A/N: requests are open, this is my first fic please don’t be mean
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My boy, my boy, my boy. Don’t love me like he promised. My boy, my boy, my boy. He ain’t a man and sure as hell ain’t honest.
Y/n and Fred had been dating for almost five months and for y/n it was the most amazing thing in the world cause she was totally in love with him, she knew he was the one when he first saw him at the burrow when they were 5 and since then he has always being her crush, so five months ago at the start of the 7th year when he confessed his feeling towards y/n she couldn’t believe it, at first she thought it was some kind of prank by the way he said it.
———-
5 months ago
“Y/n i have to tell you something that is a matter of life or death”, Fred said with a grin on his pretty face, she didn’t even was paying attention to what he was saying she was just too mesmerized with his beauty, “Are you listening to me ?, Fred asked seeing that she was not paying attention he decides to go straight to the point, “I was saying that you are my crush”, Fred said with a smirk.
Y/n was astonished everything crossed her mind, “is this for real?”, she said but Fred didn’t answer so she felt right to tell him the truth about her feelings, “Fred i’ve being in love with you since we met when we were five, at first it wqs just a silky crush but we gotbolder and got into hogwarts and i realized it wasn’t just a silly crush, what im trying to say is… im in love with you Fred Weasley”, he didn’t know how to react and he just said “i love you” and hugged her.
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My boy’s being sus and he don’t know how to cuss. He just sounds like he’s tryna be his father (Who are you?). My boy’s an ugly crier but he’s such a pretty liar and by that I mean he said he’d “change”.
Everything happened so quick, Fred didn’t realized how fast this was going and now they’ve been dating for five months, “When are you going to tell her the truth?”, George asked Fred not realizing someone was listening, they should have been more careful and not be talking this in the common room where everyone could hear them “I don’t want to tell her, is going to break her heart she is the sweetest girl i know”,Fred said with guilt on his face, “Freddie you don’t love her, you can’t be with her just for pity”, George said annoyed almost screaming,” Yeah? Well this would never have happened if you hadn’t made me do that stupid bet, it’s all your fault”,Fred said angry.
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5 months ago
“Freddie im telling you she likes you”,George said while laying in his bed in their dorm, “No she doesn’t,we’ve been friends since forever believe me if she liked me as more than friends i would know dear brother”, Fred said calmly and confident, “well then if you are so sure about that…”, George said with a grin, “Go on..”, “Let’s make a bet, 5 sickles that she is in love with you”, “you’re on”, Fred said with confidence and he was sure that he would win the bet, after all she knew y/n for years.
Fred was walking on the halls of Hogwarts and spot y/n a few meters away, he thought it was the perfect moment to prove George that he was wrong, but when she started telling that she loved him he didn’t know what to say, he couldn’t tell her that it was all a bet and that he wasn’t in love with her, so he told y/n that he loved her too, i mean he wasn’t absolutely lying right?, he did love her but not the way she wanted to.
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Y/n wanted to surprise Freddie with a gift from hogsmeade we wanted since forever but he couldn’t afford it, so she started saving some money to give it to him, she was so excited to see his reaction that she couldn’t wait to give it to him and going as fast as she could she went to the common room, she spoted Fred right away, but she heard something that she shouldn’t have heard, “Freddie, you don’t love her, you can’t be with her just for pity”.
She just stood there frozen, astonished, broken, without even realizing she started crying and sobbing, Fred and George turn around and saw y/n standing there crying, “y/n i can explain”, fred said with guilt on his eyes, she didn’t even bother on going away from him, she couldn’t even if she wanted to, Fred tried to explain everything to her but she wasn’t listening she was just wishing that all of this was a nightmare that soon she would wake up and hug Fred and he would comfort her and tell her it was just a bad dream that everything is alright but obviously it didn’t happen, she came out of her trance as soon as she heard Fred said “im sorry but im never going to love you, not the way you want me to”, she didn’t utter a word she just left and went to her dorm.
My boy, my boy, my boy. Don’t love me like he promised. My boy, my boy, my boy. He ain’t a man and sure as hell ain’t honest.
It has been 4 months since y/n’s heart have been broken, she tried to move on, she tried to fool herself into believing she didn’t love him anymore so she started dating other guys but nothing ever lasted, until she started dating Matt a slytherin guy, he treated her well, he was kind, sweet and always gave her flowers, he loved her and she loved him back but she knew she would never be able to love someone the way she loved Freddie.
Fred stood in the hall watching how Matt gave yellow flowers to y/n, her favourite flowers, everytime Fred smell those flowers it reminds him of her, her scent, her laugh and her beauty, he then realized he did loved her as more than friends, but know it was too late because she was happy with someone else and he wouldn’t ruin that for her, he fucked up and there was nothing that he could do about it, it’s not like he could go back in time and fix it all… or can he?.
You want me to be yours well then you gotta be mine. And if you want a good girl, then goodbye. You want me to be yours well then you gotta be mine. And if you want a good girl, then goodbye.
Summary: Y/N and her friends planned the perfect get away. The only thing not perfect? George and her broke up right before it was time to go. Now, they’re stuck sharing a room for one week and dealing with their friends trying to push them back together at every turn.
Word Count: 5.9k
Warnings: Brief alcohol usage, alludes to sex but no actual smut, mentions of cheating but no one actually cheats, kinda angsty but a fluffy ending. I don’t think anything else?
A/N:*gasp* and there was only one bed?? This is so cliche I don’t even care. I’ve posted two Fred fics, so it was time for some George love. Feedback always welcomed! Pictures are from Pinterest.
message to be added to tags :)
You stared at yourself in the dressing room mirror, adjusting and readjusting the straps of the short floral dress. Truthfully, the dress fit perfectly, but you still couldn’t seem to get comfortable. A frustrated sigh fell from your lips just before the curtain to the dressing room flew open, causing you to squeal.
“Give a girl some privacy, would ya?” You huffed once your eyes adjusted to Angelina’s beaming face.
“Oh please, you’re completely dressed.” She rolled her eyes lightly. “Speaking of, I love that dress on you.”
“There comes a time in your life when you have to choose to turn the page, write another book or simply close it.” - Shannon L. Alder
warnings:none
Y/N stared at the card George Weasley had gotten for Christmas, a pressuring weighing on her chest. He wrote a note, sloppily but filled with thought, and attached to a parcel that weighed more than the owl that delivered it. She had hardly spoken to George since she had hurriedly handed him her Christmas gift for him after he had admitted he was smitten with Angelina.
She hated to admit it, but before him telling her about Angelina, a small part of her thought George had been interested in her. She had assumed that the jokes and nudges in potions were George’s subtle way of flirting with her. But, there was nothing that Y/N hated to admit more than the pressure on her chest and the butterflies from seeing his handwriting meant only one thing. She was once again prey to the unrequited love cupid.
“Stupid Cupid,” Y/N mumbled, running her fingers along the edge of the poorly wrapped parcel. It only took a minute to open the small gift, and buried deep in the periwinkle tissue paper laid a solid metal statue of a newt. It was such a simple and slightly homely statue that was a nod to their favorite inside joke; it was so silly and unromantic that Y/N wanted to laugh and cry at once.
It was so hard for Y/N to not hold the statue to her heart and wonder if George’s feelings for Angelina had changed- if laughing at one of Y/N’s jokes had made George pause and wonder what it would be like to be smitten with Y/N rather than Angelina. It felt impossible to run her hands over the metal gift and not hope that George had excitedly wrapped it with butterflies in his stomach, riddled with anxiety about whether Y/N would like it. George, of course, didn’t do that- Y/N did when she was wrapping George’s gift.
Y/N was the one who drafted the card to George nearly a dozen times, trying to keep the tone of the card cheery, friendly, and maybe just a tad teasingly flirty. Y/N was the one who had carefully folded a set of origami ornaments and wrapped it with so many feelings it was practically beaming a lovesick pink when George opened it. She is always the one overloaded with feelings while the other is always either unaware or unresponsive.
“Dear potions ruiner,” Y/N started, the card shaking in her hands. “My mum loves the ornaments you made so much that she forced me to put them on the tree. She doesn’t even get the inside joke (the one about you ruining our aging potions by adding too much newt). But in the spirit of Christmas, I loaned them to the Weasley family tree. Anyway, thanks for being a great friend, and I’ll see you in the new year. George Weasley.”
Y/N stared at the note- there was no ‘with love, George Weasley.’ There wasn’t a confession of love. It wasn’t anything she would have daydreamed about; it was just a bucket of ice.
“I swore I wouldn’t do this again,” Y/N reprimanded, dropping the card.
It wasn’t George’s fault- Y/N knew that. She hadn’t mentioned anything to him, and it all went so fast, by the time she had processed how she felt, he was telling her about Angelina. When she looked back, it was too quick and blurry.
“It’s your fault,” Y/N reminded, pushing the metal statue to the corner of her bedside table where origami flowers hid the newt.
It wasn’t Angelina’s fault either- Y/N begrudgingly knew that too. Angelina hardly even knew that George and Y/N were friends, much less the character of Y/N’s poorly-written telenovela. Not to mention that she wasn’t a miserable person. No, she was kind, charming, and made George Weasley stupid in the way boys get around pretty girls.
“It’s me- I’m the common denominator,” Y/N rambled, her eyes starting to sting. “I mean, who is always the one left crying in their room? Who is the one who spent years on Oliver Wood? Who spends hours daydreaming about an alternate reality where I’m wanted back? Me. It’s me. It’s always me wishing that something will change in my favor.”
It felt suffocating, the feelings for all the boys she had daydreamed about, worriedly wrapped presents for, secretly and not-so-secretly liked. She wanted nothing more than for the late-night conversations with George to be the turning point she fantasized about. Yet, deep down, she knew the truth. It was going to end as the others had- in heartbreak.
summary: you can tell that something’s wrong with george, yet he stubbornly won’t tell you what it is that’s bothering him.
requested: yes - as part of my inspo party
word count: 1.8k
warnings: friends to lovers, angst, fluff ending, mentions of wincing, arguing, mentions of physical fighting (punching, etc)
a/n: i must have been in an angsty mindset the day i wrote this, okay? i meant for this to be super fluffy & cute, but then this happened. i still tried to make it fluffy for all of you, but pls be aware there is some heavy angst beforehand. as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!
You can’t help but frown as you watch your best friend. Ever since you met up with him this evening he’s seemed off which worries you. He had detention, that you know, but he didn’t say what for. Regardless he seems more tired - more worn out - than he usually is.
“George…is everything okay?” You ask as he finally takes a seat beside you, resting an arm on the back of the couch.
“You seem off tonight.”
“Mhm, yeah. I’m fine, love. I promise.” He states, seemingly trying to convince you of the fact.
You don’t like that he’s hiding something, but you don’t want to push him either. You are only friends. Not to mention the fact that you’ve pushed too far before, creating an argument in which he made it very clear that you’re not his girlfriend and that you should “stop acting like you are.”
“Alright. If you say so.” You sigh, knowing deep in your gut that everything is not fine with him.
~.~
A few minutes of silence pass after your question before George suggests watching a movie. Figuring that it’s probably the safest option, you agree, which is why you’re currently sitting on the common room couch watching ‘Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.’
You’re about halfway through the movie - if not further - and George has yet to say a single thing. You haven’t missed the way he winces and gasps every now and then when he tries to readjust his position, though.
On a particularly loud grunt, you turn to him and pause the movie.
“George,what is wrong? Don’t act like you haven’t been wincing in pain every time you move. Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, y/n. Let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”
“No. Not until I know you’re okay. You say you’re fine, but I’m not believing it in the slightest.” You state, not letting him brush this aside any more than he already has.
“I know I’m not your girlfriend, and you don’t like when I push you like this, but if you’re hurt I want to know. Please, George.”
“I’m just a little sore, that’s all.” He states, but you get the feeling that he’s still lying.
“Why?”
“Why? Why what?” He questions you back, surprised by your question.
“Why are you sore? What have you done?”
“I haven’t done anything. I just slept wrong, I think.”
At his reply all you can do is hum, not believing him at all. Especially not when he winces at simply trying to turn his torso to lay down.
“I swear, y/n. I’m fine. Can we just watch the movie?” George questions, finally getting comfortable, but not without plenty of screwed up faces and wincing.
“You can.” You state, tossing the remote at him as you go to get up.
“I’m going to head up to my dorm.”
“What?Why?” He asks, taken back by your sudden want to leave.
“Y/n! What’s wrong? Why don’t you want to finish the movie?”
“Honestly, George, I don’t feel like hanging out with someone who can’t be honest with me. Especially when said person claims I’m their best friend.” You state, standing at the edge of the couch, exasperated.
“Y/n…I am being honest. I’m fine. Don’t be like this. Please.”
“Don’t be like what, George? A caring person with enough dignity to not let someone continue to lie to their face?”
“Or maybe like a nagging girlfriend - which you’ve so freely called me before? Trust me when I say I know I’m not your girlfriend, george.” You state, not being able to stop yourself from muttering the next few words out of your mouth.
“Merlin knows you’ve made that much clear.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, almost seeming hurt by your words.
“Exactly what it implies. Ever since I’ve met you, you’ve kept me at arm’s length. You can’t be honest with me about anything serious. It’s as if you don’t trust me, or can’t accept the fact that I truly care for you - have since we met.” You state, finally fed up with his obliviousness, or sheer lack of care for you - whichever it is.
“How can we be friends when you act like our entire friendship is a joke?”
At your question, George goes speechless, opening and closing his mouth a few times as you can practically see the gears in his mind trying to work.
“Y/n…love, th-that’s not…I-I don’t think our friendship is a joke. I-I know you care for me, a-and I do trust you. I trust you more than anything…more than anyone else.” He stutters, fighting against whatever pain he’s feeling to sit up.
“You don’t act like it.”
“Something is obviously wrong with you tonight, and yet you keep trying to brush it aside whenever I ask - and I’m asking because I care, because I don’t like seeing you in pain.” You state, crossing your arms in frustration and because you need something to center yourself with your emotions flying every which way.
“I’m sorry. Merlin, I’m sorry, y/n. Please…come here.” George nearly begs, voice softer than it had been all night.
Although you’re frustrated with him, you can’t help but give in and make your way over to him again. Once you’re within reaching distance, he grabs you around your waist, pulling you down into his lap.
At the motion, you can see him wince yet again, but you finally give up on asking him what’s causing it.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for brushing your concern away. I’m sorry for not being honest with you. I’m sorry for making it seem like I don’t trust you, for making you feel like our relationship is a joke, and for being such a terrible friend. Godric, I’m sorry.”
As he apologizes, George can’t help but tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as a means to squash his rising anxiety. He can’t help but run a thumb over your cheek as he tries to build the confidence to admit to you everything he’s been feeling.
“I need more than just an apology, george. It’s been like this for years, and frankly, I’m over it.” You state, rather matter of factly.
“I know. I know, and I’m trying. I swear. I don’t want you to leave me.” He admits, tightening his grip around your waist.
“I know I’ve been treating you unfairly, and I’m so sorry. I…I’ve been really dumb, all because…”
“Because what, george?”
“B-because I really like you.” He sighs, his grip on you tightening ever so gently as he drops his head.
“You…like me?”
“I do. I like you so much, and I don’t want you to think badly of me. I don’t want you to think I’m weak or anything. I-I want you to like me too.” George rambles and you can’t help but shake your head at him with a smile.
“What? Why are you smiling? Why’re you shaking your head?” He questions, a pout on his lips that you can’t help but find adorable.
“You really are dumb, george.” You chuckle.
“Wh-why?”
“I like you too, dummy. Why do you think I’m always trying to see if you’re okay? Why do you think I sometimes act like a ‘nagging girlfriend?”
“Merlin, I’m sorry for ever calling you that, y/n. I know you were just trying to make sure I was okay. I never should have shouted at you like that.” He sighs, dropping his head in shame as he continues to hold you.
“Hey, it’s okay. Sure, it hurt me to be called that, but I shouldn’t have pushed you.” You try to comfort him, running a hand over his forehead to push some of his hair back.
“No. No, you were fine. I was trying to be manly and instead of just telling you what was wrong I yelled at you when you didn’t deserve it.”
“I regretted the words as soon as they were out of my mouth. Especially seeing that look on your face. I hurt you and I’m sorry.”
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?” You question, meeting his eyes as he looks up at you.
“I-I got in a fight with some slytherin kid today.” He sighs.
“I didn’t start it, but we got caught and that’s why I had detention this afternoon.”
“So you’re wincing in pain because…?”
At your question, George lets out a sigh before unwrapping his arms from you, reaching for the hem of his shirt. You watch as he pulls it over his head, drawing a gasp from your lips as you find all the bruises scattered across his torso.
“What did they do to you?! How did you get so many bruises?” You question in pure shock and concern.
“H-he kinda punched, kicked, and shoved me into the walls…”
“George…No wonder you’re in pain. I wish you would’ve just told me earlier. Godric this looks awful…” you frown, tenderly tracing your fingers against the bruises.
“Did you see Ms Pomfrey?”
“No…”
“George Fabien!” You can’t help but exclaim, disappointed, but not at all surprised with his actions.
“Come here.” You sigh, grabbing your wand from the table in front of you.
Casting a quick healing spell, you sigh as his bruises already start to look better.
“I’ll say it again, but George Weasley, you are a dummy.”
“I know…Thank you for caring though, and for fixing me up.” He blushes, smiling shyly up at you as you still sit in his lap.
“Of course. I hope from here on you’ll just tell me when something is wrong.”
“I plan to, y/n. Before we do anything else, though, I want to make sure you know that I do really like you. I actually think I love you. I just, I don’t want to hide it anymore.”
“I love you too, George.”
As the words leave your lips, a smile grows on both of your faces. With the new lightness of the air, you go to stretch out on the couch alongside George whereas he begins to lean in towards you.
“Ah-ah. Don’t go hurting yourself. You’ll still be sore for a day or so.”
“Whatever pain I might get by giving you a kiss is worth it, love. I’ve dreamed about kissing you for far too long. If I have to wait any longer I think I might just die.”
You can’t help but chuckle at his theatrics, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips just to appease him.
Pulling away, you can hear him whine and all you can do is chuckle.
“You need my lips that bad?”
“Y/n, I want to kiss you for the rest of my life, I swear. I’ve already missed out on a few years of them.”
“How about we finish the movie and then I can give you some more?”
“You promise?” He questions, to which you simply nod and chuckle at.
You never would have thought that it’d take some bruises and a small fight between the two of you for your feelings to come out. Now that they are though, you plan to kiss any and all of his injuries better from here on out.
Slowly peeling my eyes open, I smiled and snuggled further into the soft confines of the small villas sheets. The sun was peaking over the surrounding town houses and cast a soft orange glow over the bedroom. I turned to see George, whose messy hair was splayed across the pillow, long limbs tangled in the sheets.
I shuffled to press kisses along his back, hot skin pressing against my own as the tall man was roused from sleep. He moaned a little, arm reaching back to circle around my waist and tug me into his side.
I giggled in his ear as I gently nibbled the lobe. “Morning, Mr. Weasley.”
He peeped one eye open with a small smile. “Goodmorning, Mrs. Weasley.” His voice was gravelly with sleep. “How did you sleep?”
“Good, yourself?” I stroked my fingers through the knots in his hair.
“Beautifully next to my wife.” He sponged a kiss to my lips.
“My husband, with me, on our honeymoon.” I hummed back. “Seems too good to be true, doesn’t it?”
“I am an utter catch, you’re very lucky.” He winked back as he eased me onto my back and peered down at me. “You look wonderful in the mornings.”
I blushed and covered my eyes. “Morning breath and all?” I teased back.
“Lemme get my camera.” George quickly hopped out of bed, jumping as I quickly slapped his bare behind as he rummaged through out luggage.
Whilst he was there, he pulled on a pair of boxers and clambered onto the bed, standing over me. He angled the camera down to me where I posed: arms above, hair wild, lips pouted and eyes pinched closed. What was meant to be one photo ended up being a whole roll, George directing me into different silly poses before settling down with me and snapping a few cheesy shots of our lips pressed together.
“I’m starved.” I groaned as I slipped in my underwear and looked at the array of dresses Ginny had packed for me.
“That one,” George recommend as he pulled his trousers up his legs. The dress was a mid length, cream, tiered dress with thin straps; perfect for the hot Italian summer we found ourselves in. “There’s a coffee shop down the road, could walk there and then into town?”
“Perfect.” Hair and make up done, we set off down the street, hand in hand as we talked mindlessly about the day ahead.
George had made the joke When In Rome nearly fifty times by the time we were done with breakfast, and I had to bribe him with ice cream to get him to stop. Walking into town, we weaved up and down the many allyways lined with small shops, dipping into each one. George bought me a beautiful bracelet and I bought him a book he’d been longing for, along the way he snapped candid and posed photos of me.
We sat outside, sipping cool coffee and sharing a punnet of strawberries and George mindlessly fiddled with my wedding ring.
“Look good?” I asked.
“Looks perfect.” He replied back, pressing a kiss to the metal.
I gazed around the busy square, catching the eye of a busker who was playing the guitar. He gestured to George and I, a small smile spreading on my lips as I nodded. Tugging George from off the bench, he stared confused down at me as the guitarist began playing an upbeat tune.
“What are you doing?” He asked as I began to move to the music, his nervous eyes flitting around as more people began to stare at us.
“Dancing! Come on.” I tugged him closer to me and began childishly prancing around with him.
George soon let loose and began dancing as well, the guitarist laughing loudly. A small crowd of adoring eyes watched us and the love we displayed as we both became breathless. The song came to a close as the crowd clapped us.
“Take a bow, my lovely wife.” George teased.
I bowed next to him, George tugging me into a kiss as the crowd began to disperse. Offering the player some money, we began to aimlessly walk around the city again.
Many sights, bars, parks and shops later we found ourselves in a small restaurant near our villa. We were tucked away at the back of the restaurants garden, belly’s as full as our hearts as George continued to play with my wedding ring, a habit I wondered would last all our marriage.
“What did you think of me when you first met me?” George asked.
We’d had this conversation many times before. “I didn’t like you.” I laughed. “I thought you were loud and boisterous.”
“Still am.” He winked back.
“What did you think of me?”
He pondered for a moment. “I thought what a lovely wife you’d make.”
“You did not!” I giggled.
“I did, cross my heart!” He laughed back. “I thought you were the most beautiful creature I’d ever laid eyes on. I told Freddie I’d make you my wife one day.”
The mood dipped a little at the painful mention of Fred. “He’d be very proud you kept your word then.” I soothed, pressing a kiss to his cheek.
George sadly nodded. “He would.”
“What are we doing tomorrow?” I quickly changed the topic.
“I’m more concerned with tonight.” George winked as he pressed kisses down my neck.
“You dog,” I giggled. “You aren’t beat from last night?”
“I could never overindulge on you.” He smiled back. “Besides, we’ve got a family to build.”
“But it’s New Years!” Fred whined from his chair at the table, ignoring his breakfast.
“Freddie, we’ve talked about this.” I said in a motherly tone as I fixed my own breakfast.
“I know I know,” he grumbled. “But why?”
I grabbed my bowl of cereal and went to sit next to Fred, quickly pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “Because it upsets your Daddy, when you’re older we’ll explain.”
Fred peered at me. “It’s because of him, isn’t it?”
I looked back at my small boy. “Yes, it is.”
“Morning Weasleys!” George called throughout the kitchen, suit barely on as he went to make some toast.
“Morning love.” I smiled back.
“I want fireworks for New Years.”
“Freddie!” I scolded. “What did I say?”
Fred sunk into his chair, crossing his arms and pouting his lips. I looked over to George who had frozen by the counter, face paled and form stiff.
I warily stood and stroked over his arm, back turned to Fred. “You okay, love?” I asked quietly.
His eyes weren’t seeing me, but the memories of who our son was named after. The smell of burning toast wafted through the air which snapped George out of his trace.
“Shit.” He muttered as he popped the toaster and looked at the black bread. “Well…coffee it is.”
“George-“
“I’m fine.” He snapped, pouring a mug full of energy.
“Okay…” I mumbled, leaning up to kiss his cheek before throwing a disapproving look at Fred.
The small boy had bubbled in anger for a while, and he finally burst. “All the other kids at school get to see fireworks and I never do!” Fred yelled as he slid off his chair. “And it’s all because of your stupid brother!”
“Fred Weasley you go to your room this instant and don’t come down until you’ve leant to control your tongue!” I yelled.
“Fine!” The boy yelled back, a faint sound of feet running up stairs and a slamming door in the house.
I turned to George, who was shrugging on his coat and grabbing his works bag. “Georgie…”
“See you later.” He didn’t kiss me before he left, slamming the front door.
Fred eventually came out of his room with a sorry look on his face. He cried for a while, feeling so terrible about his words, but soon set to work to make it up to his father. After much thought, he decided to make a card and a cake.
The card was a deep blue with the words “Sorry Daddy” written over it, and the contents I wasn’t allowed to read. After that, we made George’s favourite cake: chocolate. We waited patiently for George’s return at the table.
We heard the door open, but the usual “Hello Weasleys!” didn’t ring out. I nudged Fred, who nervously stood as I followed behind him. Card in hand, Fred went to the front door where George was hanging up his bag.
“Daddy?” Fred mumbled out. “I’m very sorry.” He presented the card.
George looked at Fred, then to me, before walking past his son up the stairs, ignoring his apology and card. Fred turned to me with teary eyes.
“Come here puppy.” I crouched and opened my arms, the small boy running and crying softly into my neck.
“He hates me!” He wailed.
“No he doesn’t, he’s just upset.” I soothed, taking him into the living room to comfort him more.
After Fred had calmed down, I left him reading a book as I climbed the stairs to our bedroom. Knocking the door, I didn’t hear a thing before I entered.
The room was dark, blinds drawn, as George lay on his side in bed. He was silent but his breathing told me he was awake. I carefully moved forward, sitting behind him on the edge of the bed. My hand rest against his arm as I softly squeezed.
After a moment I spoke. “He’s very sorry,” I started. “He made you a card and a cake to prove it.”
George didn’t reply.
“He thinks you hate him.” I whispered.
“I don’t hate him.” George grumbled into the pillow.
“You did ignore him.” I pointed out.
George sat up. He’d been crying. His eyes were puffy, cheeks red. “I give that boy everything, and the one thing I don’t allow, he hates me for.”
“He doesn’t hate you.” I repeated my words from the younger Weasley downstairs. “He just doesn’t understand.”
“Maybe it’s time we told him.” George confessed as he gripped my hand tightly. 
“If you’re sure.” I eased, stroking over his knuckles with my thumb.
George nodded and stood, moving to pull the blinds up before making his way to the door. “Wait.” Suddenly he turned, gripped my jaw and pressed a firm kiss to my lips. “For this morning.” He muttered before walking out and down the stairs.
I followed closely behind as he walked into the living room, the small boy too engrossed in his book to acknowledge his parents.
“Freddie.” I prompted.
The small boy jumped and looked up, shoving his book aside and standing in front of his dad. They peered up and down at each other before George sighed and knelt down to Fred’s level.
“I’m sorry Daddy.” Fred said with a tear in his eye.
“It’s okay Freddie, I forgive you.” George smiled. Fred collapsed into his Dads arms as he cried out of pure relief.
Once he’d calmed down, he reached onto the sofa and pulled the card from under his book. “Here, and Mummy and me made you a cake.”
“Thank you, my boy.” George smiled as he read over the card. “But I need to tell you something.”
The boy obediently nodded and allowed his father to pick him up and sit together on the sofa. I sat across the room on an arm chair and let George take his time.
“Freddie, you know the man your name after?” Fred nodded.
“Your brother.” Fred bashfully said.
George nodded. “Him and I were inseparable. We did everything together. We pulled pranks, made jokes…but we also created fireworks.”
“Fireworks!” The boy said excitedly.
“Yeah,” George chuckled. “But…my brother died, Freddie, when he was young. And that hurt me, very much. Some things I just can’t do because it reminds me of him.”
“Like fireworks.” The boy mumbled.
“I’m sorry puppy.” George whispered. “One day, we can.”
That was enough hope for Fred who forgave his dad and wrapped his small arms around his neck. Quickly, Fred bounced of his lap and declared we all needed to try his cake. I walked over to George, sitting down next to him.
“You okay?” I asked as I stroked his hair.
He nodded. “I love you.”
“Dearly.” I replied as I kissed his cheek.
“Mum, which knife should I use?!” Fred called from the kitchen.
“Fred Weasley don’t touch any of the knives!” George and I said at the same time, rushing to save our boy from cutting his fingers off.
