n] replied with a smile.
Fred raised an eyebrow, tilted his head, and waited for her to notice her mistake.
“Oh! Not Minerva; Professor McGonagall. It feels so impersonal to call her by the last name,” [y/n] slouched.
Fred thought she looked rather cute. “It is supposed to be impersonal, my love. She is a professor,” he passed an arm around her shoulder, bringing her closer while they walked side by side along the hallway. [y/n] loved when Fred used the nickname with her — at first, he was just messing with her because she used to say “meu amor” all the time with a passive-aggressive voice towards the twins, and, once Fred found out what it meant, he started using the translated version with her as a provocative nickname.
“It’s my third year here in Great Britain, and I still don’t understand why you guys are so… cold towards each other.”
“I’m not cold to you,” Fred hoped, but he couldn’t be sure of [y/n] standards. She was unique in that way: she spoke with her hands like the Italians, she was touchy like the Latins, and she was more outspoken than a Frenchwoman and an Indian combined.
[y/n] stopped in her tracks and looked up again, just to meet Fred’s eyes. “Well, I broke you, 'course. You’d be nothing if it weren’t for me and my Brazilian warmth.”
He had to smile at that because she was right in a way.
“But I still find it difficult to cool myself down when talking to other people,” continued [y/n]. “Even some students find it weird when I’m talking with my hands and accidentally raise my voice.”
“Emphasis on the'accidentally’,” said Fred, only to be elbowed on the ribs by [y/n].
“Oh, there comes George. Hey, Georgie!” shouted [y/n], stepping away from Fred to meet his twin. She had not seen him yet that day.
They hugged, of course, for George was already used to [y/n]’s mannerisms. Fred stepped closer to the two but still allowed them their moment.
“Good news!” she announced to George. “We can do McGonagall’s assignment together!”
“That is good news indeed,” smiled the twin, “because you’d have to help us either way.”
[y/n] stuck out her tongue, causing both brothers to laugh.
As if it was very far away (perhaps it was), [y/n] and the twins heard the bell, signalling that the next class was about to start.
“Oh, my!” the Slytherin girl shouted. “I’ve to go; my next class is Divination!”
She clutched her purse but didn’t leave before giving George and Fred a kiss on the cheek. She left in a hurry, and Fred was too paralysed to move. His twin was having fun with the scene.
“See you at the Ball later!” [y/n] exclaimed when she had already moved away from the boys. She was barely a dot in George’s field of vision, but her voice was loud as a megaphone.
“You are so fucked,” George sang.
Fred shook his head back and forth. This was his failed attempt to get his thoughts in order, though all he could feel were her lips on his cheeks, almost like a tattoo of heat. “I know,” he sighed.
When news of the Yule Ball made the rounds, [y/n] was very afraid that no one would ask her out. But surprisingly, a couple of suitors showed up at her room door — though none she was really interested in, so she said no to both of them.
Even though she knew someone was there for her — one a Ravenclaw who was as shy as a bird; the other a gentle Hufflepuff who was known to ask any girl he knew did not have a date (how flattering!) — her fear seemed to go nowhere, because she wanted to be asked to the Ball by and only Fred.
“George,” she asked the twin as soon as he sat down next to her for supper, “who are you taking to the Yule Ball?”
“Angelina,” he answered with a soft smile. “It was Fred’s idea, actually.”
[y/n] turned to face the other twin. “So you are helping people out?”
“Why? Need any help?” please no, please no, was all Fred could think.
[y/n] didn’t answer. Did she need Fred’s help? Yes. Would she tell him that the boy she desired was him? Absolutely not.
So more days passed, and this time there were no suitors at [y/n]’s door, which made her panic. If Fred did not ask her out by the end of the week, she would be forced to go alone, which would be very pathetic.
She was sitting with the Gryffindors (as usual) when Ron, who usually ignored her completely, approached her.
“So, [y/n], do you have a date for the Yule Ball?” he asked rather nervously, and Harry was just as nervous as he was, both gulped frantically.
[y/n] was also panicking because he had no other options, so she would have to say yes to Ron. He was not the red-headed Weasley she had hoped for, but he was better than going all alone.
Ron took her silence as an encouragement to continue, but in reality, not six seconds had passed. He was just as nervous as she was. “Would you like to go with me?”
Everyone sitting with them stared at him. Hermione was shocked but also angry, Harry was expectant, George was surprised and laughing, but Fred… Fred was infuriated.
“Whatthe hell are you doing, Ronald?” he asked, not bothering to be polite to his own brother. “I’m the one going with her.”
Ron and Harry both widened their eyes, visibly shocked. [y/n] presumed her eyes were just as wide as theirs because she had not seen that coming at all.
“Sorry, Fred! I didn’t know; no one mentioned it,” Ron said in a weak voice. “I am sorry I bothered [y/n]!”
She managed to smile, but not as broadly as she wanted to. “Don’t worry, Ron,” she said, turning to Fred. “Freddie? Can we talk?”
It was Fred’s time to gulp, but he followed her to a corner away from the group. It was a more reserved spot in the courtyard, for which [y/n] was grateful because she felt like she might burst with happiness and for that, she wanted her privacy.
“Since when are you taking me to the Ball?”
Fred avoided looking her in the eye, embarrassed at how angry he’d been at his little brother just a second ago.
“Since right now,” he hoped his answer was sufficient.
[y/n] placed her hand at her waist, only pretending to be angry because, in reality, she wanted to hug and kiss Fred right then and there.
“May I know why?”
“Because I know you’d rather go with me than my little brother,” Fred replied, leaving out the part where he would hate himself if he allowed anyone but him to go to the Ball with you.
He wanted to ask [y/n] nicely, but he was so nervous that time passed, and he didn’t even realise that the event was already upon them.
[y/n] didn’t know what else to say. Her biggest dream had come true, but it seemed like Fred was just doing it as a favour, so how was she supposed to respond?
“Well, thank you,” she said, lowering her arms. “Do you want to match outfits?”
And that was all they’d talked about the Ball so far, which was sad, much to her and Fred’s chagrin. They wanted to make sure they were not going as friends, but they were both so afraid they decided to leave it unsaid.
So here they were, Yule Ball’s night.
Fred waited at the Slytherin entrance for [y/n]. Although the Slytherins were not very nice to him, he waited patiently and with a smile for each one of them that came out through the portrait (hoping one of them would be [y/n]).
Since they didn’t talk about what it meant to go to the dance together, they each concluded something different. Fred decided to keep quiet about his feelings because there was a good chance he was just an annoying British guy to [y/n]. However, [y/n] decided it was now or never, and she decided to make her feelings known that night.
There was a big chance that [y/n] would see the War if she stayed in Britain, so she was determined to make every second count. She had to find out if Fred felt the same way about her so she could either be happy with him or move on. But deciding to tell him about her feelings did not make it any easier.
She was super nervous, but she stepped forward, out of the portrait hole, and found a handsome, well-groomed Fred waiting for her in the dark hallway. He held a corsage of white flower in his hand, which was the same he had fastened to his black suit. [y/n] wore a black dress that matched his suit, except hers was studded all around with tiny glittering stones meant to represent a night sky, even if the whole “stars” theme was not that obvious. His hair was combed back, but it already seemed to be trying to return to its original shape.
[y/n] was pretty sure she’d never seen him look so elegant.
Oddly enough, Fred was thinking the same thing. [y/n] dress clung to her curves, making them even more visible, and it drove Fred crazy just looking at it. Her hair was pulled up into a messy chignon, with a few strands falling out, which only made her face shape look even prettier.
“You look stunning, [y/n],” Fred said to her, handing her the corsage, so she could fasten it on her wrist. She felt her cheeks redden.
“Thanks, Freddie. You look handsome too,” she replied to his compliment, and he blushed too.
“Ready?” he offered her his arm. “I think we are a bit late already.”
“Oh, my. I’m sorry about that,” she said sheepishly.
“It was worth it,” he whispered, slipping a bit from his mind. If the only reason [y/n]’d been late was that she’d taken the time to look even prettier than usual, he was not about to complain.
They walked side by side until, at last, they were in the Great Hall. [y/n] was surprised by what she found: she had never seen this place so decorated. Everything was beautiful and harmonious, and the party was in full swing with loud music and dancing teenagers.
“Do you wanna eat first or dance?” asked Fred, leaning his mouth closer to her ear so she could hear him better.
“Dance,” answered [y/n], knowing that, with a full belly, she’d rather stay seated than move.
Fred let go of her arm, only to offer her his hand in a mini-curtsy. “Will you offer me your hand for a dance, m'lady?”
[y/n] stifled her laughter but also bent her knee.
“Yes, I will, monsieur.”
Fred spun her around the dance floor, both of them so festive they couldn’t take the closeness seriously. Fred finally spotted his twin in the crowd and twirled [y/n] around so they could be closer to him.
“You are here at last!” George exclaimed, letting go of Angelina’s waist so that he could hug [y/n] tightly, as they usually did.
“You smell good, Georgie! New perfume?” asked [y/n] as he let go of her.
“Have you noticed?” he asked, but he didn’t really expect an answer — his tone showed that he was fooling around with Angelina, who probably had not noticed his new perfume.
“Wow, I’m using a new perfume too, but you didn’t mention it!” remarked Fred, making George laugh.
[y/n] pretended not to be ashamed and that it was all part of her plan.
“Well, Fred, you always smell good to me,” she smirked, following him up and down with her eyes. Fred immediately blushed and adjusted his collar while George and Angelina burst out laughing and made strange smooching noises.
The Slytherin girl rolled her eyes and took her partner’s hand again when she noticed the song they had started to play.
“That’s a Latin America song if I know one!” she exclaimed, delighted by the familiar rhythm. George also took Angelina’s hand and led her to the middle of the dance floor with [y/n] and Fred.
The song did not require two people to dance in pairs, but it was a very sensual beat, best danced with the one you liked. [y/n] saw it as a sign from her ancestors to win Fred over once and for all with the help of her dance moves.
[y/n] didn’t even notice as she and Fred fell into a trance in which the world around them seemed to consist only of the two of them. She hadn’t expected the redhead to follow her rhythm and movements so well, but the surprise was welcome because it felt great to have his body glued to hers. They both moved their hips at the same time and Fred struggled to keep his hips level with her — which must’ve been difficult as he was so much taller than her.
Difficult, but not boring, Fred noted with a grin.
George and Angelina were dancing too, but their rhythm was much quieter and less sensual than the two at their side. This was partly because they didn’t know how to imitate them and partly because they were more preoccupied with watching [y/n] and Fred swing, which almost everyone on the dance floor did because it was mesmerising. [y/n] had certainly won over all the Professors with her charm and warmth, because no one dared to interrupt them, although in George’s opinion their dancing was already too sensual for the open space.
“When did you learn these movements?” [y/n] asked Fred.
“I didn’t,” he replied, much to [y/n]’s confusion. “I’m just following you, I guess.”
“Still… you’re good at it,” she smiled shyly and swung on.
Fred took her compliment as an incentive to keep going and gave it his all to touch her and get as close as he could.
When the song finally ended, she and Fred were a little sweaty, but neither cared, because they still felt very connected to each other’s bodies.
“That was…” [y/n] was breathing heavily and couldn’t finish her sentence.
“… something,” Fred helped her find the right word.
They stared into each other’s eyes, unable to leave the dance floor, neither of them noticing that another song had started to play, less sensual and more romantic.
“Fred, I…” [y/n] swallowed. She wanted so much to tell him the truth, but her heart was too afraid of rejection. “Eu te amo,” she whispered, but Fred couldn’t focus because at that moment George appeared and jumped on his twin.
“What was that dance, huh?” he asked with a smile.
George’s interruption was a sign for her to be quiet, and she was glad that she’d only confessed it in Portuguese and that Fred certainly hadn’t understood.
“Thanks for showing, George! Keep your twin company, will you? I’ll get us something to drink,” she said, pushing up the skirt of her dress and walking away. Each step away from Fred helped her to breathe a little better.
Fred looked after [y/n] as if mesmerised by her figure. He was so screwed — he loved her so much! She was the only one for him, but he was a coward. What was he? A poor bastard who wasn’t even smart, and she was a foreign goddess.
“What was that?” asked George. “Did you’ve a fight?”
“No,” Fred replied, sighing, “at least I don’t think so.”
“Did you say you liked her? Did you tell her you plan to kiss her, marry her and have her children?”
“Would that have been the right or the wrong move?” asked Fred, raising an eyebrow and finally turning to his twin.
“That depends on what she said.”
Fred shrugged. “She whispered something, but I think it was a Brazilian expression. I didn’t understand anything.”
George considered, but waited for his twin before saying anything else.
“Eh-teh-anmow,” Fred tried to say it with the right accent but failed.
“Amor?” asked George, repeating the word he remembered and which reminded him of what Fred had tried to imitate.
“Amoh,” Fred repeated, emphasizing the lack of “r” in the end.
“So she said 'I love you’,” George pointed out.
“WHAT?” Fred asked, shouting in surprise. “I don’t think she said THAT.”
“Why? I reckon you don’t know Portuguese. She could’ve said I love you.”
“But she didn’t,” protested Fred.
“But she could,” said George. He adjusted his posture. “Look, there she comes. My advice? Take her away from the crowd and just kiss her already. If anything, you can use the excuse that the dance was too hot.”
Fred stared at his twin, but he was unable to reply because [y/n] was too close to them, with two drinks on her hands.
“They are nonalcoholic of course,” she said as soon as they were close to hear.
Fred stepped closer to her, took the drinks out of her hands and gave them to George, then he pushed her away from the crowd. [y/n] allowed him to shove her away, confused by what was going on.
He only stopped walking when they were alone in a dark corridor, outside the Great Hall and its noise.
“Fred, what is it?” [y/n] asked, but his answer scared her.
But he didn’t answer.
He studied her face, her unique nose, her arched temples, and her sweet lips (or so he hoped), and he felt his own heart raise as his eyes fixated more on her. He couldn’t control himself when his hands reached for her cheeks and tipped her beautiful face up, only so he could lean closer to her. But he didn’t kiss her right away.
He let the tension kick in, and [y/n] was desirous for what would come next. Their breath mingled and she waited for him.
Fred wondered why he hadn’t done what he was about to do before. It felt right to kiss her because it felt as if she was his, and he was hers. He had to kiss her — it was the thing that would set the world back on track; it’d cure diseases; it would stop the dark forces. She was a goddess and her price was his lips — he had to allow her that.
“I love you,” was all he said before leaning closer.
His lips touched hers softly at first, as if he had never kissed a girl before. As if he had never kissed a woman before — because [y/n] felt like a woman, and he felt like a man. Her kiss was powerful like that. Fred slowly adjusted himself, so he could deepen the kiss, and, suddenly, they were one.
[y/n] was afraid she would never be kissed like that ever again, so she focused on allowing them the best kiss of their lives.
He had whispered he loved her, but it felt surreal and [y/n] was scared it would all be a dream, but then he said it again just before leaning down to kiss her neck: “I love you, [y/n].”
Oh, she could have melted right there and then.
“I love you,” he repeated, and it became his mantra. He wished he was a man of his mysteries, but when it came to that girl he was anything but.
“Te amo, te amo, te amo,” she whispered back to him, in her own language, only her breath was short, and it sounded raspy.
They kept kissing — [y/n]’s lips met all his neck, and his hands touched all the curves of her body he wanted to have touched earlier.
“I think….” [y/n] tried breathing again, “I think we should go back to the party.”
“No, I don’t think we should,” Fred replied, kissing her again.
She smiled. “Oh, but it is the only Ball we will ever get.”
“I’ll throw you all the Balls you wish for, only if you allow me to keep kissing you,” Fred said, smirking.
She grabbed his collar. “Although I’ll remember that promise, I really think we should go back to our friends.”
“You don’t like my kisses?”
“Ilove your kisses,” she answered, savouring his lips again just to prove her point. “But I want to enjoy the party too.”
“Okay…” Fred pretended to be hurt. “But, promise me we will get back to this.”
“Today?”
“Today, tomorrow, and forever on.”
“And forever on sounds good to me,” she smiled.
“Then it shall be it,” he agreed, grabbing her arm and leading her back to the Great Hall.
But during the rest of the Ball, all both of them could think of was how lucky they were.
Synopsis: Reader recounts the events that led to her heartbreak and where she is now
Word count: 1.4k+
Warnings: Angst. Dumbasses, literally everyone is a dumbass. Some very questionable writing.
A/N: Oof, I don’t know how I feel about this bad boy. I wrote it at 2:00 in the morning because it’s freezing in my dorm room and I can’t sleep. There isn’t any dialogue, so it’s quite different than my normal dialogue heavy style.
Girl code, it’s the bane of my existence and the cause of my seemingly never ending heartbreak. Then again, part of this is my fault, I was never supposed to crush on my best friend’s brother. But people always told me that love would come when I would least expect it and that I wouldn’t be able to choose whom I fell for. And I hate to admit it, but they were right. I didn’t choose to fall for Fred, nor would I have ever chosen to.
Ginny and I became fast friends when she was a first year, I was technically a second year but I had transferred after one year at Durmstrang, so we were both new and attached to each other. Through my friendship with her I met the rest of the Weasley’s and soon they all became like brothers to me. I would spend every waking minute with at least one of the Weasley’s, I had formed an unbreakable bond with all of them, and to this day I wouldn’t be able to explain how.
Fred was always the clingiest; pushing his siblings out of the way in order to sit next to me in the great hall, studying with me in the library (I would study, and he would come up with ideas for his and George’s business), cuddling up to me on the couch when we would, as a group, sit and talk in front of the fire in the common room, hold my hand in the hallways while he walked me to class, and have his leg pressed into mine when there was more than enough room in the train car not to be pushed up against my side. He was the clingy overprotective brother figure, until he wasn’t.
I made the mistake of telling Ginny when my feelings for the eldest twin started to change, I was just so confused I needed to let it out. I’ll never forget the look of hurt that flashed across her face when the tretorius, to her, words left my lips. She thought it gross and weird that I had feelings for her older brother, the same person I had called one of my honorary brothers not a week before my confession to her. It’s not like I wanted the conflicting emotions, it’s not like I wanted to stare at his lips every time he talked and wonder how they would feel against mine, nor did I want to get lost in his chocolatey brown eyes every time I happened to meet his eye, and I especially didn’t want my daily massaging of his scalp to become weird because I started to hyperfocus on hos his fair felt slipping through my fingers and wondering what his reaction would be if I happened to ‘accidently’ tug on the ends.
It all started to come to a head one day when Fred skipped Defense Against the Dark Arts in order to spend my free period with me. The ginger had snuck me into the boys dormitory, luckily none of his roommates were ill and were all in class, so we had the whole room to ourselves. We cuddled up on his bed talking and playing the gameboy I had gotten that Christmas from my parents. He had told me some stupid joke about Snape that had my in stitches, and while I was laughing his fingertips started to stroke up and down my side. I stopped laughing when what he was doing, my eyes snapped up to his face where I noticed that he was already staring down at me. He unceremoniously leaned forward and crashed his lips onto mine. I immediately got lost in the feeling, giving into the crush I had been harboring for a few months at that point.
I was knocked out of the trance his lips put me into when George came barreling through the dorm room door to tell us that my free period was over. It was like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped on me, gone was the warm happy feeling and the tingly lips, quickly replaced by stomach churning guilt and fear. Fear of losing Fred or Ginny, even worse, losing them both.
I almost immediately confessed to Ginny what had happened, the guilt eating away at my stomach lining in the mere hour that I had kept it from her. I expected her to get mad at me, to yell at me, but all she did was reassure me that everything would be okay when I started to cry. But I could see in her eyes that she wasn’t pleased that her brother and I had kissed, so I started to pull away. I went an entire week not talking to a single Weasley, even though Fred had tried relentlessly to get me to talk to him. When I finally did I told him that I couldn’t date him, not then at least, maybe when we had all graduated from Hogwarts and dating a friend’s sibling would no longer seem to be the end of the world.
I was heartbroken when I told Fred I couldn’t date him, and all I wanted to do when I saw the heartbreak on his own face was to kiss the pain away. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t hurt Ginny, I couldn’t hurt her. She was my very best friend and I couldn’t risk hurting her. So Fred and I naturally drifted, but Ginny and I stayed close. In order to keep the other Weasley siblings from knowing the full extent of what happened, I had pulled away from everyone that wasn’t Ginny. I no longer wrote to Charlie or Bill unless they wrote me first (which they almost never did), Percy was too busy with his duties to even notice, George knew so it was no surprise to him when I did pull away, and Ron was none the wiser because he was far too busy with Harry and Hermione.
The years since the kiss had passed slowly, agonizingly so. Fred seemed to have moved on from meno longer staring at me from across the common room, nor trying to sit near me in the Great Hall. But I hadn’t fared that well; I dreamt of his brown eyes and freckled face almost every night, I stared longingly at him when we were in crowded rooms, I would go to every single quidditch match to cheer him on but I’d slip out of the crowd and back into the dorms when kids rushed the field to congratulate the winners and on nights when I really missed him I would stare at the moving pictures I had of us buried deep under my socks so no one would no that I was still clinging to him and to our memories.
So it really shouldn’t surprise me that he has moved on, that he just asked Angelina out. She’s gorgeous and they’re both on the quidditch team, she already has more in common with him than I do. But I also shouldn’t have the burning flames of jealousy deep in my gut, he’s happy and I should be happy for him. But I just can’t be. I had held onto the hope for years that he would wait for me, that once we graduated we could finally date, that Ginny would be too busy on a professional quidditch team somewhere to care that her best friend was dating her brother.
But he didn’t wait for me, and I can’t blame him for that. As I lay curled up in my little twin bed silently sobbing as to not wake any of the other girls up, I think of where I went wrong. I think of the girl code and how much it sucks, because if there weren’t some unwritten set of rules drilled into girls’ heads at a young age, then I might be happy. I think of Ginny, and how if it weren’t for her I never would have worked up the nerve to talk to the guy that is arguably the love of my life, but I also never would have felt the greatest heartbreak because I decided to protect her feelings and our friendship. I think of how I’m too late and that I wish I had just told Fred how I felt, but a tiny little part of me wishes I had never met him so the hurt and ugly green monster of jealousy would just go away.
: being in a relationship with fred weasley was the best thing that’s ever happened to you. a small request for alone time has fred thinking something’s wrong with your relationship. word count: 2,147 words / fred weasley x reader / fluff : this is so important–to me at least. being in a relationship, of course it’s lovely to spend time with your other half but having alone time is just as important. so i wrote a lil something about that >:)
p.s. i know i haven’t posted in… a long time but ahhh, those requests that have been sent in are being worked on slowly but surely they’ll be up when they’re done!
being with fred weasley was the best thing that’s ever happened to you. every day, it feels like you’re falling in love with him a bit more than the day before. that’s parts and parcels of being in love; young in love, one might add. most of your days are filled with your favorite ginger. meetings in the morning for breakfast, dipping back for lunch, spending time in the library (mostly you studying and him watching–or reading through spells that could help fuel his next prank product idea) and dinner usually ends with a sweet dessert as he walks you back to your dorm.
however, sometimes… well… how do you put it… it’s good to have a bit of alone time, you know? to have your own space. you and fred do spend time apart but it was due to not having classes together or if he’s tied together with george to planning new pranks, and brainstorming products for their soon-to-be jokes shop. come to think of it, this would be your first time initiating alone time but it… um… it didn’t go down too well.
let’s recap three days ago…
“d-don’t freak, okay freddie?”
strike one.
“freak? what’d you mean?”
“um… i kinda… wanna be alone? have some time to myself.”
strike two.
“like… away from me?” oh no. no no no, freddie no–”did i do something to upset you? am… am i too much?”
“no!” panic. major panic. abort abort abort. it’s making you breathe heavy, stammering on your words, messing up your memorised lines, all dissolving at the sight of fred’s worried eyes. “i just–i wanted some–it’s not you! it’s not what you think, i just thought it would be nice if i had some time to myself and–”
you watch as your words sink into fred’s brain… but it’s not actually going in. it’s the way he looks hurt, confused, concerned altogether that it makes you feel like this is a mistake. but… you know in your heart it’s not. you can’t find the right words to explain, either. you feel the words bubbling in your throat, the tears stinging your eyes and it just reaffirms in fred’s mind that he must’ve done something to upset you.
his hands carefully reach out to hold onto your shoulders, leveraging you down but the second you hear fred’s name being called from behind him, it makes you realise that the once-empty-hallways weren’t like that. students started coming out from classes, chatters slowly filled your ears and it made you panic even more. your heart is ramming through your ribcage and you feel nauseous. your head is spinning, vision blurry.
in a hurry, you repel from fred and make a bolt down the hallway, far away from the ginger head left confused… and worried sick.
“i’m going to burn all of your books, y/n.” a voice rings into your ear, making you gasp as you blink hard to refresh your current sight. hermione cocks a brow at you with a half-smirk, well-aware she brought you back from your reverie. you straighten your back with a cough, looking down at your essay you had meant to finish but it’s… well… it’s a slower progress this time around.
“what’s wrong?”
“n-nothing.”
“y/n,” hermione’s hand darts out to lap over your hand holding a quill, “i think i’ve known you long enough to know something’s wrong especially when you haven’t gotten past the introduction of your essay when it’s something you know like the back of your hand.”
you swallow and look up to her, knowing very well you can’t fool hermione. she is, after all, one of the brightest witches of your generation for a reason. carefully, you brush her hand off and place your quill down, clasping your own hands as they rest on the table. hermione mimics your movement, leaning forward as she prepares her ears. and so you tell her. everything. the days leading up to telling fred, the day of telling fred, and how it’s been three days since.
the more you spoke about it to her, the clearer it was; you just appreciated having time alone and even though you’re certain there’s nothing wrong with that, it made you nervous raising this with fred because you know how this could be perceived differently. (and boy, did he)
“so that’s why he’s gotten so antsy,” hermione murmurs lowly, watching her words seep in your mind as you lock eyes.
“he’s been a little on the edge lately. seeing as to how you’ve been avoiding him, definitely took a toll on the poor lover boy.”
“i just,” you take a deep exhale, looking down to your own hands, feeling a bit empty as you imagine fred’s hand in yours, “i didn’t know how to bring it up without hurting him. i didn’t want him to think i don’t want to spend time with him, i do! i just… everyone needs alone time and i didn’t know… i just… oh god…” you groan, folding your arms onto the table and thumping your head onto your arms.
you hear hermione’s giggle, making you huff as you hide your face.
“granger, i’m not in the mood for your jokes. this is bothering me so much it’s driving me insane. i just don’t know what to do now…”
silence. for a couple of beats as you inhale and exhale. the quietness makes you feel a bit calm. maybe it’s a good thing hermione isn’t saying anything because you wouldn’t know what to say, either. soon, however, your heart nearly stops when–”maybe try talking to him?”
your eyes widen in realisation, gaping as you lift your head up from your little hiding space. whether it was the couple of days apart or lifting your head up too quickly, it feels surreal seeing him across from you. a dream-like reality.
“f-freddie…”
you watch as he extends his hand out to pat your head. thisis real. then he lowers his hand down, between your eyes as he whispers: “walk with me?”
it was a no-brainer.
fred fails to hide his grin when you don’t hesitate to place your hand in his, allowing him to whisk you away from your library seat. it’s quick and effortless, too. he’s always been swift with his movements and knowing–wanting–to have this moment with you, alone, after three tormenting days of being alone, fred knew he had to have his time with you to make things right.
he leads you towards the outskirts of the herbology classroom–behind the greenhouse, away from the hallways and buildings; surrounded by greenery. it was relaxing, and comforting, a warm blanket welcoming you into nature the moment you step past the bushes. fred brings you towards a tree, where he has a mini-picnic setup.
your heart is already melting in fred’s hands as he lures you to sit down beside him. your mind goes blank. all you do know is you’re happy being here with fred, your freddie. your mouth opens and closes a couple of times, trying to find the right words to start with as fred keeps captive of one of your hands in his lap.
“freddie, i–”ever so graciously, he squeezes your hand between the pair of his own, brown eyes blinking up to you with a small smile, "i wanna go first, if that’s okay?”
fred sees you’re surprised, but you manage a feeble nod with a soft of course. he takes a deep breath in, gazes down to your hand in his and is reminded of how much he misses holding this very hand… but he admits he understands during your absence.
“i’m sorry, y/n.”
with widened eyes, he can tell you’re beyond confused when you make a sound. a sound that crosses between a grunt and a snort. it makes him chuckle and bite back on a comment of how adorable you are when he’s meant to finish what he intended to say.
“i… i know what you meant when you said you wanted time alone. if i’m being honest, i feel like you’ve been considerate to me whenever i needed time alone with george to work on my jokes and pranks or when i needed a rest from quidditch but when it came to you i just–”fred can’t help but feel his heart swoon when you give his hand a gentle squeeze, reminding him to breathe. he does, before he continues–”i love spending every second with you and look forward to it so much that i… i realised that even though that might be what you were feeling as well, it would be nice and healthy to get some alone time.”
he swallows thickly, shaking his head with a scoffed chuckle. his eyes gaze down to your hand in his. it makes him smile. “i realised i hadn’t been fair to you by reacting the way i did and i…” he blinks up to you with a small frown, “i’m sorry.”
the lingering quietness is what makes fred a bit nervous. was he too late? three days too late to make up for his mistake? he’s trying to control his emotions and not jump to conclusions but the silence was driving him mad. it’s not until you pull your hand from his grip just so you can reach up to cup his cheek to align your gazes together. at the sight of your eyes, staring at him with such love and admiration, he nearly forgets to breathe.
“did you get an earful from gin?”
fred lets out a heavy exhale, eyes fluttering shut as he leans his cheek into your palm. “you have no idea. might as well throw good ol’ georgie in there for good measure…”
your hand shifts from his cheek up to his hair; fingers going through his ginger locks as you coo softly, “poor baby.”
fred nods with a pout, shifting closer towards you just so he can gently nudge your hand from him. as he laces your fingers together with his, you watch as his eyes open. it’s like the sun shining once more, casting its glow down on you.
“forgive me? i’ll be more understanding with your request for alone time. just like how you’ve done for me. and if i don’t–”
“if you don’t?” you interrupt with a raised brow, with that sudden flare of inquisitiveness. he tries not to get sidetracked, giving your hand a squeeze.
“if i don’t, please tell me. i’ll handle it better than i did before.”
with a sigh, you use your free hand to pinch the bridge of your nose. it elicits a whine from fred, playfully snatching both of your hands in his and giving you a good shake. laughter ripples through your nerves, locking eyes with the boy who makes you smile more than you can count; too many to keep track of.
“to be fair, you handled it well, freddie.”
he has a look of surprise on his face. raised brows, pursued lips… and eager ears waiting.
“and…i was going to apologise because of the way i brought it up.”
it’s two for two, fred looks like you’re not speaking the same language as him.
“i got nervous because i didn’t know how you’d react. i didn’t want to give the impression something was wrong in our relationship but the nervousness got the best of me and the more i tried not to panic, i kept panicking–”fred carefully uses a hand to place it over your mouth, stopping the onslaught of rambling taking your breath away. it reminds you to breathe.
when you’ve caught your breath, fred moves his hand away, back to cocooning yours. gentle strokes to your skin, a calming motion to coax you back to your train of thought.
“i’ll also do better in explaining better next time. i’m sorry, freddie.”
garnering the courage to look up to him, he has this frown that makes you a little anxious.
“freddie?”
“see, you can’t sweeten up to me so quickly like this. it makes me forget of the three days you ignored me.”
“hey! i didn’t ignore you, i just… i was…” you can’t find the right words and you didn’t need to when fred pulls you into his arms. the position is awkward considering the both of you were sat cross-legged on the ground but it’ll make do for now as fred pushes your face to bury against his chest. naturally, your arms find their way around his waist and fred manages to bring you down with him to lay on the ground.
legs stretched, intertwined, breaths overlapping the other; steadied heartbeats chest to chest like how they should be. fred’s chin rests on top of your head and your eyes flutter shut, at ease. whether it was three days, three weeks or three months, all is forgiven when fred feels you cuddling against him.
