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wreckofawriter · 1 year ago

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Only If You Catch Me

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pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred had always been frustrated by your endeavors with other men, especially other men that always looked quite a bit like him. after a disastrous mistake during quidditch practice you find yourself wondering how you had never seen fred Weasley in the light you saw him in now

word count: 4.4k

warnings: jealousy, language (maybe?), only proof read once so sorry for any mistakes!

a/n: this is my first big piece in ages, I hope you guys enjoy and im so sorry for my prolonged absence i fell off on writing for a while and im just now getting back to it

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Some things were just facts, plain and simple; the sky is blue, two and two is four and you had a type.

“Another ginger I see.” Alicia murmured as you sat down across from her, pints of butter beer clinking together. Your eyes were locked with a pretty freckled boy by the bar.

You huffed even though she was quite right, this must have been the third redhead that you set sights on this year. “Well William got boring and,” You paused wrinkling your nose, “-pushy”

The Three Broomsticks was packed, the sounds of chatter and warmth guarding you from the icy cold of the blizzard that had swept through Hogsmeade. You and Alicia had joined the dozens of students seeking cover in the popular pub and quickly snagged a small table near a large fireplace where you now looked out on the sea of flushed faces and smiles.

“With your type it's a wonder your last name isn’t Weasley.” Your friend chuckled and you laughed.

“If I could have gotten my hands on Charlie, it would be.” You replied, your silly crush on the older Weasley brother lasting from your first year to what you were sure would be your last.

Alicia giggled, taking a large swig from her pint, licking the foam off her top lip. “Why not one of the twins then?”

“What twins?” A voice asked from behind you.

“She couldn’t be talking about us now could she, Georgie?” Fred jested.

“No no,” The other replied, “I mean what could Spinnet possibly want from us?”

Alicia rolled her eyes with great effort, “Trust me when I say I want nothing to do with you. As for my friend here, I don't know if I can say the same.” she said with a smug grin and you sent her a furious look.

Fred smirked, leaning over the back of your chair, his large palms ghosting your shoulders, “Is that true? Do you need something from us?” He leaned in even further, his nose brushing your hair, “from me?”

You began to look a bit red as he pulled away, “Please Weasley,” you managed to scoff “since when do I need things from you? In fact, I believe you still have my Charms notes.”

Fred had come to stand in front of you now, George joining his side, “It's just that your notes are so much better for writing Flitwick’s essay. ” He argued.

“You don’t even take notes.” You said, exasperated.

“Exactly” The twins replied in unison.

Alicia snickered beside you.

Chairs appeared and Fred and George sat. The table seemed half the size it was before as Fred's elbow knocked against yours.

“Made yourselves at home have you?” You spoke, wincing.

Fred just grinned and leaned purposefully closer, thighs now brushing.

You slid towards Alicia who was turning a laugh into a cough and set your eyes back on the boy with freckles.

“You headed to the Slytherin match next weekend?” Alicia asked absently.

“Of course.” George replied, “I’ve bet Lee a galleon that Malfoy catches a bludger with his nose.” he chuckled, “He reckons it’ll be his gut.”

You all smiled at the idea, no one hated Malfoy more than those on the Gryffindor quidditch team.

“We also have business to do.” Fred said, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

“You don't have any more of those nosebleed nougats do you?” You asked, eyes still across the room, “I’ve got to get out of Binns’ class tomorrow.”

Alicia's eyebrows shot up, you hardly missed History of Magic, or as you liked to call it, nap hour. “Why's that?”.

“No reason.” You mumbled, intently staring into your butterbeer.

Fred’s eyes darted between the two of you.

“Of course we’ve got some.” grinned George, oblivious, “2 sickles a pei-.”

“Or for free if you tell us what you're up to.” Fred interrupted, catching a strange look from his brother.

“I'm not up to anything!” You gasped with a bit too much enthusiasm.

Alicias eyes had narrowed to slits and Fred had never looked more unconvinced.

Your face began to grow hot and you found yourself wishing you had more grace in the act of lying.

“Oh come off it,” George said, “If she wants to snog Murphy instead of hearing about the seventh generation of goblin rebellions, who are we to judge?”

You were glowing pink now, sending a vicious look at George who had taken to sipping his drink innocently.

Fred looked appalled, his face contorted like he had just caught a whiff of something horrible, “Murphy!”

“Keep your voice down.” You hissed angrily, glazing across the room again to be sure he hadn’t heard, “I'm trying to keep it quiet.”

Fred was fuming, “Who wouldn’t, swapping spit with a git like that.”

You scoffed, pulling out a small coin purse, “Can I just have some nougat?”

“Nope.” Fred responded, voice suddenly ferocious, “We’re out.”

You were beginning to grow frustrated, “George just said you had some.”

Fred glared at you, “We’re out.” he repeated his nose high in the air.

You turned to George looking for help but he threw you an I’m-not-getting-into-this look and you were forced to round back on Fred.

You glared at each other for a moment before Fred caved, "Fine we’ve got some,” He huffed, “Three Galleons.”

Your mouth dropped, “George said 2 sickles!”

He crossed his arms, “They’re in high demand.”

You stood, chair flying back into the wall with a loud crack, “You’re a complete prick.” you said sharply snatching your bag and sweeping past Fred and over to meet Finn Murphy who was now standing to leave the pub.

“Well I think you handled that well.” Alicia said, grinning at Fred who looked as though he had been slapped.

George, who looked all too happy with himself for instigating such an interesting conversation, helped himself to the remains of your butterbeer as you and Murphy bowed out into the flurry of white followed closely by Fred’s glare.

“Looks as though she's gonna snog every redhead at school before you.” Alicia snicked.

“Yeah,” George snorted, “You might want to keep an eye on Ginny.”

Alicia giggled even harder, pressing a hand to her lips in an attempt to keep her drink in her mouth.

Fred could hardly hear them, too busy envisioning your latest with large boils all over his face or perhaps vomiting indefinitely.

Alicia managed to contain herself and shot Fred a sympathetic glance, “I've been trying you know, I keep bringing you up but she seems far more interested in Charlie.”

“Charlie!” He guffawed, “But he's been gone for ages!”

“Well he seemed to have made quite the impression.” Alicia chuckled.

“He was captain when she was appointed to the team.” George pointed out.

“Yeah when she was TWELVE” Fred gasped.

Alicia couldn’t help it, she had started laughing again, “Relax,” She spoke between breaths, “It’s just a silly school girl crush.”

Fred looked unconvinced and began to tap his heel incessantly against the floor.

“Take it as a complement!” She continued, “Charlie looks quite a bit like you, I mean you are related after all.”

Fred was not taking it as pleasantly as she suggested and began to rap his foot on the ground even faster, “We’ve got to do something.”

“We?” George snorted, “This is all you mate. I’m not the one in love with her.”

Freds ears grew pink, “I’m not in love with her!” he sputtered.

“Whatever you say.” Alicia spoke rolling her eyes.

The truth was that if Fred wasn't in love with you, he was so close he may as well have been. At the very least he had been pining after you for years and he had never been particularly quiet about it. In fact he was the opposite of quiet about it. His flirtatious remarks and dazzling complements were quite consistent. Unfortunately so was his coursing jealousy as you paraded around with boy after boy who was not him. Every year he swore would be the year. The year where you finally realized it was him you needed and all would be right in Fred's world. But time and time again he failed as you walked out the door with a different redhead. He was growing nervous, his seventh year was upon him and this may be his last chance before you were all carted off in different directions never to see each other again. The frustration of it all was turning him bitter.

That night Fred lay awake on his four-poster, staring at the ceiling venomously. What was it? He wondered, What was it that he didn't have that every other ginger you knew seemed to possess? Why was it never him pulling you into broom closets and meeting you after classes? What was he doing wrong? His thoughts spun until he drifted into an uneasy slumber.

By the time he arrived at the quidditch pitch for practice the next morning, the rest of the team was already changing into their robes as Angilina scribbled vigorously on the chalkboard in front of them, already changed and ready.

“Fred!” She shouted watching him try to sneak his way into the bustle of the team unnoticed, “What took so long? I was beginning to think I would have to send George back up to wake you.”

He shrugged, “Sorry Cap, I didn’t get much sleep last night if you know what I mean.” he winked at her and she looked sorely unamused.

You on the other hand perked up at the insinuation, finally looking at the twin who, in protest of his behavior the day before, you had been ignoring.

“She gets what I mean,” He smirked nodding towards you, “Up late with Murphy boy last night?” He asked viciously.

You flushed as the changing room filled with chuckles.

“Murphy?” Angelina asked, turning to you, “Isn’t he a bit,” She paused, “dim?”

You scowled at Fred silently before snatching your broom from the rack and marching so quickly out onto the pitch that you hadn’t even noticed you had hit Harry in the temple with its handle.

As Potter groaned in pain and fixed his askew glasses Fred looked over to Alicia who was shaking her head slightly. As the rest of the team slowly followed you out onto the field she and George made their way towards him.

“You’re an idiot.” Alicia groaned, “No wonder she won’t go out with you.”

George chuckled.

Fred glared at the pair, “It’s not my fault she insists on only snogging boys who are 'a bit dim.'" he spoke, mocking Angelina.

“I know that this may be hard to wrap your head around,” Alicia spoke sharply, “But maybe she went out with Murphy because he was, ya know, nice to her.” She then shouldered past the twins leaving Fred gapping at his brother desperately.

The day was crisp, the heavy licks of winter drawn in by a bitter wind. But the sky was clear and the sun was out, much to everyone’s appreciation.

Fred mounted his broom still angry, feeling foolish for upsetting you yet again as you stood with your back to him defiantly.

The whistle blew and the balls were released as the team kicked off, snow flying in all directions as you did so.

Fred's head was not in practice as it should have been but instead on you, watching you speed towards the goal posts with the quaffle already under your arm. You scored easily on Ron with a feign left.

Fred was so absorbed in you that he had completely forgotten about the bludgers, one of which was hurtling at him with frightening speed. With little time to react he swung his bat wildly and pitched the bludger in the opposite direction, which with a sickening feeling he realized was right at you.

He tried to shout but you must not have heard him over the howling of wind in your ears. Because when the bludger struck you heavily between the shoulder blades you were completely unprepared. Your vision danced as the air was knocked from your lungs. You were flung from your broom with a shriek and began to plummet.

Fred streamed after you, urging his broom towards the ground with a frightening speed. His Cleansweep shuttered under the immense pressure he suddenly held it in and never before had Fred wished so badly for Potters Firebolt.

He managed to get beneath you mere feet from the ground. The force at which you hit him knocked you both into the snow with a heavy thud, and there was a sickening sound as his broom snapped in two.

Neither of you moved for a moment, the snow settling around you and beginning to melt through your robes.

“Are you alright?” Fred asked and was struck with panic when you did not respond. He sat up quickly pulling you with him, your legs tangled together in the snow. He called your name desperately, hands holding your face as you lay limp in his arms.

Angelina landed beside the pair followed closely by George and Alicia both of whom were wearing nervous expressions.

“Y/n!” Fred shouted again, tears stinging his eyes, fear gripping his throat like a vice. He was moments away from shaking you when your eyes slowly peeled open.

“Fred?” You mumbled, confused.

The boy let out a barking laugh of relief and then dove into a hug, almost knocking you back to the ground.

Bewildered, you returned his embrace and realized quite suddenly how much larger than you Fred really was. You practically disappeared into his chest, his broad shoulders shielding you from the wind that whipped across the pitch. You felt frighteningly warm listening to his heart beat quickly beneath his robes. Your cheeks were hot as he pulled away from you and began to search for any look of pain or damage on your face.

“Are you alright love?” He asked again and was washed with relief when you nodded.

As you fully realized what was going on around you, you gasped, pulling the handle of Fred's broom out of the snow.

“Your broom!” You looked horrified, “Fred, your broom broke!”

Fred on the other hand brushed it off helping you to your feet and beginning to pat the snow off your robes, “It’s alright, I’m sure it's fixable.” he shrugged, “Listen, I am so s-”

But before Fred could finish his apology George burst between the two of you, “I am so sorry!” He spoke hurriedly, “The bludger caught me off guard. I swear I wasn’t aiming for you.”

You chuckled, giving George a pat on the shoulder, “I sure hope not, but 's not me you should be apologizing to anyway.” You said, “It's Fred’s broom that broke.”

George did not issue his brother any regrets and instead sent him a wink, whipping his wand out of robes and shouting “Repairo!”

The broom snapped back together and Angelina, who was desperate to get back in the air, looked to you, “You alright then?”

You nodded with a grin and turned back to Fred who was testing the strength of his brother's repair.

“Thank you so much Fred,” You gushed, looking up at him through your lashes.

The boy's heart skipped a beat, stomach lurching, “It was no problem really.” He breathed and miraculously found you in his arms for the second time as you lunged towards him.

“Thank you.” You murmured into his robes before disconnecting and swiftly boarding your broom again.

Fred watched you leave struck for a moment. Alicia shot him a thumbs up and a grin before he was able to clumsily climb onto his own broom and follow you back up into the air.

By dinner the story of your fall had been told and retold so many times that you were now said to have plummeted upwards of a hundred meters before Fred had heroically scooped you onto his own broom, saving what was sure to be your life.

In the great hall you kept getting asked if you were okay as down the table Fred got clapped on the shoulder and congratulated for his great save. He seemed to be enjoying the new story a fair bit more than you were.

Finn had come over to ask about you halfway through dinner but you found suddenly that he was no less than boring and he returned to the Hufflepuff table after a few short minutes with a look of disappointment on his face.

Fred watched this with such delight he was sure he was glowing. George -who he had been applauding as the best wingman one could ask for all day- poked him hard in the side and pointed down the table to where you sat. Fred turned to catch your eyes already on him. He winked exuberantly and you turned away with a scoff, but your cheeks had taken a rather deep shade of red.

He grinned so wide at George he thought his lips might split, “I mean this is some real progress!” He cheered, “Did you see that? She was staring at me!”

Down the hall you turned to Alicia, cheeks still pink, “Have you ever noticed how tall Fred is?” You asked so suddenly she choked on her pumpkin juice.

You stared at her curiously as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve smiling, “Oh yeah very tall.”

You hummed looking back down the table at the elder twin who was now laughing wildly at something Lee had said, “I guess I never really thought about it before.”

Angilina shot Alicia a glance as you were distracted and the two of them broke out into giggles.

“What?” You demanded though you were still smiling.

“Oh nothing.” Angilina grinned and you huffed turning back to your dinner.

You found yourself wishing Fred had chosen to sit a bit closer to you as you watched a group of girls across from him break out into giggles at something he said, “There's no way he's that funny.” You muttered knowing he in fact was.

Yet you couldn’t find yourself being all that jealous as he kept glancing up at you, as if checking to make sure you were still watching him and much to his delight you always were. His shoulders, you noticed from where you sat picking at plum pudding, were quite wide, his arms toned. It was no wonder that he had engulfed you completely out on the pitch.

How had I never noticed this before? You found yourself wondering. How had he managed to escape your list of potential suitors when he was so obviously perfect for you?

The thought struck you rather abruptly and while you would have liked to have sat with it for a minute, Alicia was standing and you knew it was time to head back to the common room.

As students began to flood from the hall you fiddled with the sleeves of your robes, thoughts full of brown eyes and freckles .

As if summoned, Fred appeared at your side grinning widely, “Hello.”

“Hey Fred,” replied Alicia.

“Have you guys heard the news?” He asked, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You tried hard not to blush and instead shook your head, staring at the floor. “Apparently, you owe me your life.” He was beaming down at you now and you found it hard to look away.

“Oh yeah?” You smirked, “And I heard it was actually you who hit me with that bludger.”

His smile disappeared only momentarily and you were happy to see it recover so quickly.

“Ah well, I figured Angelina wouldn’t keep her mouth shut.” He shrugged, “Though I swear if I had a choice I would have knocked her off her broom instead.”

And for the first time that evening jealousy took you strongly, “Oh yeah? I suppose she would have been a bit more fun to catch then?”

Fred looked startled by your bristly reaction, “Nah,” He responded, “That would have been Georgie’s job.”

You were satisfied with this answer and felt yourself leaning against him as you began up towards the tower.

George was delighted to see you still tucked beneath his brother's arm when you reached the common room. He called you over to where he sat and you placed yourself in a large squishy armchair as Fred perched himself beside you on an ottoman.

You spent your evening rather uneventfully, finishing an essay for Snape as the Gryffindors slowly filtered off to bed in pairs. When George rose to take himself to the dormitory you expected Fred to follow but instead he stayed rooted by your feet where he now sat cross legged on the carpet looking over what looked like an extensive order form.

Hours later you yawned, stretching when you finally finished your work. It was now well past midnight and only a few fifth years remained, cramming for a quiz in transfiguration the next day. You turned to look at Fred who had long since sprawled himself across the couch before the fire and found him snoring softly.

A jolt of infatuation made your stomach flip. His messy hair glowed shockingly bright in the fire light, his pink lips slightly agape. You gathered your things slowly, sure not to wake him before you stood beside him.

You knew you should wake him, you were the reason he had not retreated to bed after all. But he looked so peaceful like this, so soft. Instead you found yourself slowly counting the freckles that sprawled across his cheeks, leaning close to brush a strand of his bright red hair out of his face. He woke immediately at your touch, large brown eyes locking with your own.

You felt your cheeks go hot, “You should go up to bed.” You mumbled beginning to pull away.

He snatched your wrist with such haste it took you by surprise, “Do that again.” he spoke.

You furrowed your brow, “What?”

“With my hair,” It was his turn to blush now, “Touch my hair again.”

It felt as though the air was sucked from your lungs yet you found yourself obeying, fingers coming to comb through the soft waves that spread across his forehead.

He hummed, leaning into your touch slowly, gaze still locked with yours. The two of you stayed there for a moment, you kneeling beside him fingers in his hair, his hand still loosely wrapped around your wrist.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured and you looked at him confused.

“For what?”

“Hitting you with a bludger.” he responded remorsefully.

You laughed softly, your head thrown back, “It's okay Fred.” you grinned. You were close now, so close Fred could feel the tickle of your breath on his cheek, “I forgive you. You made up for it after all.”

He smirked in spite of himself, “I suppose I did, saving your life and all.”

You were giggling again and Fred was sure he was in some beautiful dream where all he could ever hear or see was your joy.

“I wouldn’t push your luck if I were you.” You grinned, “I may just chuck the quaffle at your head when you're not looking.”

“Only if you catch me when I fall.” Fred whispered, leaning closer still.

You let him, your lips connecting slowly. You were pleased to find he was a fantastic kisser, his lips soft and plush, eager to please. His free hand cupped your cheek as he pulled you closer still until you were practically on top of him.

One of the alarm clocks the fifth years had been attempting to turn to roosters burst to life and you pulled away abruptly remembering bitterly that you and him were not the only ones in the room. Fred chased after your lips with his own desperate for even a moment more with your mouth.

“You should get to bed.” You repeated standing now, knees a bit shaky.

Fred was disappointed by your departure but grinned wildly nonetheless as you gathered your books into your arms and turned back to him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Fred.” You yawned and began up the stairs to your dormitory determined not to let him see the childish glee that had spread across your face.

“Wait!” He called after you, lurching from the couch and stopping at the bottom of the steps.

You turned back to him taking in the wonderful sight of him staring lovingly up at you. He looked delightfully disheveled, his hair a mess and his lips swollen from your touch. You took two steps down now only one above where he stood on the hardwood floor.

You looked down at him expectantly as his eyes bore into your own.

He lifted himself onto his toes and grabbed your shoulders forcinging you forward where you connected for a second time.

This time his breath was hot and heavy on your lips, his earnest intensifying to a level that you could only describe as hunger. Your feet dangled momentarily in the air as he lifted you fervently into his embrace. You were suddenly engulfed in Fred again, he was all you could smell sweet and cinnamon, all you could hear were his pants in your ear, all you could feel was him, his arms around your middle, his thigh pressed between your legs and his lips and tongue working so well together that it was you who chased after him this time, whining in protest when he pulled back.

You stared at him, out of breath and stunned to silence.

Fred looked as though he had just won something very expensive the way he was grinning with triumph, his eyes dark with lust.

“Sweet dreams love.” He murmured leaning down to give you one final kiss, his lips moving sickeningly slow against your own, wet and warm. He hovered inches form your lips for a moment, as if debating diving back in, before he backed away tucking his hands casually into his robes.

“You should go to bed, love.” He smirked, “We’ve got an early practice tomorrow and I do believe you made me a promise about knocking me off my broom.”

You bit your lip to keep from breaking into girlish giggles. Your heart was still pounding as though you had just run a long race.

“Only if you swear to catch me though.” He added with a wink.

“I’ll always catch you Freddie.” you assured him before turning and hurrying back up the stairs, grinning so wide your cheeks had begun to ache.

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nottyoursbutmine · 3 months ago

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harry potter fic recs

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

harry potter 1

harry potter 2

harry potter 3

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<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

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myboipotterimagines · 1 year ago

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Golden Pt. 2 - Weasley Twins x Reader

Thank you for all the love on part one. I genuinely love this AU and hope you all do too. <3

Other Parts: Part One

Your eyes flickered between the two Weasley boys, refusing to accept that you could have two soulmates - even though they were looking you straight in the face. "This is a joke, right?" you finally ask. "I don't think anyone could pull off a joke like this," Fred spoke, gently placing his palm back to the matching spot on your cheekbone. "Even us," George laughed. "And why would we? No one dreams of half a soulmate." You don't know why, but your heart aches at his words. "I didn't dream of having you as my soulmate, either," you retort, pulling away from both Weasleys. "Is that so, sweetheart?" He takes a step closer, smirking. "Because the rouge of your cheeks says otherwise."

"Back off her, George," Fred commands, pulling the two of you apart. "We have to get out of here now or Umbridge will kill us. Like actually kill us." "Alright, soulmate. You coming with us or not?" George asks. "Like she's going to go anywhere with us now, George," Fred scoffs. "You're a total-" "I'm in," you say, cutting him off.

Fred pulled you out of the broom closet before you could change your mind. He held onto your hand as the three of you ran through the halls, avoiding the blasts of light above you. Suddenly, curses mixed into the light of the fireworks. You risked a quick look back and saw Umbridge and the rest of her cult following you. "Shit!" you yelled, ducking from a bright red ray of light.

"Accio!" both twins yelled, and after a moment a broom hit each of their hands. They mounted the brooms, Fred pulling you right behind him. You clutch him closely while shooting a string of spells behind you at Umbridge. With a final toss of fireworks, you're gone - Hogwarts far behind.

It was no time before you landed down in Diagon Alley. "What are we doing here?" you ask. The town was a graveyard - each shop having been closed for what seemed to be months.

"Alohamora," George whispered, cracking open a door to a building near the end of the lot. "You are looking at the start of our joke shop - name still pending." "And our home for the next month. If we told our mum we were leaving Hogwarts she would drag us straight back. So we have to wait her out here," Fred adds.

After spelling on the lights, George leads you in. The place was nowhere near finished, but you could see the bones of the operation. Half-finished products were strewn over the ground, haphazard notes that only they could read near each one. "This is really cool," you smile.

"I would advise you not to touch anything. There's a method to our madness and I really don't want you to accidentally blow yourself up," George says. You nod. "No touching. Got it." "Come on, bedroom's this way," Fred leads. You wish you could stop the heat from rising to your face, but George sees it immediately, smirking to himself. You ignore him, following Fred closely up the stairs.

"We didn't really prepare for guests," he admits, rubbing the nape of his neck. You enter the bedroom to find two beds on either side of the wall, an simple dresser by each one. And that was it. Not even a couch. The room was just sad. You laughed, "I can tell. If you can spare a pillow I'll sleep in the corner. It'll be cozy." "You are not sleeping on the floor," both twins immediately protested. "No way we're letting any guest sleep on the ground, let alone our soulmate," George scoffs.

"You'll have my bed tonight. We'll figure something else out by tomorrow," Fred adds.

You protested, of course, but the two fought back harder. You finally just gave in, heading towards the bed. You finally take off your cloak, aching to get out of your whole uniform, but knowing you would have to wait until tomorrow to get anything remotely comfortable to wear.

Fred immediately picks up on your discomfort. "You can wear these tonight," he says, pulling a sweater out of his dresser, then a pair of joggers. You retreat to the bathroom to pull on the clothes, and as you do you notice the golden F stitched into the sweater. You smile as the rub the end of the sleeve between your fingers.

The twins had changed out of their robes by the time you returned. George had already gone to bed, and Fred was waiting for you on his. You sat down beside him, finally taking a moment to rest after the insanity of the day. "Thank you for this," you said, nodding down to your sweater. "And for bringing me with you, and letting me sleep on your bed, and for not meeting me in the way I always feared you would."

Fred brings his hand to your face, holding you from your jaw to your ear, just as he had when you fell. "I don't think my hands could ever hurt you." He spoke the words quietly, but they filled your entire head. When you looked at him, you felt dizzy. It was all too much - his kindness, his brother's apprehension, the fact that they were both your soulmates. Was that even possible? In all your years you'd never heard of a person having two soulmates, let alone at the same time. But there they were. There he was, staring down at you with the kindest eyes you'd ever seen on a man.

"Can I kiss you?" Fred asked. His cheeks rouged as he asked, and yours followed. You couldn't speak, so you just nodded. And then the hand that had settled onto your skin, like it belonged there, pulled you into him. His lips were soft against yours, moving as slowly as a person possibly could. Still, his touch was electric and the shockwaves surged through you.

Your heart lurched in it's chest when he pulled away from you. "Goodnight," he smiled, pushing himself off of his bed. You quickly grabbed his hand, halting him. "Stay." Fortunately, he didn't require much convincing. He let you become comfortable before sliding into bed behind you, wrapping one hand around your waist.

"Merlin," George huffed, causing both of you to jump. "The two of you cannot fit comfortably on that bed. With a quick flick of his hand, his bed pushed against his brothers, the sheets melding together. You yelped as strong hands pulled you up from the outside of the bed and plopped you back down right in the middle. "I will not be cuddled by Fred in my sleep again. I trust you to keep your distance."

"With all due respect, Georgie. You are the last person I would want to cuddle in this room," Fred shot back, wrapping a protective arm around you. "I would sure hope so," he rolled his eyes, finally lowering himself into bed beside you. He didn't bother to face the other direction, instead studying your face. Against your will, you blushed once more - which only caused him to smirk. "Sweet dreams, princess," he teased.

"Sweet dreams, Georgie," you smiled back, finally causing his cheeks to burn.

***

Author's Note: I'm thinking about making this a series. Let me know what you all think. And if I do make it a series - would y'all want smut or no?

Next in the series: Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

#fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #weasley twins x reader #fred weasley x reader x george weasley #why choose #soulmates au #harrypotter imagine #george weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #fred weasley imagine

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bitterspoons · 7 months ago

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For once, I thought it was me.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Soulmate au where you can hear the songs your soulmate is listening to. Fred asks your best friend—Angelina—to the ball thinking she's his soulmate.

use of y/n

Warnings: Angst and just a lil' fluff

Word Count:

part one / part two coming soon

A/N: of course the first thing I write is a soulmate au 😭—it's fine and I hope you like it.

"Angelina!" Y/n calls, running over to the Gryffindor table—almost tripping over her feet before placing a hand on Angelina's shoulder.

"Yes?" Angelina looked up from her conversation with the Weasley twins and smiled at her best friend. The Great Hall was bustling with noise.

Y/n panted, catching her breath as she fixed her hair. "Sorry—I just—I ran—oh god I'm dying—" Y/n tried to catch her breath before waving her hand at the twins. "Give me a second—continue your conversation..."

Angelina chuckled before turning back to George and Fred. "This is my friend, Y/n." Angelina introduced. "She's in Hufflepuff so I doubt you would've met her."

Y/n waved, stealing some of Angelina's water.

"Why haven't you invited her to some of our parties?" George asked, batting his eyes. "It would've been nice, seeing a pretty face more often."

Angelina rolled her eyes at the flirt, making space next to her for Y/n. "Yeah, I've asked her but she's not a huge fan of social events." She explained. "It's a miracle she's even in the Great Hall—why aren't you with Willow?"

"Oh, I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out after Divination. Turns out my detention with Professor Sprout is cancelled!" The Hufflepuff said happily, still a bit red from George's flattering.

"Hell yeah!" Angelina cheered. "I told you she loves you."

Y/n smiled. "Yeah but turning her favorite plant into a pair of heels is pushing the line."

Fred cackled. "Y/n, You did what?!"

In her head, a symphony sounded. Him just saying her name sounded like an orchestra.

Pops of warmths fidgeted around her. She had always had a crush on the Weasley, and she never really knew when it happened. She hasn't told a soul and she never would. It was just— he always seemed so happy. She had made him happy, she made him laugh.

Y/n beamed as she explained how she had gotten too caught up with her conversation with Angelina about what shoes to wear for the Yule Ball, she had completely forgotten about the spell she was casting.

"Little Chéri's a troublemaker huh?" Fred teased, scrunching up his nose.

"Chéri?!" Angelina cackled—not a fan of pet names in the slightest.

George grumbled. "Fred has been learning French so he can impress girls."

Y/n laughed, taking a sip of Angelina's water again. "I think it's cute." She bit the tip of her thumbs, an old habit of hers.

"Ever the hopeless romantic, Y/n." Angelina commented, stealing her drink back.

The four engaged in conversation until a Slytherin tapped on Y/n's shoulder. "Uh—Y/n, I think I have a fitting right now." She said awkwardly, getting glares from the Gryffindors.

"Oh!" Y/n shot up, grabbing the last strawberry off of Angelina's plate before grabbing Angelina's pen—sticking it behind her ear—and running off, dragging the Slytherin with her.

"Hey!" Angelina protested, grumbling as she bit into her toast.

"What was that about?" Fred asked, battling Ron for the last corndog.

"Huh? Oh—Y/n and I are helping organise the Ball." Angelina explained, not seeing how Fred watched her run her fingers through her hair as she grabbed another pen to do her Potions Homework. "She's helping make and tailor people's outfits."

"Y/n?" Hermione clarified, popping into the conversation. "She's ridiculously talented, she made the dress I'm wearing!"

"She made adjustments on mine!" Angelina looked at Hermione. "I didn't like how bland my dress was, so she helped bedazzled it."

"Do you think she can fix Fred's dress?" George asked, earning a punch from Fred. "Ow! No seriously though, his tie is all wonky and his pants go way past his feet. Poor bloke's gonna trip!"

Angelina laughed, packing her stuff away and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Find out yourself! I have to go check up on the Frog Choir."

Just a couple minutes later, Fred heard oddly croaky choruses from his soulmate.

●●●

Fred was trying to go the sleep that night, but all he could hear was stupid music.

When he couldn't decipher whether he was hearing it through his soulmate or if he was hearing it in the common room, he shoved his slippers on and slowly went down stairs.

As he peeked his head around the corner, he saw Angelina dancing with somebody—a CD player in the background as they laughed.

It was the same music playing in his head...Is Angelina—actually his soulmate?

He watched Angelina dance with her friend, practicing their dance for the ball before slowly going back upstairs.

Y/n and Angelina fell the floor in a heap, almost crying of laughter as Angelina stepped on Y/n's foot and then went crashing to the floor.

"So, are you planning on asking your mystery crush to the ball?" Angelina asked, rolling onto her stomach and popping the CD out.

Angelina didn't have a clue about her crush on one of the Weasley twins. Y/n refused to tell her, but she did give vague details about why she liked him so much.

"You think I have time for that?" Y/n questioned, brushing her hair. "Even if I did have the time to ask him, he's probably not even my soulmate."

"Who cares?" Angelina asked, exasperated.

Angelina was one of the people who couldn't hear music from their soulmate, it happened more than you'd think—about as common as dyslexia.

Angelina didn't give two fucks about whether the person she was dating was her soulmate, she tended to do whatever she wanted.

"Well—my soulmate is pretty cool too." Y/n protested.

"Well obviously!" Angelina retorted. "They has to be good enough for our Y/n"

"Oh stop it." Y/n laughed, throwing her hairbrush at Angelina. "I won't have time to ask someone and besides, I think he likes someone else." Y/n looked down, fiddling at the edge of her pink pyjamas.

"Your soulmate or your crush?"

"Maybe both!"

●●●

Fred woke up early today, mostly because he couldn't sleep. I mean, he just found his soulmate! This is the moment that everybody waits for, and it finally happened!

Fred was utterly in love with whoever his soulmate was. The two soulmates have sang duets with each other since they could talk—never making any action to try and find each other but Fred would be lying if he said he hadn't blasted music in his ears just to see if someone in the Great Hall would react.

His soulmate was constantly listening to music and singing songs, it comforted him whenever he heard it—especially since he's heard it since he was little.

And it was Angelina, a girl he was been trying not to crush on for ages.

Fred walked down the stairs, almost laughing when he saw Angelina.

Angelina and Y/n were completely passed out on the common room couches, paper sprawled out as they were doing a history of magic essay.

Fred shook Angelina awake. "Angie...Angie!"

Angelina fell off the bed. "What?"

Fred grinned. "I just thought you might wanna head to bed before the rest of the house wakes up."

Angelina rubbed her eyes before looking around—seeing essay papers, pens and her best friend, still sleeping as she sleepily held the tip of her thumb in her mouth and lulled herself asleep. "What time is it?"

"You have a little less than three hours before everybody else wakes up."

Angelina sighed, getting up and separating their papers and pens. "Hey, Fred?"

"Yeah?" He said hopefully.

"Can you do me a favour?"

Angelina handed him a messenger bag with little bows and gold chains decorating it, he took it without question as she continued.

"Do you think you could get Y/n to her common room? This is.. um This is the longest she's slept for a while and I don't know how to get into the Hufflepuff common room."

Fred thought for a moment—but who was he to deny his soulmate? After all, getting into the Hufflepuff dorms were easy—having learned the ins and outs of practically the whole school.

So Fred slung the bag across his shoulder and walked over to Y/n, still sleeping peacefully.

"Thank you!" Angelina grabbed her own supplies and started going up stairs. "You're the best!" She called. "I'll get you a tailoring with her today! Is dinner alright?"

Fred nodded, slowly picked Y/n up, putting her on the couch so he could give her a piggy back ride to her common room. "Hold on..."

Almost as if her sleeping body could hear it, Y/n's body tensed up, making it easier for Fred to carry.

So Fred walked out of the Gryffindor dormitories and started walking in the halls to go to the Hufflepuff common room.

The sun had barely risen, shining dull lights into the hallway and Fred felt Y/n shift in her sleep—ignoring how his skin fluttered as her breath rolled on top of it.

Fred almost stopped walking as Y/n shifted once more, making a small whimper, trying to pull her hand closer to her face.

"Chéri, if you move your hand, you're gonna fall—okay?" Fred said softly, adjusting his grip on her legs, making sure she wouldn't slip.

Y/n hummed in response, tucking her head on Fred's shoulder as he kept on walking.

Fred was halfway to the common room—walking slowly as to not wake up Y/n when he froze.

Having her thumb clasped between her fingers around Fred's chest, supporting her upper body weight—Fred felt her head twitching, needing something to soothe her to sleep.

Not wanting to have to explain the situation to the sleeping girl or disappoint Angelina—Fred adjusted the girl, now giving her a piggy-front, letting Y/n head sit comfortably against his neck.

Fred debated checking whether his face was on fire when the sleeping girl began to press little kisses on his neck, trying to substitute something for her thumb.

Fred continued walking, but why was he so flustered?

Maybe it’s his soulmate’s best friend.

What was her name again? Y/n?

Fred knocked on the Hufflepuff dorm door in the tune of Helga Hufflepuff. Before walking in and taking the stairs to the girl’s dormitory.

Trying not to feel awkward, he searched the dorm labels until he saw it.

______________

Girls Dorm #207

- Susan Bones

- Lia Diggory

- Y/n L/n

______________

Praising Merlin that she didn’t have too many roommates— He knocked on the door a few times, jumping up again to make sure Y/n didn’t slip.

"Hello?" A small voice asked, a very tired red head opened the door.

Fred gave an award smile. "I have a delivery?"

The girl smiled before letting him in and pointing at the empty bed and messed up desk.

Feed walked over, clutching on to Y/n as he quickly flipped the blanket open and tucked her instead. Y/n immediately latched onto the blankets.

Fred smiled before looking at her desk—tons of dress designs a long with tons of reminders everywhere when a certain one caught his eyes.

The Weasley Twins Inspired Dress

Curious, he picked up the sketch to see that she managed to make a confetti canon dress, inspired by that time he and George covered the Slytherin team in confetti right before a Quidditch match against Hufflepuff.

"I think you're cute together," Susan whispered bashfully, her cheeks pink.

"Oh no," her face fell when Fred denied it. "I already found my soulmate today."

"Oh I'm sorry." Susan apologised, combing her hair. "I just thought your h—never mind." She began to point at her neck before waving it off. "I assume you know how to take care of it?"

"Yeah! I'm planning on asking her to the yule ball!" Fred said, not having any idea what Susan was talking about.

"What? Ya know what—" Susan dug through her make up bag before grabbing Fred's arm and swatching some concealer shades. "You're lucky, you're my winter shade." Susan tossed Fred a concealer wand before shooing him out. "Bye!"

Holding onto the concealer, extremely confused, Fred walked back to him common room before going into the bathroom.

"Shit." Fred vocalised, realising why Susan Bones has thrown him concealer.

A light hickey lay on the side of his neck where Y/n had been.

Fred spent the next two hours trying to figure out how concealer worked.

He didn't understand it—instead opting for a scarf instead to cover up the blotchy disaster he created on his neck.

●●●

Y/n genuinely didn't question why she woke up in her bed and more concerned on her planner—you could see her running up and down the halls all day.

"Professor Moody, may I borrow Ron Weasley please?"

Ron showed her his suit for the ball. "Never mind, you're beyond help. Professor Moody, you can have him back." Y/n said, scribbling something out in her planner.

Taking the stairs, Y/n just started walking—flipping to the back of her planner to edit some sketches and ideas for dresses—not noticing the stair cases changing directions.

Walking up and down and sideways along the halls, Y/n kept walking until she bumped into someone.

"I'm so sorry!" She said automatically only to be shushed by two voices. "Huh—?"

""SHH!" Y/n looked at the two Weasley twins.

"Why?" She asked, looking around to see nobody.

"I don' know," Fred admitted.

"We're skipping, so I assume we have to be quiet." George finished.

The Hufflepuff scoffed. "I'm not skipping. I did all my work in advance so I could focus of the dress making." She looked down at the planner. "And on that note—you have a appointment with me in two minutes. We can't be late!"

"Does that mean you have the answers?" Fred asked as he got dragged away.

"We can discuss answers after we're on time for our session."

"If it's our appointment, how can we be late?"

Y/n sighed, shaking her head. “It’s fine we’re almost there, Willow’s gonna be upset.”

“Who?”

Y/n dragged Fred near a tree where a small desk, mannequins and color swatches were, Y/n thrust Fred upon a little platform until tree branches began to swing around chaotically.

“Willow! Calm down! This isn’t Ron! This is a different Weasley!” Y/n started yelling.

“Willow? As in the Whomping Willow?!”

“Stop moving!” Y/n snapped, petting the branches. “Willow didn’t like it when your brother nearly killed her with a car. I think she has like— Weasley trauma.”

Fred cackled. “Weasley trauma?” A tree branch slapped the back of his head. “Hey!”

“She’s very sensitive.” Y/n defended. “Speaking of Ron, please tell me your suit isn’t as hideous.”

“Don’t worry— I just have a normal suit… I wasn’t sure if I should’ve brought it so I just wore it—”

“That’s perfect. Mind shrugging off the jacket and scarf?”

Nervously, Fred took off the scarf and jacket, revealing the concealer mess on his neck.

“Oh sweetie, what the hell happened to your neck!” Y/n cooed. "Goodness, let me help you. You're gonna break out... Accio makeup kit!"

"I have every shade under the sun, I'm helping people with their makeup too." Y/n waved her hand down. "Get down, off." Y/n stepped onto the platform as Fred stepped off, facing Y/n.

Y/n took a makeup wipe and cleaned up the spot before taking out a whisk and spinning it on the hickey.

"When did you learn how to hide hickey? Does that even work?" Fred asked, watching the metal kitchen utensil.

"Oh hush, it's common knowledge." Y/n pushed his face away, continuing to whisk. "It helps the blood disperse. Next time, put ice on it before it bruises."

Shade matching and blending it in, Y/n hoped Fred couldn't hear her heart beating out of her chest as she finished hiding the red mark. "See? Like it never even happened."

Willow presented a mirror for Fred to see for himself, thank god because that scarf was very itchy.

"Now, how much are we thinking off the tie?" Y/n held up a tape measure and a sharpie, tucking the sharpie behind her ear. "It supposed to be around your belt buckle...Do you feel comfortable with it over here?"

Fred nodded, looking at her in the mirror more than him. Why hadn't he seen her more often? Has she been friends with Angelina for a long time?

"Lovely...okay do you mind if I take this?" Y/n took the colorful tie off Fred and held it up to Willow." Willow, this is Fred's tie." Willow held onto the tie.

"Okay just one second..." Y/n brought out a sheet of brown fabric and a sheet of black fabric and hopped onto the platform with him. She pulled the black one around half of his chest and the brown one around the other half.

"Okay so I think the brown is more flattering on you, I feel like you look paler with the black one—Hey!"

Fred's head started tilting to one side as he imagined Angelina and her hanging out—still in disbelief he had actually found his soulmate.

Y/n grabbed his jaw and moved it so that it faced her. "Sorry, I just need to see—" Y/n furrowed her eyebrows confused as Fred pointed at something in the distance behind her.

Y/n looked behind her only for her jaw to pulled back and facing Fred, pulling the same move she had accidentally done to him. "Touché," She smiled—desperately hoping she wasn't blushing.

"How long have you friends with Angelina?" Fred asked, snapping Y/n out of her mental freakout.

"Oh—uh, since first year. We met on the train." Y/n cast a spell to turn Fred's suit brown. "Yeah that looks better—you looked like you were going to a funeral."

“Then why do I never see you guys hang out?”

Y/n thinks before answering. “I like to keep myself busy, that or I just eat in the kitchen.”

“Why not hang out with Angelina?”

“Uh- Well Alicia and I don’t really get along so I don’t want to make it weird for Angelina. Besides, most of the time Angelina hangs out with me in the kitchen.”

So that’s why Fred never sees Angelina in the Great hall. “Why the kitchen?”

“Because the house elves love me.” Y/n smiled, writing her to do list. “Besides, I like baking.”

Fred stepped off the platform and watched Y/n write. “Do you bake any of the food in the Great Hall?”

“The brownies, but sometimes I also cook the ribs but I like baking more than cooking.”

Fred loves the brownies, he eats them every time they show up on the table.

“Speaking of food… It’s dinner, you better hurry before all the seats are taken.” Y/n starting putting things away and getting out a dress presumingly belonging to her next appointment.

Fred stepped off the small platform, checking his covered hickey once more before starting to turn around. "You aren't going to dinner?"

"Maybe later." She responded quickly, casting a spell on the dress. "Not hungry. " She said briefly. "You can pick up your tie by like tomorrow."

"Alright then, I'll see you around?"

"Sure. Angelina! Can you grab that?" A piece of fabric swirled away in the wind near an approaching Angelina.

Fred walked away, happy with his day and his fitting appointment.

(A/N lmao I have nooooo idea how to end these. Part two could be ready tomorrow or in 3 months, we'll see.)

#fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #angst with a happy ending #light angst #fluff #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #harry potter #harry potter fandom #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley fic #idk what im doing #hufflepuff reader #wizarding world #soulmate au

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ervotica · 2 months ago

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loved up?

pairing; fred weasley x fem!reader

series; the bestfriendverse NEW! (ongoing)

warnings; allusions to self harm (reader), pining, idiots in love (but they don't know it yet), a lil sad but also fluffy

synopsis; fred gives you - his obviously platonic best friend - a cuddle in the common room. an interrogation ensues.

a/n; i'm veeeery rusty but i'm back bitches!! and proud to present.... the bestfriendverse. turning this into a lil series of drabbles (& hopefully longer chapters) if my brain keeps braining for long enough. so requests are muchly appreciated and my inbox is always open. cannot wait to explore these two in more depth!!! missed you all </3

You're halfway into Fred's lap when George and Lee round the corner to the common room, melty soft and warm with your legs over his thighs, eyes closed and lashes brushing at the juncture between his shoulder and neck.

He smells lovely.

He feels even lovelier – that soft rumble of his chest that lazily pushes its way through you, his hand at the side of your neck, keeping you nuzzling against him like a needy kitten. He hikes you further up and you preen, eyes still closed, half asleep and well on your way to drooling on his shoulder.

You stretch and wheedle your arms underneath his own until your shoulder is squeezed beneath his armpit. He makes room for you, as expected.

"Oi! They're having a love-fest in here!" Lee says. You groan and dig your head further into Fred's neck. Your heartbeat ticks up when he scrubs a sweeping circle over your back with his palm outstretched –you don't even mind when he rucks up your t-shirt.

You diligently ignore the hammering in your own ears.

The other end of the settee dips and George's weight settles at your back, knuckles brushing at the back of your neck in a way he knows makes you bristle and squirm. You squeak and make to dive behind Fred.

"Leave her be, Georgie," Fred says, mock offence dripping from his every syllable. His arm lifts instinctively and he ushers you right under until you're well and truly squashed, your whole body curled inward against his chest. It's endearing how seriously he takes defending your honour. "We were very comfortable before you interrupted, you silly sod."

"I resent that comment."

"You resemble it, more like."

George gasps in faux horror. You tip your head upwards just in time to watch Lee throw his arms around the pair of you, a devious grin on his face.

You know what he's going to say, no matter how much you wish he wouldn't.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you two looked proper loved up. Wouldn't you agree, George?"

"Absolutely."

If Fred feels you deflate, he's gracious enough not to mention it. Your lips purse and you busy yourself picking at your cuticles.

"Shut up," Fred snorts as though the thought alone is utterly ridiculous. Your heart does this awful sort of flip-flop that knocks the breath right out of you– it leaves an ache that carries right down to your toes.

You try to disentangle yourself from him as smoothly as possible. You want to run and hide from this conversation, the very conversation you've been rehearsing over and over in your head for months.

Being in love with your best friend isn't for the faint of heart.

Fred clings when you attempt to slide out of his grip, tugging you right back into his side. Heat rises to your cheeks so fast you feel faint.

Honestly, you might pass out right now.

Lee's already distracted, animatedly discussing the next upcoming prank with almost concerning fervour. Fred absentmindedly fiddles with the hem of your t-shirt as he listens.

Godric, you're burning up.

You can feel George's eyes on you. You know what he wants to say – can picture it right down to the pitying look in his eyes. He's always been the more observant twin.

You don't want to hear it.

Fred won't let go no matter how much you fidget. You pick at your nails until red pools at the edges of your cuticles. The sting prickles at your eyes.

"Hey." Fred's attention snaps to you suddenly. "What's the matter, lovie? You feeling alright?"

Fucking hell. He must be doing it on purpose, surely. Your throat burns.

"Nothing," you croak. "I'm okay."

It's just convincing enough for him to leave it, though you're half sure you'll be questioned later.

He smears a kiss to the crown of your head before he stands and it almost finishes you off.

That boy is going to be the death of you.

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loomis-maxima · 7 months ago

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When I tell you guys to get onto Character.ai and search up anyone and to add the voice to the conversation; I mean it. here i am, lying on my bed kicking my legs like a school girl

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dracomalfoy7 · 2 months ago

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New Heights

Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Y/N is a year older than Fred and after not seeing him all summer Fred’s growth spurt becomes…a surprise.

Word Count: 2.2k+

Warnings: Fluff, Swearingish?

A/N: Been back on Harry Potter TikTok and there are some good POV’s so I'm writing them for you guys ;) gif isn't mine. PS. My Request are open!.

You have always been close with the Weasley family. Your mom was best friends with Molly, so your summers were practically spent at the Burrow. You loved the chaos of it all—Percy with his nose in a book, Fred and George constantly trying to out-prank each other, Ginny tagging along with the boys, and Ron being the easy target of his older brothers' tricks. But it was Percy you were closest to. Only a year younger than him, you and Percy shared a unique bond. While everyone else was wild and adventurous, the two of you spent countless hours with him reading and you flying on your broom. Of course, you both loved to scheme against Fred and George whenever the opportunity arose.

When you finally got your letter to Hogwarts, you were ecstatic. Percy was already there, and you couldn’t wait to be sorted into Gryffindor and spend your school days together just like you had spent your summers. That didn’t happen, though. The Sorting Hat placed you in Slytherin. You were devastated at first, but it didn’t take long to realize that being in different houses didn’t change anything. You still spent every free moment with Percy, and more often than not, that meant time with his family as well.

That was how it had always been—until this past summer. When you were offered a spot in the exclusive quidditch camp. Though the decision wasn’t easy, Percy, being the ever-logical best friend he was, insisted you take the opportunity. "We'll always be here," he'd said. "But this is a once-in-a-lifetime chance."

And so, you went. The summer flew by in a whirlwind of practices, matches, and drills. You barely had time to write home, and when you returned to Hogwarts, it felt like you'd been gone for ages.

Percy greeted you at the train station with a tight hug, rambling on about his summer adventures. "Penelope Clearwater and I spent a lot of time together," he said with a small blush. You smiled, happy that Percy had found someone to share his time with. Then he continued, telling you all about the pranks Fred and George had pulled on Ron, and how Ginny had grown more into her own.

As the two of you walked into the Great Hall, you couldn't help but notice how different it felt coming back. Percy steered you towards the Gryffindor table where the rest of the Weasleys were sitting. Your heart lifted when you saw them—Ginny, Ron, George, Fred. They stood up to greet you, and you smiled warmly at them.

But then your gaze landed on Fred.

He turned to face you, and you froze for a moment, not believing your eyes. The Fred Weasley you had last seen before summer had changed—dramatically.

He had grown. A lot.

Fred Weasley turned toward you and stood up. The last time you'd seen him, he had been your typical gangly teenage boy, all limbs and grins. But now... well, now he was towering over your 5’3" frame. His shoulders had broadened over the summer, his face had lost its boyish roundness, and there was a new confidence about him that made your stomach flip unexpectedly.

"Y/N!" Fred grinned down at you, his voice a bit deeper than you remembered too. He enveloped you in a tight, friendly hug, the warmth of him surrounding you in a way that was strangely comforting and yet disorienting all at once.

"You’re taller," was the first thing you said when he pulled away, still looking up at him in disbelief.

Fred’s grin widened, mischief flickering in his eyes. "Noticed, did you?"

George piped up from behind him, laughing. "Fred n' I had a bit of a growth spurt, haven’t we? Over the summer, we especially him shot up like a bloody tree."

"Yeah, had a bit of a growth spurt," Fred said casually, though the amusement in his eyes suggested he was reveling in your reaction. "Quidditch does that to you."

"Quidditch?" you echoed, still staring up at him in disbelief.

"Yeah, been practicing loads this summer," Fred explained, crossing his arms over his chest. "George and I are aiming for professional teams once we’re done here."

You nodded, but your thoughts were still swirling. How had Fred changed so much in just one summer? It wasn’t just the height or the broader shoulders; there was something different about him. He seemed more... grown up.

"Y/N, you’re staring," Percy’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned to see him smirking at you, a knowing glint in his eyes.

Heat flooded your face. "I am not!" you protested, but Percy raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

Fred laughed, the sound deep and warm, and your stomach did another unexpected flip. "It’s alright, Y/N. You can stare all you want. I don't mind."

You felt a flutter of surprise, one you hadn’t expected. This wasn’t the Fred Weasley you remembered—this was someone else entirely.

Your brain tried to catch up with the change, but it was hard to shake the image of the Fred you’d known before. The one you’d spent years pranking, teasing, and playfully bickering with. You glanced back at Percy, who just gave you a knowing smirk. "It’s been quite the adjustment," Percy said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You turned back to Fred, and he winked at you. "Still shorter than you in spirit, though."

You found yourself laughing, but there was a nervous edge to it. What was this? Why did you suddenly feel…different around him? You’d known Fred since you were kids. You’d never felt this way before, not even a little. But now, standing in front of him, it was like someone had flipped a switch inside you.

"I suppose I’ll have to get used to looking up at you now," you said, trying to shake off the odd feeling.

Fred raised an eyebrow, his grin never faltering. "You’ll manage. If not, I’m happy to carry you around." He winked again, and this time, you felt your cheeks heat up.

Merlin, this was going to be a long year.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, but Fred's new height and presence stayed in the back of your mind. You tried to act normal—laughing with the others, catching up on everything you’d missed. But every time Fred spoke or laughed, you found yourself glancing his way, your heart giving a little lurch each time.

Later that evening, as you sat in the common room with Percy, you couldn’t help but bring it up.

"Did Fred always…well, has he always been…?"

"Tall?" Percy asked, raising an eyebrow. "Not until this summer. Why?"

You shifted uncomfortably, not sure how to explain it. "It’s just…different. He seems different."

Percy smiled knowingly. "You’re not the only one who's noticed. Ginny mentioned it too. The twins have always been a bit of prats, but now they got the looks to match."

You sighed, sinking deeper into the chair. "It’s just weird, I guess. I mean, I’ve known him forever, and now suddenly—"

"You fancy him," Percy finished, a teasing grin on his face.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly shook your head. "No, I don’t! I just…it’s weird, that’s all."

Percy chuckled. "Sure, whatever you say."

But as the days passed, you couldn’t shake the feeling. Fred’s growth spurt wasn’t the only thing that had changed. Something between you had shifted too. He was still the same mischievous, fun-loving prankster, but now, there was something else—a tension that hadn’t been there before.

You found yourself seeking him out more than usual, joining in on his and George’s pranks, laughing at his jokes just a little too hard. And Fred? Well, he didn’t seem to mind the extra attention. If anything, he seemed to enjoy it.

One evening, as you sat by the fireplace in the common room, Fred flopped down next to you, his long legs stretching out in front of him. He nudged your shoulder playfully. "You’ve been quiet today. Everything alright?"

You glanced at him, your heart doing that stupid lurching thing again. "Yeah, just…tired, I guess."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "You? Tired? Never thought I’d see the day."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help but smile. "Even I get tired sometimes."

He leaned back, resting his arm on the back of the couch behind you. "You know, if you ever need a break from Percy’s study marathons, George and I could use some help with a new prank we’re working on."

You tilted your head, curious. "What kind of prank?"

Fred’s grin turned devilish. "Oh, you’ll see. But it involves a lot of stink pellets and a certain Slytherin prefect."

You laughed, shaking your head. "You two are going to get expelled one of these days."

"Maybe," Fred said with a shrug. "But it’d be worth it."

There was a pause, and then Fred turned to you, his expression softening just a bit. "It’s good to have you back, Y/N. Summer wasn’t the same without you."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked down at your hands. "Yeah, it’s good to be back."

Fred nudged you again, this time more gently. "Don’t go running off to another Quidditch camp next summer, alright? We missed you."

You looked up at him, your breath catching slightly at the sincerity in his voice. "I missed you too, Fred."

And there it was—that stupid fluttery feeling again.

This was going to be a long, complicated year.

The first few weeks back at school were a blur of classes, quidditch practice, and catching up with friends. You were eager to get back into the rhythm of things, but you couldn’t shake the odd feeling that had settled in your chest since you’d seen Fred again. He was still the same Fred, still cracking jokes and pulling pranks with George, but now you found yourself noticing little things about him that you hadn’t before. The way his smile seemed to linger on you just a little longer than necessary, the way he always found a reason to sit next to you in the common room, the way your heart skipped a beat whenever his arm brushed against yours.

It was driving you crazy.

One evening, after quidditch practice, you found yourself heading back to the common room, only to be intercepted by Fred in the corridor. He grinned, blocking your path with an outstretched arm.

"Y/N, there you are," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me."

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. "Avoiding you? Why would I do that?"

Fred shrugged, leaning casually against the wall. "Dunno. Just seems like you’ve been... distracted lately. Didn’t think my growth spurt would have that much of an effect on you."

Your cheeks flamed. "I—what? That’s ridiculous, Fred. I’m not—"

He cut you off with a laugh, stepping closer. "Relax, Y/N. I’m just messing with you."

You huffed, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing in your chest. "You’re always messing with me, Weasley."

Fred’s grin softened into something that looked almost... fond. "Yeah, well, that’s what I do best, isn’t it?"

You couldn’t argue with that. Fred had always been a tease, always finding ways to get under your skin. But now, it felt different. Now, his teasing sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and you weren’t sure how to handle it.

"You’re acting weird," you muttered, trying to avoid his gaze.

"Weird?" Fred repeated, feigning offense. "Me? Never."

You rolled your eyes, but before you could say anything else, Fred reached out and gently tugged on a strand of your hair. "Come on, Y/N," he said, his voice lower now, more serious. "You know I’ve always liked you, right?"

Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared up at him, wide-eyed. "Liked me?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Fred nodded, his eyes searching yours. "Yeah. I mean, you’ve always been like... one of us. Part of the family. But this summer, I don’t know... I guess I realized I like you more than just... as part of the family."

Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you felt a warmth spread through your chest. "Fred, I—"

He held up a hand, cutting you off. "You don’t have to say anything now. I just wanted you to know. But, if you want to go flying sometime... just the two of us, you know where to find me."

With that, Fred shot you one last grin, his eyes twinkling, before turning on his heel and sauntering down the corridor, leaving you standing there, stunned.

Your head was spinning, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Fred Weasley—Fred Weasley—had just told you he liked you. And not in the way you’d always thought, like a brother or a friend. No, this was something different, something that made your heart race and your palms sweat.

As you stood there in the empty corridor, you realized that maybe—just maybe—Fred wasn’t the only one whose feelings had changed over the summer.

Fred’s growth spurt had certainly been a surprise, but what surprised you even more was how much your own feelings had grown right alongside him. And now, as you made your way back to the common room, one thought echoed in your mind:

Maybe it was time to take Fred up on that flying offer.

#fred #weasley #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x reader #fred x y/n #slytherin #fred x slytherin!reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred fanfiction #fred weasley angst #harry potter #harry potter writing #wizarding world #hogwarts au #gryffindor

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odinsonslut · 2 years ago

Text

Young

⊹ genre: Fluff mostly, minimal angst

⊹ pairing: Fred Weasley x Slytherin female reader

⊹ themes: Friends to lovers

⊹ summary: Fred rejected your advances, claiming you’re too young. You set out to seduce him, which backfires. Unwarranted comments were made in your presence, and George attempted to comfort you, finally explaining his fears and feelings in the process.

⊹ warnings: Swearing, third-party slut-shaming of the reader, mentions of an emotionally toxic relationship, very brief mention of drugs.

⊹ word count: 1.7k

⊹ a/n: I don’t know why I’ve chosen to base this whole fic off of rejection yet again, but It’s completely different to the last, trust. A cute Fred one today because I’ve had a recent fixation on the twins and can’t seem to write for anyone else atm.

Confidence has come naturally to you since the first day you walked through the castle doors. Many would wager that’s why you ended up in Slytherin over Hufflepuff. You’d never had issues letting people know how you felt about them; rejection had never been a concern or a fear simply because your self-assurance wasn’t so easily deteriorated.

This wasn’t ever in question until two weeks ago. You hadn’t thought twice about approaching Fred after months of mutual teasing, or so you thought it was. You went to his spot on Gryffindor’s table in the morning, greeting him with a single pumpkin pasty. You waited till he took a bite out of it before making some quip that you couldn’t seem to, or rather didn’t want to remember, about owing you a kiss and maybe something more in return for it, to which he painfully, tragically mustered a chuckle past his lips, probably the most awkward position I’ve seen him in, before finally finding the words to let you down easily.

“You know I love you endlessly, but we’re friends” He could’ve just as easily stopped there, but he continued.

“You’re just a little too young for me.”

Young

He briefly dated Amelia Farrow last spring, and she’s four months younger than you, so obviously, it wasn’t an age issue. He saw you as immature, a kid. He couldn’t even begin to picture you as attractive in any form. Actually, feeling affected as a result of rejection was unfamiliar; it was scary. How had you allowed yourself to feel enough for a man that your own stability suffered? As a result, you didn’t just feel hurt, you felt inferior, and that was harrowing enough in itself.

You were just beginning to fall into another rant directing every expressional detail from the twitch of his bottom lip to the scrunch in his left brow when you were interrupted by a loud sigh.

“Babe, I couldn’t live a day without you, but swooning over a blood-traitor Weasley is way more than I can handle for the 7th time this morning”, Pansy quipped after a supportive kiss on my cheek.

“Give me a solution then”, you pleaded, faux pouting while hugging her thighs desperately.

“Seduce him, love; you’ve got the best ass on anyone in this entire school. Malfoy tells me he’s got a preference for it, says he lets a lot slip when they’re off smoking muggle grass.”

“Teach me how. You’re probably the only girl in our year every Slytherin male wants to shag a second time.”

It was the first quidditch match of the year, so naturally, you put on your uniform from 3rd year to cheer the team on. Malfoy found your overreaction to rejection amusing, like a fish out of water, to use his words, so he didn’t mind playing the role of the pawn in your game. You spent all game cheering Draco on, making sure you were just enthusiastic enough to attract Fred’s attention.

The game finally came to an end. Gryffindor just barely scraped by, with Harry catching the snitch. I could already see Oliver Wood pushing Fred about, demanding a valid reason for his poor performance during the game. He pushed Wood off of him and stormed off with an exasperated look on his face.

I caught up to him a few feet away, deciding to skip past the jokes, figuring he wasn’t quite in the mood.

“Hey, you okay?” I timidly asked, reaching out to stroke his hand

“You sure move on quick, don’t you?” He spoke harshly, ignoring my question completely

“Are you serious? You reject me, then get mad at my attempts to move past that?” I shoved his shoulder, feigning annoyance. I knew exactly what I was doing, trying to prompt a reaction out of him.

“And what the hell are you wearing? Damn near sent Adrian Pucey spiralling into the benches with your ass out like that.”

“So I had both team’s beaters distracted, huh?”

“I wasn’t distracted so much as horrified.” He immediately followed

You shoved him playfully. “Shut up, weasel. You’re literally still staring at my tits.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t put that outfit on for me to stare at?” He whispered as we came to a halt just outside the quidditch changing rooms

To my dismay, I couldn’t think of anything to do or say but scoff at him, to which his grin grew even bigger.

He turned to leave, my brain regaining activity without the pressure of his eyes in contact with mine.

“I put it on so you’d have a clearer image to jack off to tonight.”

I headed back to my dorm before he could get another word in.

I approached the great hall hand in hand with Daphne Greengrass, completely satisfied with the way I left things with Fred yesterday, convinced I’d won. The smile on my face immediately dropped as I heard the conversation taking place at the Gryffindor table.

“- he’s even got a Slytherin girl in his pocket, dressing up like a little slut just for him.”

“Tell me, Weasley, does she like it rough?”

“Seems like the kind of girl that’d take it in the back.”

Your heart dropped as you heard comments from miscellaneous men in the house, jeering over each other, collectively patting an angry-looking Fred on his back and shoulders in a congratulatory manner.

We made eye contact. Before the men at his table sensed my presence, too, I broke away from Daphne and sprinted out of the Hall. I sank by a tree in front of the lake as I took shallow breaths.

What hurts is that every assumption they made about my character felt deserving. When did I become the girl so desperate for one man’s attention that I so pathetically made myself more sexually desirable in his eyes? So that his lust would cloud his judgement and throw me lay at the very least? I hadn’t even realised how delirious I was acting and how painfully obvious it was to everyone but me just how much more I clung to the idea of him. It was like a montage of clarity was playing in my brain, of the way I continued running up to the Gryffindor common room every morning, taking every opportunity to make what I thought was subtle physical contact with him. God.

I let out a little yelp when I finally opened my eyes. Fred sat right next to me, leaning his head against the tree the same way I was.

“God, you scared me half to death! fucking cunt” I muttered the last part, allowing my anger to peak through

“I had Malfoy help me make sure those guys’ mouths stay shut. I’m sorry you had to hear that, and I’m sorry they were able to say more than two words without me hexing them and their mothers, to begin with. None of what any of them said is worth your care. They heard us talking outside the changing rooms yesterday. They’re all jealous little virgins that have-

“They were things I needed to hear” I cut him off before he fell into a rant that honestly wouldn’t have made a difference to the way I felt.

He looked at me incredulously, struggling to find the words to respond.

“I was seeking your attention so incredibly desperately. It embarrasses me to think about it. You said no; I should’ve respected that and left it as it was. I took your reasoning personally, and for the way I’ve acted since that day, I apologise, truly,” I continued.

He sighed. “I only said what I said out of fear. I’m sure you remember I briefly dated a Hufflepuff girl in your year, Amelia. I made a mistake getting involved with her. She didn’t know how to separate love from attachment, and it got to a point her dependence on me started affecting her mental well-being, along with mine. Nobody saw much of me during the time we were dating because I was just so caught up with making sure she was okay since she relied on me completely. I didn’t realise I was even allowed to have boundaries at all in a relationship. She constantly made me feel selfish and uncaring for wanting space or even just time with my family. When you told me how you felt about me, I had recovered from the relationship, but I hadn’t yet allowed myself to consider a future relationship with another person. I said what I thought I needed to say to avoid our relationship turning into the one I had with Amelia. But ever since you told me how you felt about me, it made me realise nothing about us has ever been platonic to me. I have never thought of you that way, and even when I tried to, I didn’t know how to look at you in any other way than lovingly. I feel so much for you. I could see myself loving you so easily. I’m just really afraid. I don’t know if I’m ready to navigate that all over again.”

It took me a while to respond, taking in everything he said in a state of such vulnerability. I noticed a stray tear on my skirt; it was his. I immediately reached out to hold his hands in comfort. I opened my mouth to respond but was cut off yet again.

“I will never allow anyone to say a word against you ever again, love.” He added

“I care a lot about you, Fred. I reacted the way I did, with such force and conviction, because it’s unfamiliar to me too, feeling so deeply for someone. Whatever you want to come from this, we can do. I want to learn to keep my independence through my feelings for you. I don’t think declaring something more than friendship will change things between us overnight, and I think all we need to do is keep being us.”

“Okay”, he responded timidly but surely.

He could’ve just stopped there, but I’d come to learn that’s never something to expect from him.

“I absolutely did jack off to you last night, though.”

I kicked him in the shin as we walked back to the castle, hand in hand.

End

✩ I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE ANY OF MY WRITING POSTED ON ANY EXTERNAL WEBSITES ✩

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kaciebello · 9 months ago

Text

Love accusations

Masterlist George Weasley x Gryffindor! reader (fem) Summary: 3 instances where you deny dating George, and the one where you don’t. Much to Fred's dismay. warnings: Mention of sex, swearing, no use of y/n Authors note: one-shot. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes beforehand. Proofread by me and me only (Ｔ▽Ｔ) Word count: 3k

A pair of Gryffindor sat on a sofa in a secluded part of the common room. The two had previously worked on their charms homework together, however, one had seemingly finished and moved on to a book, while the other one took avoiding it as his main mission in life. However, any attempt to get a reaction from the girl goes unnoticed by her. Disappointed he returned to doing his homework. They both fail to notice his twin approaching with their friend.

“You two ARE having sex!” Fred yells making some heads in the common room turn in their direction with curiosity. George jumps a bit in shock and looks at his brother. Eyes widening.

“Really? George, why didn't you tell me? I would have put my book down.” Says the girl lazily not even attempting to put her book down. She was not even bothered enough to pick up her gaze from it or bothered by her friend's antics.

“ We are not!” George argues back as Fred and Lee sit down opposite the couple. That however goes flat to their ears. Because if there is something Fred loves more than testing his brothers, it's teasing his twin brother.

“Fred, the only people having sex here, are the characters in my book.” She says, turning to another page. George leans over and tries to peek whether that is true or not. The girl shuts the book with a loud bang and places it gently on the table. Now finally giving all the attention to the overly loud Gryffindor duo. Lee's hand reaches for the book but she just swats it away.

“What do you want.” She asks.

“I want, you two to admit you're dating.” He says pointing a finger between her and George.

“Not gonna happen Fred.”

“Why not?”

“ Because we are not dating, easy as that.”

“Bullshit!” Fred yells and slams his fist onto the coffee table. She leans back into the sofa and just shakes her head dissapointly. Kicking her feet up on the coffee table and crosses her hands over her chest.

“You have no valid argument, Fred. I will not debate this with you if you have no evidence.” She says looking into Fred's eyes, knowing damn well it will fire the boy up. He narrows his eyes at her and nods as if telling her he will play her little game. Quickly he turns to Lee and they start whispering sometimes glancing at the pair. The two of them made it look like they just thought of a groundbreaking strategy in quidditch.

“ You know what you're doing, right?” George leans back and looks at the girl. Giving up on the homework at this point. She just smirks and nods. Lee and Fred turn back and simultaneously clear their throats.

“We have proof.” He says seriously and pokes Lee in his side with his elbow. The girl just raises her eyebrow before motioning them to continue. Lee sits up straight.

“ I have seen you two almost kiss in the corridor before.” He says very proud of himself. Fred started franticly nod and a smile spread across his face. Gorges's eyes widen a little at this information. The girl, however, remained unphased.

“ You can't prove that it was us. I could have been anyone.” She argues back, looking at her nails, seemingly bored. Fred's smile flatters a bit before he jumps up.

“I CAN RECOGNISE MY FACE ANYWHERE!” He yells and points at the girl. She just lifts her gaze and him.

“You didn't see us tho. Lee did. Hence, could have been anyone.” Fred's and George's faces snap to Lee who gulps very loudly. Looking nervous between the two brothers and the girl. Lee felt like in the front line of a war.

“ We walked together to the library after tho.” He says.

“ You walked together to the library after!” Fred repeats seeing this as his victory. Placing his hands on his hips and making a superhero pose. The girl just sighs and takes her legs off of the coffee table.

“ Are you jealous about me almost kissing George? Fine. I can almost kiss Lee if you want. Even you if you desire so much.” Whine leaves Geroge as Fred and Lee watch the girl in confusion.

“What.”

“You heard me, Weasley.” She says before getting up from her comfortable spot. Both Lee and Fred move a few inches back. She just chuckles and goes to pack her things. George sees this and goes to do the same.

“Plus it couldn't be me kissing George, as I fancy someone else.” She says after picking her book from the table and placing it in her bag.

“You do?” Say all 3 boys at the same time. She just rolls her eyes at their antics and turns to leave. George hurriedly followed her.

“ Where are you going?” Fred asks as both of them get up and move toward the exit. She just flashes him a smile.

“ To almost kiss your brother in the corridor.”

—

The four of them were on their way to Hogsmeade. The snow as fallen in a thick layer and all there was to do was some shopping. The twins wanted to buy some trinkets from Zonks, while Lee and the girl had only butter beer on their minds. Walking swiftly to get from the cold and hoping their younger siblings don't catch up on them and they would be forced to take them with. Fred and Lee led the group, while the other two were falling behind. Fred and Lee could be heard from miles away. George opted for a much quieter conversation with his partner.

“ When are we going to tell him?” asks George the girl next to him. “Don't get me wrong, it's hilarious, but I miss holding your hand.” He continues and his hand brushes over hers. Although he dubs she could feel it over her gloves. To be fair, George finds it as much fun as she does. He just sometimes misses her despite being right next to her.

“You can hold my hand whenever you want to, but, It's too much fun, it's like he's obsessed.” A smile spreads across her lips as she stops her movements and looks at the boy. He also stops and looks at the girl. Her hand extends to him as a gentle offering. He takes it as fast as he can. Walking closer to her, he places his other hand on her cheek. Smile adored both of them, as George leaned in, Smack.

Crumbs of snowball have fallen on her face, a giggle escaped her. George wipes his head around to see his brother and friend both with loaded-up snowballs. Before he can react, two more hit him. Effectively stunning him.

“OI! Hurry up you lovebirds!” yells Lee before he and Fred run in the direction of Three Broomsticks. George just curses and runs behind them. Leaving the girl to leisurely walk and meet them there.

When she got here, all of them had already shed their outdoor layers and had butterbeers sitting in front of them. One was in a space next to George waiting for her. She took her scarf and coat off. Something perked up Fred's attention.

“Is this your way of telling us?” He says pointing between her and George.

“Telling you what?” She asks, sitting down. Not even being able to take a sip of her drink before Fred spits other nonces.

“That you two are together.” Lee is however faster and suppresses his friend in the explanation. The girl just rolls her eyes before taking a sip. A foam mustache forms on her upper lip that she quickly wipes with the sleeve of her sweater. Momentarily stopping to progress something.

“ Guys, we have been over this.” Defends George this time. Fred just narrowed his eyes at him before pointing at the girl, who was still frozen.

“Explain this then!” He says and grabs the sleeve of the sweater she was wearing. “ This is your sweater!!” Sudden touch wakes the girl up and she retracts her hand.

“Again Fred, you can't prove that.” He looks at her in disbelief, lost for words from the sheer audacity of this girl. Groan leaves George and Lee is just laughing at his friends' antics.

“Oh? So the giant G on the front doesn't mean anything?” Recovers Fred rather quickly. George chokes on his butter beer and Lee goes to pat him on the back. The girl looks down and stretches the sweater. There is indeed a giant G on it. No dubbed Mrs. Weasly work as always. She wondered if she did it to help herself to keep track of whose laundry she was doing.

“It's just a G, could mean anything.” leaves her.

“G for George.”

“ Or G for Ginny, ya know? Your sister.” She says, raising her eyebrow at him.

“Why would you have my sister's sweater?” he asks accusingly. She just shrugs and takes another sip from her drink.

“ Why would I have George's one? I don't like him like that.” When she says it like that it makes sense for her to have Ginnys' sweater more than Georges.

“So you do like him!” Lee jumps on the accusation train. Another groan leaves George and he finishes his drink.

“Just how I like you, and Fred, and Padma, and Harry, And-”

“ Okay, okay, I get it.” Freds gives up and takes a sip. A smirk spreads on his face. “ So tell us, who do you fancy?”

“Hmmm, well, truth to be told, he's a Gryffindor, tall, and very cheeky and his name is- WELL would you look at that! I will get us another round.” She says and gets up from her spot. Knowing better than to take Fred's bait, she walked away to the bar. She can hear Fred turning to Lee and George.

“I'm telling you it's George, You can't fight me on this one!” Georges's giggles are heard throughout the tavern. “ Motherfucker, you ain't telling us shit!”

—

A scream is heard throughout the burrow, together with fast steps going down the stairs.

Harry, Hermione, and Lee turn to the sound startled. The 3 Weasleys, however, not even looking up from their card game. Fred places one card down making Ginny frown and carefully study her own. Ron just curses under his breath.

The girl appeared first with the other twin on her toes. She stops in front of the group, eyes gleaming with victory. George stops once he notices the other people, opting to just stand behind her.

“Are you okay?” Hermione asks, Placing her own card down without even looking. Ron curses again and tries to peak at Harry's cards. He just presses them to his chest, preventing him.

“Yeah, why?” The girl asks, clearly out of breath from running from the much faster boy behind her.

“ The scream?” Harry says, not really sure he wants to join the conversation. She just waves her arms at them.

“Oh no, don't worry. It's something George did.” The boy behind her straightens at his name. Looking at his sister who seemed to be winning the game with almost no effort.

“ Oh Merlin, he finally did it. He showed her the birthday suit.” Fred says.

“and it was SMALL.” Followed Lee, Fred's head snapped to his friend, he took full offense to that. Hemione's face twists in disgust. A small ‘ew’ can be heard from Ginny before she places another card on the table. Ron makes a fake gaging sound and George had nothing better than ‘dude’. The girl laughs at this.

“Oh Lee, I love you so much,” she says and goes to hug him. George whines and stops her by grabbing her upper arm.

“I can confirm that is not true mate.” Says Fred with full confidence. George just shakes his head. Hermione decided to force her cards on Harry, who was not very happy about it, and got up.

“I'm going to make some tea, you want some?” She says to the girl, she just nods and follower her to the kitchen.

“ Count me in!” Says Ginny as she places her last card on the table, successfully winning the game. Her brothers and friends just groan. Ron looks like he might cry at this point.

The girls moved to the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley was looking out the window, watching her older sons and husband work in the yard. She notices them walking into the kitchen and smiles at them. Ginny mentions something about tea and the girls sit down. After some time and bickering over what does and does not belong in tea, steaming cups were sat before them. Hermione breaks the silence.

“So, when are you gonna announce it?” Confused look from the girl, Mrs. Weasly just glances at them, seemingly paying them no mind. While she may be facing the window, her years are very much facing the three girls sitting at her dining table. Because be assured if something is going on with her children, under her roof, she is bound to know. The girls didn't even have time to answer before Ginny jumped in.

“Wait, are not just pretending to not know in front of Fred?” She asked, confused as well. Hermione stops putting sugar in her tea and fully turns to the girl. She grabs her hands into hers and looks her in the eyes.

“Are you?” The girl grows nervous. Curse Ginny and her watching people skills.

“I have no idea what you're on about Hermione.” she says with a full chest, then leans in and whispers.” Let's not talk about it in front of his mum!”

“Stop whispering, we all know something is going on between you and George. I know my brothers, and I know when they have that lovesick look.” Ginny blows on her tea before taking a sip. Somehow she manages to give both of them a pointed look.

“I know what you look like with that look too, don't start Ginny.” says the horrified girl, still not comfortable that Mrs. Weasly is there. Ginny goes red and just looks away. Speaking of the older woman, she turns to them.

“ Who has a lovesick look?” She asks with a smile that feels a little bit too threatening to all of them, although others may see it as the sweetest one.

“You when you look at dad. What is he doing anyway.” Ginny says hoping to change the subject. The older woman just huffs, turns around, and looks out the window again. Ginny leans forward to the other two before she whispers.

“I'm just saying, let it really be my sweater you borrow next time.” A smirk on her lips when she retries. With the corner of her eye, she sees her brother trying to catch a glimpse of the embarrassed girl.

—

“Source?” Lee asks.

“ Dude, trust me,” Fred answers.

“ You know I am physically unable to do that.” The two boys were hiding behind a bush. Good view of the pair sitting on the bench.

“ I too was advised, not to trust you.” Pipes in Collin, who was dragged into this mess by an accident. The poor boy wanted a picture of that tiny firework Fred had, instead, he dragged him to this when he refused to let him borrow his camera.

“Collin, this is the talk. This is the news! I need you to take a picture of them when they kiss.” Says Fred, a creepy grin on his face. Collin scared a bit just nods his head and gets in position. After a few good minutes of spying, Fred gets impatient and turns to Lee.

“Should we find a better spot? My feet kinda hurt from squatting.” He says but then a shutter goes off. A little photo comes from the camera and Fred grabs it.

“AHA, GOT YOU!” he jumps out waving it in the air and running to the startled couple. Scaring the couple that jumps away from each other a little. Lee and Collin follow behind him.

“What are you on about Fred?” Asks him, George. Still holding the girl that had her legs on his lap.

“ YOU TWO! KISSING! I GOT PROOF!” HE yells and shows them the picture. The girl just grabs it and looks at it. Fred is jumping up and down, hugging Collin and then Lee. Victory celebration. The girl gets up and walks to the poor younger Gryffindor. George is pulled up by Fred and forced to join a jumping hug.

“Hey Collin, can I keep this?” She asks the boy gently. He just nods, seemingly scared of the situation. The girl turns back to the three overgrown babies smile on her face. She can no longer argue about proof, as she was holding one in her hand. She turns to Collin again and tells him he can go. The boy just nods and runs away as fast as he can, very much terrified of his upperclassmen.

George wiggles out of the hug and makes his way to her. Cheers can be heard from his brother and friend. When they meet again, George stops right in front of her. One of his hands finds her waist and the other on her neck. They stay like this for a few seconds seemingly in their word, not noticing the cheers dying down. He leans in, their lips brush, when...

“Not in front of me Forge!” Yells Fred with the girl in his arms, running away with laughter, followed by Lee. George was frozen in his position, the girl missing from his arms. George shakes his head at his brothers' antics. Now that he looks at it, maybe living in denial wasn't the worst thing. Because if there is anything his twin loves more than teasing other people, is teasing him.

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fanfic-wonderland · 8 months ago

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This Is War {Fred Weasley} - Part 2

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: After avoiding Fred for so long, (Y/N) finally has to face him again when they're paired up for a Potions assignment.

Word count: 7.8k

Read part one here.

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“Are you still not going to talk to him?” Daphne asks me during lunch, the same way she has asked me every day for the past few weeks.

Ever since I told her about my little… moment with Fred, she hasn’t stopped talking about it one way or another, even when I’ve asked her plenty of times not to. She seems to have become obsessed with the idea of him and I getting together because, according to her, we’d make “an oddly cute” couple, and also “because there is nothing interesting happening in my life and I want to live through you”. I don’t know what’s gone wrong with her head; I have made it extremely clear that the kiss meant nothing to me, that it was just something that happened in the heat of the moment when I was dampened and terrified and he was the only one there giving me the slightest bit of comfort. Either she still doesn’t get that, or she just doesn’t want to. “For the last time, Daphne Greengrass,” I say through gritted teeth. “No. And It’s the last time I’ll say it.”

Daphne whines like a toddler. “But why? It’s clear that he wants to talk to you!”

The kiss happened nearly two weeks ago. After I fled the scene, Fred made numerous attempts to approach me, but I would always find a way to cut the conversation short or avoid it at all costs. He seemed to finally get the hint because It’s been a few days since his last attempt. The only one who hasn’t gotten the hint yet is the girl sitting across from me. “He has his own life to worry about. I’m pretty sure he dropped it already, and so should you.”

She pouts as I stab a piece of pork chop and chew on it. “How are you so sure if you haven’t even talked to him about it yet? Maybe he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable and he’s just waiting for you to reach out to him.”

“Forget it, Daphne, there’s nothing to talk about,” I state firmly. “I made a stupid little mistake, that’s all. It’s not like I’m going to go ahead and do it again.”

“I bet you want to, though,” she mutters as she drinks from her cup.

Her voice is low, and she thinks she’s sneaky, but I hear her. I refrain from saying anything else about it, though. It’s no use trying to convince her otherwise.

Fortunately, Daphne does not bring him up for the remainder of our lunch, nor does she bring him up while we learn how to turn vinegar into wine during Charms, or when we’re fighting not to fall asleep during History of Magic. I begin to think that maybe she’s finally gotten the hint until we arrive at the Potions classroom.

Professor Snape places a small bubbling cauldron on top of his desk as we all walk in—Gryffindors on one side of the room and Slytherins on the other. Through the corner of my eye, I spot the unmistakable pair of redheaded twins, sitting two tables to my right, and I fight the urge to turn and see if one of them is looking. “Settle down, all of you,” Professor Snape says in his usual dull voice. “Today, aside from your usual class, you will be placed in pairs for a special project. You will have to work with another student and brew the most powerful Truth Serum to ever exist—the Veritaserum. While it is very easy to sneak it into someone’s pumpkin juice, the brewing process is long and complex. That is why you’ll be working with a partner to make this potion. The longer its effect, the higher your grade.”

A Gryffindor boy raises an arm and Snape turns to him with a sneer. “Does that mean we have to work on it through Spring break?”

“Unless you want to fail, then yes, you should start on the first day of Spring break.”

Nearly every student in the classroom, including Daphne and I, groans in protest. Snape’s lips curl up into a nasty smirk. “That’s quite enough, I do not need to hear your whining. Get it done, or else you fail my class.”

As students begin to look around for their desired partners, I link my arm with Daphne’s. “It shouldn’t be too hard once we combine our geniuses.”

Daphne laughs and agrees. Professor Snape’s eyes fall on us for a quick second before he adds, “I forgot to mention that this is not a friendship project. This time, I’ll be assigning the pairings.”

The class groans even louder than the first time. “Enough,” Snape holds a hand up and we quiet down. “Perhaps when you learn to behave in my class I’ll give you the privilege of choosing your partner, but right now you'll work with what I give you. Now…”

Snape taps the cauldron with the tip of his wand twice and two small pieces of paper fly out of the cauldron. He catches them mid-air and begins to read aloud. “Johnson, Angelina and Warrington, Cassius.”

And then he does the same thing with the rest of the students. Daphne and I frown at each other once we hear her name being called alongside Alicia Spinnet but I guess it was expected that we’d be separated for this assignment from the beginning. The problem is, I realize as I scan the room, that there’s no one else I’d like to work with, and the people who would be fairly tolerable are already paired up with someone else. This assignment is looking to be the worst of the year so far.

“Weasley, Fred and (Y/L/N), (Y/N).”

The absolute worst.

Daphne gasps quietly once she hears the names, her eyes on the brink of popping out. “Did he just…”

“Uh-huh,” I can’t construct a proper reaction. It feels like someone has just slapped me.

I make the mistake of looking over at Fred only to find that he’s already staring at me. He shrugs innocently but he’s clearly trying to hold back a smile while George is dying from laughter behind him. I glare at them and turn away. It can’t be a coincidence that we ended up working together. I refuse to believe that life is this cruel. “I don’t get it,” I protest as we walk out of the classroom. “How in the bloody hell do I get paired up with the person I wanted to avoid the most?”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” Daphne suggests, like there actually is a bright side. “At least you’re not working with Crabbe or Goyle.”

“You know, I think at this point I’d rather be working with either of them. At least they’re tame.”

“Yeah, and they’ll probably be more concerned with trying to eat your lunch or something.”

I laugh at her words but it is still not enough to distract me entirely from the situation. Because at the end of the day, I’m still paired up with Fred Weasley for an assignment I could do independently. “What have I possibly done to deserve something like this? There’s no way that life would just pull something like this out of nowhere.”

Daphne places a hand on my shoulder. “I did tell you to clear things out with him.”

I sigh. “You did. Do you think I’m being punished for avoiding the situation?”

“I totally do,” She nods. “Well that, or maybe it was just that Felix Felicis I drank in the morning taking effect,”

“True,” I agree… and then I halt my steps. “Wait, what did you just say?”

She stops walking as well, blinking cluelessly. “Oh, remember that Felix Felicis I brewed months ago? Well, I drank some of it today to help me with the Transfiguration test and I guess I did a great job brewing it because I seem to keep getting good luck everywhere I go. Neat, right?”

“And you’ve also been crying about Fred and I not talking for weeks,” I grab her by the collar of her shirt and she shrieks. People passing by shoot us odd looks but I’m too busy throwing daggers at her. “You were wishing for something like this to happen and of course, as soon as you drink a bit of Liquid Luck, it happens.”

“Well…” She tries to think of something before she gives up. “Okay yeah, so maybe it was kind of my fault, but you know what? You’ll thank me soon enough.”

“Right now I want to murder you,” I push her back and start walking away.

“Oh, hush, It’s not that big of a deal,” Daphne catches up. “So what if you have to work with him on a potion that takes too long to brew? So what if you have you spend your free time with him and—”

“Stop, stop, stop,” I cover my ears. “I do not want to hear it!”

Daphne leans closer and lowers her voice. “Well, you better do something about that because I think he’s waiting to talk to you.”

I follow her eyes and turn to look at Fred, who is usually walking alongside George and Lee Jordan but now is on his own leaning against a wall, hands buried in his pockets. He doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s staring at me and I have to turn away. “I guess I do have to talk to him at some point. There’s no way out of this…”

She shakes her head slowly and I sigh. It takes every bit of me to turn back around and start walking towards him, but I do it. For the first time in what feels like so long I’m standing face-to-face with him; the two of us just stare at each other for a few moments. “Hi,” Fred breaks the silence.

“Hi,” I say flatly.

There’s a slight flirtatious glint in his eyes all of a sudden. “So… we’re all coupled up now, eh?”

I blink. “Can you not phrase it like that? Anyway, as you already know we have to work on this potion during our Spring break.”

Fred nods slowly. “Right…?”

“So, that means that we’ll have to meet outside of Hogwarts.”

“You want me to come over to your house, then?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

I tense up. I could never consider asking him to come over to my house, not even jokingly. That place is cold and empty, and my family is not the most welcoming with families like Fred’s. Even if I’m not fond of Fred, I would never want to put him through something like that. “Your house sounds like the better option, if you don't mind.” I say.

Fred raises an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Yes, why?”

He shrugs. “I just think that maybe my house won’t be to your taste, that’s all.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. As long as your family doesn’t mind, I can stop by.”

“They won’t. Here—” Fred takes out a folded parchment paper and hands it to me. “Here’s my address. I’ll see you, then?”

“Yeah. Until then.”

We walk away from each other and I’m feeling nauseous all of a sudden.

Bloody hell, I have no idea how I’ll survive this…

***

The first day of Spring break arrives in the blink of an eye. Part of me is glad that I don’t have to spend my day at the manor because I’d rather be anywhere else, even Fred Weasley’s house. The other good thing is that, since I can finally use magic outside of school, I can simply apparate anywhere whenever I want. We decide to meet close to sunset, so around five thirty I gather everything I need and I get ready to disapparate from my house without the need to remind my parents where I’ll be. I’m not even sure if they’re still around (or if they even care) but I don’t think of them as the horrible sensation of apparating begins. Everything twists and turns around me, including myself, until finally, I stand amid sunshine, peace, and fresh air. I take it all in once I regain my composure. The place is a beautiful meadow and in it, a few yards away from me, stands a very peculiar, very lopsided house. It’s several stories high, with about four or five chimneys perched on top of its red roof, and a nice open yard at the entrance. I look around to make sure that there are no other houses around. This has to be it.

I walk toward it, careful not to bother the chickens wandering around the yard. There’s a sign near the entrance that reads THE BURROW and that’s how I’m certain that I’m in the right place. Fred specifically wrote that name down on the instructions.

Now that I know that I’m at Fred Weasley’s house, I start getting a tad bit nervous. “Come on, (Y/N), you got this. You’re just here to work on a school project, It’s no big deal.” After taking a few deep breaths, I finally find the courage to knock on the door. For the first few seconds, nothing happens, but soon I begin to hear faded footsteps coming from inside. They start sounding closer, and soon enough someone is opening the door. It’s an older woman with lovely red hair, slightly shorter than me. I instantly know that I am staring down at Fred’s mother. “Hello, dear. You must be (Y/N),” She greets me warmly and I nod with a courteous smile. “Oh, good, how wonderful that you’ve made it! Fred has talked so much about you these past few days.”

“Has he?”

“Oh, yes—come in, come in!” Mrs. Weasley steps aside so I can cross the threshold. “And he wanted everything to look good before you arrived. It usually takes a lot to get him to do his chores, but this time he started on them without me even asking him, so I bet you’re quite a special girl. Anyway, you set your stuff over there on the sofa, make yourself comfortable, and I’ll fetch him. Dinner’s almost ready so I hope you’re hungry.”

She gives me one final smile before she walks up the stairs while calling Fred’s name, but my mind can only spiral around the things she was saying a moment ago. My face feels like It’s boiling, and it shouldn’t be, but the fact that his mom thinks that I’m a ‘special girl’ to him makes me…

Nope. No. No. You need to snap out of it, girl.

I focus my attention back on my surroundings. Everything is so different from my house… and yet, somehow, It’s so much better. The living room is welcoming and cozy and homey. The smell of roast beef and potatoes fills the air, making my stomach grumble. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was earlier. I sit down on the sofa and wait patiently for Mrs. Weasley to come back. I’m staring at the family clock, watching the golden hand with Fred’s face on it pointing at the word HOME, until I hear quick footsteps coming down the stairs. I turn to look at Fred’s real face this time. “I see you were able to get here without getting lost on the way,” He says.

I pry my attention away from the fact that his hair is dripping wet and sticking to his forehead like he just got out of the shower. “I did not doubt myself for a moment. Shall we start working on the potion so we can get it over with?”

“Wow, you really don’t want to be here, do you?” Fred chuckles. “We’re not even going to wait for dinner first?”

I sigh. “I just don’t think It’s a good idea for me to stay too long.”

“Because you kissed me.” He doesn’t say it like a question.

“Can you not say that so loud?” I shush him, making sure his mom is still out of sight, but his grin does not falter. I don’t even want to imagine how red my face is. “But… yes, kind of.”

“Well, I’m willing to look past it if you want me to,” He says. “Unless there’s another reason you don’t want to stay?”

I furrow my eyebrows. “What other reason could there be?”

“I guess I thought that maybe you’d think my house isn’t as nice as yours…”

I stare at him in disbelief. “You really have to stop assuming that I have some sort of superiority complex over you. And for your information, I think your house is lovely.”

Fred looks surprised for a moment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” I confirm. “I probably like it a lot more than mine.”

He stares at me for a second but before either of us can say anything else, Mrs. Weasley comes back to the room. “Fred, why don’t you show (Y/N) around the rest of the house? I’ll call you all back here once the food is ready.”

Fred turns to me. “You want to?”

I cannot bring myself to say no in front of his mother. “Sure,”

He starts his little house tour from the top floor, which happens to be where his younger brother, Ron, and his best friend, Harry Potter, stay. There are five floors in total but there’s not much to see. It's mostly just the bedrooms, but the house is still larger than what I had envisioned. The family is much larger as well. “This is the second floor, and our last stop,” Fred says once we take the last step. There are two bedroom doors on this floor level. “And this is mine and George’s room. I’ll let you get a sneak peek of our latest invention if you behave.”

I roll my eyes as he opens the door. “Gee, what an honor.”

Fred and George’s bedroom is somehow almost exactly as I had imagined it—not that I’ve been spending time imagining what their room looks like. It’s a simple room: it has two identical beds, each with a bedside table, a large wardrobe, some posters pasted around the walls, and a desk holding stuff… lots of different stuff. There is a particular lingering smell of gunpowder around and I cannot even begin to imagine the things that happen inside this walls. I step inside and glance at the mess on the desk. Amongst everything else, I see a briefcase with the words Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes engraved on the side sticking out from the rest of the things. I point toward it with a questioning look. “Ah,” He clasps his hands together. “I see you’ve already spotted our products.”

“Your products?”

“George and I invent joke products,” Fred explains. “We’ve actually started testing them out at Hogwarts recently.”

“Really, at Hogwarts? And you don’t get in trouble for it?”

“Well, I didn’t say that,” Fred wags his finger practically on my face. He walks to the case and opens it; a bunch of bottles, vials, and boxes of all kinds jump out all at once and set themselves in front of us like a magic exhibition. “But anyway, we mostly just want feedback. We’re planning to open our own joke shop after we graduate and we want everything to be right.”

“Huh,” I never would’ve guessed. When he mentioned their “inventions” I instantly assumed he was talking about crafts or something. I know Fred and George love to get under people’s skin with their little pranks, but I never thought that they loved pranking so much they wanted to build a living around it. But then again, we’ve never been close, so all I know about them is what I've seen back at the castle, which I also tend to avoid.

As I go over the products in silence, my eyes get drawn to the sight of a small brown box. It doesn’t have a label or a logo or any eye-catching design, but it has COMB-A-CHAMELEON handwritten on it and that’s enough to get me intrigued. I look back at him, asking for his permission, and when he motions for me to go on with his hand, I grab it. Inside I can only find an ordinary-looking hairbrush, which throws me off because I was expecting something more, I don’t know, magical? I guess my confusion is clear because Fred laughs lightly while I just keep staring. “Would you like to try it out?” He asks.

I look up at him warily, looking for any signs of malice, but all I can find is a redheaded boy who seems excited by the idea of me using one of his products. “I don’t know if I should…”

“I can promise you that It’s nothing too bad.”

“You don’t strike me as trustworthy when it comes to these things.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Fred admits. “But I’m telling the truth this time, I promise. Go ahead, try it.”

I almost back down from it but I can’t help feeling bad just thinking about it. Fred looks like a kid who attempted to make breakfast by himself and is waiting for his mom to eat it. So I grab the brush and, hesitantly, I start combing my hair. A few brushes are enough to do the trick. Soon enough, I feel some tugging happening around my head. The process lasts a few seconds and then I feel the weight of my hair go down, but it feels lighter. Fred rubs his chin while he stares at me. I have no idea how I look but he nods in approval. “Alright,” He motions toward the mirror hanging from the door. “Go ahead and take a look.”

When I turn to look, I gasp. I expect my hair, which I had let fall down my back in curls earlier, to look like a bird’s nest by the time I’m done, but much to my surprise it is now pulled back into a nice long braid. “Fred,” I run my fingers through it. “This is very impressive! And you guys came up with this from scratch?”

“Yup. Every single one of them.” He sounds proud of himself and his brother. And he should be.

“What else do you have?”

“Oh, tons of stuff,” He reaches and grabs another box, the same color but slightly bigger. This one says SKIVING SNACKBOX in big bold letters and when he opens it there's a ton of what looks like individually wrapped pieces of candy. Fred takes a single piece and removes the wrapping. One side is an orange color while the other one is purple. “This is our most tested product so far. When you eat the orange half of the candy you start to feel ill—nothing too bad, just enough to get you out of class—and then once you’re finally out, you take the purple half and you feel better again, ready to enjoy your free time. Brilliant, I know.”

“And you’re aware that this leaves a horrible example for younger generations, right?”

“Yeah, we hope so,” He rubs his palms together and it reminds me of a cheesy villainous moment. Then, he offers me the open candy in his hand. “Wanna try it out?”

I roll my eyes and push his hand away. “I can’t believe that you and your brother are throwing your talent away by making… these.”

“Wait, did I just hear a compliment in between all of that?” Fred leans close with a hand behind his ear, pretending to be bad at hearing.

My eyes roll for a second time because this boy just loves to make my eyes… nevermind. “All I’m saying is that maybe you should focus your attention on creating something more… useful?”

Fred pretends to look offended. “This is useful! Why spend so many hours in class when you can be using the time to do more important things, like playing games or sleeping?”

“Of course,” I say sarcastically. “It’s not like we need education or anything,” I then spot a bigger box, this one a bright pink color, and point to it. “What’s that?”

When he sees what I’m pointing at, he smirks at me. “Those are our WonderWitch products. They come in a variety; we have things like pimple vanishers to love potions.”

I quirk a brow. “Love potions?”

“The best love potions around,” He says, a hint of a smirk on his lips as he leans against his desk. “Although I don’t think you really need one.”

I nearly gape at him. “What do you mean?”

Fred shrugs. “I think Malfoy may already have the hots for you. I see the way he looks at you.”

“Excuse me?!” In what world does Draco Malfoy like me? And in what world would I ever reciprocate those same feelings?

“I’m joking,” Fred chuckles at my mortified expression. “But I’m sure there are guys at the school who are head over heels for you.”

I scoff. “I doubt it.”

He stares down at me, and I swear we’re standing closer to each other than before. “I wouldn’t.”

I blink a few times. I want to say something back but I do not know what. What do you even say to that? Luckily, Mrs. Weasley’s voice coming from downstairs, announcing that dinner is ready, fills in the blank space and I take the opportunity to close the subject. “We should go.”

We exit the twins’ bedroom but before we can head down the stairs, I halt my steps. “Wait,” I point to the other door. “You never told me whose room that is.”

Fred turns to look at it. “Oh,” Something flashes across his expression and I’m unsure what it is. “No one’s. Come on, Mom’s waiting.”

He keeps walking and, although I find his reaction odd, I follow him without saying anything else.

***

I have never been close to my family. Due to our differing ideals, my parents and I always end every single conversation with an argument, so we try to speak to each other as little as possible. My brother is kind of walking along the same path, unfortunately, and although he’s a bit more tolerable, a lot of times it still feels like I’m talking to a wall. Dinner, specifically, has always been a horrible time, because I get to sit there and listen to them complain about muggle-borns, support the Ministry and its lies, praise my brother for following their footsteps, and criticize me for never wanting to be like them.

With the Weasleys, it feels completely different. It feels nice and comfortable, and the topic of blood status is not brought up once. Their dynamic feels so natural and like how a true family should be. Mrs. Weasley scolds her children every five minutes but you can tell that she loves them more than anything else. She also likes to insist on me grabbing more servings, and if my stomach was bottomless I’d probably eat every single thing on the table. Mr. Weasley is fascinated by my knowledge of the muggle world and how it functions, although It’s mostly just things I’ve learned from Muggle Studies. Contrary to what I’ve always thought of her, Ginny is pretty cool. She and I share similar tastes and her impressions are hilarious and spot on. Ron is a bit awkward and is mostly just eating and talking to Harry Potter, who happens to be staying over for spring break, but now and then he asks me a question if he’s interested enough in what I’m saying. The twins get in trouble several times, one of them being when they decided to sneak a fake spider into Ron’s plate, which made him nearly faint. And although I’ve been acting like a total bitch to him for so long, Fred makes sure that I don’t feel left out, often trying to include me in the conversation or playfully teasing me in a way. But I find that I don’t mind it; It’s the most fun I’ve had in a while.

After we’re done with dinner, I am forced to decline Ginny’s offer to go flying for a bit because we still have to work on the potion, which I had almost forgotten about by the time Mrs. Weasley brought in dessert, but I tell her that we can try and get together another time to do so. Fred and I head directly back to his room so we can get it over with. I'm surprised to discover that Fred works really well as a team when he actually commits to it. “Can I ask you a question?” I ask him while I add and stir Powdered Moonstone into the cauldron.

He thinks about it but not for long. “Only if I can ask one back.”

Of course, there’s always a catch with him. “Okay, whatever,” I say defeatedly. “Whose room is the one across from yours?”

Fred sighs as his usual playful demeanor suddenly drops for a moment, but he tries to hide the fact that the question has any effect on him as he helps me slice Adder's Fork. “It’s Percy’s, my older brother,” He finally answers. “He kind of doesn’t live here anymore.”

“Did something happen?” I ask without thinking. And then I realize how nosy I sounded. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked, It’s none of my business—”

“No, I don’t mind,” He shakes his head. He’s being genuine. “You know about the whole thing happening with Harry and the Ministry of Magic, right?”

“About You-Know-Who coming back and the Ministry feeding lies to everyone because they’re cowards?”

Fred nods. “Pretty much. Well, Percy is siding with the Ministry because he's a git, and he and Dad had a very bad argument about it a few weeks ago. Then he just left and we haven’t heard from him since.”

“Oh, wow,” I say with wide eyes. “That must’ve been hard for all of you.”

“Especially for mom. She’s cried every single day after he left.”

There’s a hint of sadness in his tone that I’ve never heard from him before and I can’t shake away the uncomfortable feeling I get from it. I guess I’ve never thought of Fred Weasley as someone who gets sad now and then, who maybe even cries when he’s upset, but at the end of the day, he’s still human just like me. “I’m so sorry.” I can’t help but say.

“You don’t have to be,” Fred says, giving me a reassuring smile. “But anyway, now It’s my turn,” His tone changes drastically back to its typical self. “Why didn’t you want me to visit your house? Because I saw how tense you got when I mentioned it.”

“Simple,” I slightly raise the heat on the cauldron after Fred drops the Adder’s Fork into the mixture. “My family is not very pleasant to be around with.”

“I guess I kind of figured. Are they…?”

“Blood supremacists? Yes,” I answer. “The worst kind possible. That’s why as soon as I graduate I want to find my own place and cut all ties with them immediately. They know I want to, and they don’t care, either.”

Fred remains silent for a moment while he adds the Jobberknoll Feathers. “I didn't know that.”

I shrug. “I guess I've grown used to it. I've had to put up with them my whole life, but I'm glad I'll soon have the chance to go my own way.”

“Another question,” He says, almost like he’s asking permission to do so, but he doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Are your parents Death Eaters?”

The question stings, and I consider lying for a quick moment, but I slowly nod.

Fred’s eyes grow big. “Bloody hell.”

“Yup,” I say. It’s a conversation I don’t want to have with anyone but he would’ve found out eventually. It’s a shock he didn't know about it already. “That's why people tend to have a bad image of me once they find out. It's bad enough that I'm in Slytherin, people already think I'm a delinquent just by that alone. And that’s why I rather just not talk about my family.”

The room goes quiet for a second while I stir the potion clockwise. Then, Fred says, “Well, congrats. You’ve actually made me feel bad.”

“What for?”

“Before getting to know you better, I didn't like you for the mere fact that I thought you were an uptight Slytherin, just because you seemed to dislike mine and George’s pranks,” He explains.

I chuckle, reminiscing about the ongoing war between both of our Houses and all the times Fred and George managed to piss us off. “Hey, I don’t hold it against you. You’re not the only one. Besides, I didn’t like you either, so we’re even.”

Fred smirks. “Didn’t?”

“I guess you’re not… as bad as I thought,” I confess, avoiding his eyes.

“Huh,” He says. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me.”

***

When I leave the Burrow, there’s a hollow feeling in my chest. As soon as I’m greeted by the cold presence of my parents back at the manor, I realize how long I’ve always longed for something like what I experienced tonight. In a single day the Weasleys made me feel like I'd been a part of their family forever, something my own family has yet to accomplish.

The Easter break goes by way too slowly, and for me that’s not necessarily a good thing. I spend a lot of alone time at the manor, although sometimes I meet up with Daphne, and on the second to last day, I go back to the Burrow one more time because there is still one important step to complete in the brewing process, which is to get the potion to absorb moonlight on the night of the full moon. But we manage to do it without trouble, although, by the time I'm back at the manor, there is something deep down still troubling me.

When we’re finally back at Hogwarts, Fred finds me to test out the potion the day before we have to show it in class, and we go all the way up to the Astronomy Tower. “Okay,” Fred says as soon as we are all settled in. “You got the good stuff?”

I grab my bag and take out the the vial of colorless liquid. It might as well be water, exactly as it should be. The two of us observe the Veritaserum with pride. I reach into the bag again and take out a glass dropper I’d borrowed from Daphne while he opens the vial. “So, who goes first?” Fred asks.

I purse my lips in thought. “What if we drink it at the same time and then we just take turns asking each other a question?”

“Nice. Rock paper scissors to see who gets to ask first?”

We tie for two rounds straight before he beats me with rock. I hand him the dropper and he squeezes some of the liquid into it. “Remember, three drops should be enough for it to work,” I remind him.

He nods. He passes the dropper back to me when he’s done and I take the three drops. There’s no smell and no taste, either, which is better than it being disgusting. I wait for something to happen, any indication that the serum has started taking effect, but I don’t feel any different. Fred seems to feel the same. “So… how do we know if It’s working?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Ask me a question, I guess.”

“Uhh… what’s your favorite color?”

“Seriously?” Fred holds his hands up in defense and I sigh and answer anyway. “Yellow.”

He raises a brow, eyeing me carefully. “Is that true?”

“It is.”

“Okay, then maybe It’s working! Now you ask me something.”

I try to think of something else, something that a guy like him usually lies about. “Did you do your homework during Spring break?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What were you doing in the meantime?”

“George and I were busy perfecting some of our products,” Fred answers. I don’t even have to question if It’s true. “Speaking of, who do you think is the cuter twin?”

“You, of course,” I say, and then I cover my mouth, but It’s too late. That’s far from what I wanted to say but I guess the serum really is working now. Fred is grinning from ear to ear without a care in the world, and he’s clearly enjoying this. Before he can say anything, I ask the first thing that comes to mind. “What do you really think about me?”

He blinks at me, taken aback, but he answers without stuttering. “Well, at first, I thought you were just another annoying, hateful Slytherin—cute, but hateful. But then I realized that you're probably the coolest girl I've ever met.”

Fred looks like he just got out of a trance and he doesn’t remember anything about the last few seconds. I smile in satisfaction. He thinks he has an advantage on this little “game” but he seems to forget that we’re both in it. I can pull a secret from him just as easily. “Interesting,” I comment. “You didn't mention thinking I was cute earlier.”

“Are you trying to start something here?” He asks.

I shake my head. “I think you started it a long time ago.”

“Okay, then,” He folds his arms across his chest. “Do you regret kissing me that night?”

I try to stop myself from talking but It’s useless. Don’t answer him. “No. I don’t think I ever did.”

Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up shut up!

“I knew it,” Fred says, stepping closer. My back makes contact with the nearest wall but neither of us pulls away. “I knew that wasn’t for nothing.”

I ignore the way his eyes move down to my lips. “Did you like it when I kissed you?”

“Yes. I still think about it to this day,” He confesses shamelessly. “If you don’t regret kissing me, does that mean that you have feelings for me?”

I have gotten to know more about Fred Weasley than I had ever imagined. I’ve been to his house, I’ve met his family, I’ve seen how he is outside of school… “I do,” I tell him, locking my gaze with his. “I like you.”

There’s a brief moment of silence in which the two of us just stare at each other, indulging in what I just said. Maybe I wasn’t thinking of confessing my feelings today but It’s out now. I could Obliviate him so he forgets any of this ever happened but I… I don’t want to. And I don’t think he wants either with the way he wraps an arm around my waist and connects his lips with mine.

With his free hand, Fred brings me as close to him as humanly possible and tangles it in my hair. This kiss feels so different than the first one; I was cold, wet, terrified, and not in a good state of mind when we kissed that night, and he was not expecting me to do that. But this time we’re both warm, needy, and desperate, and I’m tired of fighting it. I’m tired of fighting him. I want him. “Good,” Fred pulls away, his voice breathless, and my heart jumps. “Because I like you, too.”

I grab him by the tie and kiss him again, and he responds right away. He holds me like I’m the most precious thing to him, like he needs me more than anything, and it makes me want him even more. I tug at his hair and he groans softly, coaxing his tongue with mine as soon as I have access. We get so caught up in each other that I begin to forget where we are; my vision and all of my senses are invaded by a tall ginger boy who just couldn’t leave me alone in the first place. And I’m so glad he didn’t.

I pull away and Fred moves to kiss my cheek and then my jawline. My heart flutters in the best way. “How long have you liked me?” I ask him while I wrap my arms around his neck.

“I think I’ve been attracted to you for a long time but when you really had me in a chokehold was when you nearly succeeded in taking the Cup from us,” Fred says. There’s a small smirk tugging at his lips. “I was so impressed by you, and then when you kissed me…” He makes a gesture as if he’s been shot through the heart. I fail to hold back my laughter. “I’ve been hooked ever since.”

I bite my lip, playing with a strand of my hair. “Anything else you want to tell me?”

“Yes, actually, there is,” I initially expect a joke or a silly comment, but once again Fred Weasley manages to take me by surprise. “If you ever need a place to stay after you graduate, do not hesitate to tell me because I’m sure mom would love to have you staying over.”

My eyebrows raise and my eyes go wide. “What?”

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “I was just—you were talking about it the other day and I-I wanted you to have the option, you know, just in case…”

“Fred Weasley, are you messing with me?” I raise my fist, ready to hit his arm.

Fred grabs my wrist gently and lowers it out of sight. He’s still smiling down at me like he’s amused. “I swear that I will talk to my mom about it if you ever need me to. You can use Percy’s room or mine and George’s room if we move out.”

That’s the nicest thing anyone could ever do for me. I never thought anyone would; aside from Fred, Daphne is the only person who shows any concern over me. I know she would have no problem with me staying with her after graduation but I also know she’s leaving immediately after to live in Paris. My eyes well up with tears but I fight to keep them in. “That would be nice,” My voice is slightly shaky, but steady. “Thank you,”

A single tear escapes but Fred gently wipes it away. “You’re very welcome.”

He leans down to peck my lips. I grin in content. “Do you want to go get dinner?”

“Oh, you’re inviting me out to eat?” He wiggles his eyebrows and I hit his arm playfully. I fight back a smile.

We gather our things and head down to the Great Hall. Fred holds my hand the entire way. I must admit that it feels nice to not fight back my feelings and just enjoy my alone times with Fred, even if It's something as simple as moving from one place to another. When we're approaching the large doors, I feel Fred’s fingers abandoning mine. I look up at him and, once I see the look on his face, I realize why he does it: he thinks I don’t want to be seen with him. And, yes, maybe if Fred Weasley went to grab my hand a few weeks ago I would probably bite it off but if he doesn’t hold it now I will most definitely cry. When he’s about to turn his head, I reach to grab his hand, seeing and feeling him jump under my touch. He stares at our linked hands like he cannot believe what he’s seeing and—is that a blush tinting his cheeks? I crane my neck up and smile at him. After allowing myself to know him a little better, I’ve discovered that I love catching him off guard more than anything. It shows a whole different side of him, and It’s very attractive.

We open the giant doors to the Great Hall after Fred recovers and we walk in. A few heads turn in our direction; some of them don’t think anything interesting is going on so they go back to their plates, while others stare curiously. A few Gryffindors whisper while George and Lee Jordan smirk our way. The Slytherin table cannot help but be a bit more obvious, murmuring stuff to each other that I’m sure is nothing good and sneering at the both of us as Fred leans in close. “I think you’re getting banned from Slytherin, but don’t worry, I’m sure Gryffindor could take you in.”

I chuckle as I roll my eyes. “They’ll get over it. Anyway, I don’t care what they say. Talk to you later?”

“Of course,” Fred says.

I go to walk away but he grabs my chin and before I can ask him what he’s doing he leans down to plant a quick kiss on my lips. He walks away, leaving me standing there frozen for a moment, and before he reaches his spot on the Gryffindor table he turns his head and winks at me. That bastard, I think as I shake my head. He did that on purpose!

When I finally reach my table I feel the daggers that my housemates are throwing at me piercing through my skull, but I focus on the beaming girl sitting across from me. I sigh as I grab my empty plate and begin serving myself. “Go on. Say whatever you have to say.”

“I told you!” She bursts. “I told you there was something there, and I told you that he liked you, and I certainly knew that you were just acting stupid. You liked him, too! You stupid, stupid bitch—”

“No insults, please.”

“But you are a stupid bitch, are you or are you not?”

“I can't say I'm not.”

“Staining the name of Slytherin yet again, (L/N)?” Draco calls from the other side of the table. “You shouldn’t even be carrying your family’s last name. It’s too big of an honor for a blood traitor like you.”

A few Slytherin laugh in agreement. “Should she even be allowed to sit with us? I bet Weasley germs are spreading around our table already.” Pansy Parkinson grimaces.

“Well, the Parkinson germs have been spreading for years, haven’t they?” I snap back at her.

“Yeah, and no one’s said anything about it,” Daphne adds, shrugging innocently.

Pansy glares at the both of us but does not say anything else. When she turns back to her group, Daphne rolls her eyes. “The only con about all of this is that you have to put up with stuff like that.”

“That’s true,” I agree. “But I honestly don’t care.”

I turn to look at the Gryffindor table, and automatically my eyes find Fred’s figure. He’s already looking in my direction and when our eyes meet we smile. Okay, yes, I do like him. I like him a lot.

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en-lov · 2 months ago

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love in the air

sunghoon x fem!reader ┋ cw: mean boy sunghoon, angst, lowercase intended, 500-1k wc, not proofread (let me know if i missed something!)

there was no doubt that slytherin and gryffindor were rivals, as for you and sunghoon it was no different. the animosity between the two of you had been brewing since the first match of the season. slytherin versus gryffindor. it had been a brutal game, with both sides playing their hearts out, but in the end, slytherin had won by a single point. sunghoon had made sure to rub it in every chance he got. he wasn’t content with just winning; he needed to make you feel like a failure for losing.

“maybe if you spent more time practicing and less time talking, you might actually score next time,” he’d sneered at you in the corridor a few days after the match. his words had stung, but you’d fired back with equal venom, refusing to let him see how much his taunts hurt.

“maybe if you weren’t so full of yourself, you wouldn’t need to compensate by being a jerk,” you’d shot back, earning a cold, disdainful smirk from him. it was a battle of wills, each of you refusing to back down.

as the season went on, the tension between you and sunghoon only grew. every time gryffindor and slytherin faced off, it felt like a personal grudge match. your teammates noticed it too, and they’d often tease you about it, suggesting that maybe the reason you and sunghoon were so hostile was because there was something more beneath the surface. you’d always laugh it off, insisting that there was no way you could ever like someone as insufferable as him.

but then, during the final match of the season, something changed.

it was gryffindor versus slytherin again, and the stakes were higher than ever. the quidditch cup was on the line, and both teams were determined to win. the match was intense, with both sides fighting tooth and nail for every point. you were in the zone, flying faster and harder than you ever had before. nothing mattered except the game.

then, in a split second, everything went wrong. you’d been diving for the quaffle, but another player collided with you mid-air, knocking you off course. you lost your grip and started to fall. the world spun around you, and for a terrifying moment, you thought you were going to hit the ground.

but before you could, a strong hand grabbed your arm, yanking you back onto your broomstick. you looked up, dazed, and found yourself staring into sunghoon’s dark eyes. he was glaring at you, but there was something else in his expression too—something you couldn’t quite place.

“watch where you’re going, idiot,” he snapped, but there was an edge of concern in his voice that threw you off. before you could respond, he let go of your arm and zoomed off, leaving you hovering in place, stunned.

after the match, which gryffindor narrowly won, you couldn’t stop thinking about that moment. sunghoon had saved you. he didn’t have to, but he did. it didn’t make sense. he hated you, didn’t he?

the question gnawed at you for days, and eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. you confronted him in the hallway, determined to get some answers.

“why did you save me?” you demanded, blocking his path.

sunghoon rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. “what are you talking about?”

“during the match. you didn’t have to catch me, but you did. why?”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “i don’t know. it was just instinct. maybe i didn’t want to win that way. does it matter?”

“it matters to me,” you insisted, refusing to back down.

for a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. then, to your surprise, he softened, just a little. “look, just because i’m competitive doesn’t mean i want you to get hurt, alright? we might be on opposite teams, but that doesn’t mean i want you dead.”

the admission caught you off guard, and for the first time, you saw something other than arrogance in his eyes. there was vulnerability there, buried deep, but it was there. maybe he wasn’t as heartless as he wanted everyone to believe.

“so, you don’t hate me?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

sunghoon scoffed, but there was no real malice in it. “hate’s a strong word. i just… you’re annoying, alright? always so stubborn and determined. but i guess i can respect that.”

you blinked, not sure what to say. this was the closest thing to a compliment you’d ever gotten from him.

“you’re not so bad yourself,” you finally muttered, feeling a strange warmth in your chest. it was the first time you’d ever admitted it, even to yourself, but maybe—just maybe—there was something more between you and sunghoon than just rivalry.

he smirked at your words, but this time, it wasn’t mocking. “don’t go getting soft on me, gryffindor. we’re still enemies on the pitch.”

“we’ll see about that,” you shot back, a small smile tugging at your lips.

and for the first time, sunghoon didn’t respond with a sneer or a sharp retort. instead, he just looked at you, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual, before he turned and walked away.

as you watched him go, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, the line between enemies and something more had started to blur.

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nottyoursbutmine · 3 months ago

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cruel summer | t.n

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff soulmate reader

the one where nott and Y/N never wanted a soulmate. so why can’t they stop thinking about each other after they agree to never talk about it again?

this is my first writing and you can totally tell. it’s super long for no reason so pls be nice. it has 3 OC in hufflepuff. totally wrote this overnight so I rushed the ending can you tell?

cruel summer - taylor swift

—

You’re listening to your best friend, Sophia, as you’re walking towards the Great Hall. For the past two weeks she has been ranting about the same thing, Blaise Zabini, her soulmate.

As she’s going on about the colors of trees, our uniforms, and flowers you can’t help but space off. They met while being paired up during Potions and spoke their first soulmate words to each other. She has always wanted to meet her soulmate and ever since then, she’s been happier than ever.

You have never wanted to meet your soulmate. The thought of being trapped down and having children will not be your future.

“Are you even listening to me?” Sophia asks.

“Oh, um…of course I was, Blaise is perfect, the sky is magical?” You say with uncertainty. You’re arriving at the Great Hall and approach your table to sit down.

She gives you a look and says, “No, you know exactly what I was saying…please Y/N!”

“Can I just ask why is this so important to you? I mean, it’s not as if we would have anything in common. Slytherin do not make friends with Hufflepuffs,” you say with a straight face. Compared to her always happy demeanor, you were the type of girl who looked at the glass half empty. Not to say you weren’t kind to everyone you met, but you were a realist.

“I have been trying to introduce you to Blaises’ friends since we met… please?” As she sits across from you at the table, she gives you her biggest smile, one that you can never say no to.

As you pick at your food, you finally give in. “Okay, fine but we have to invite the rest of the girls.”

She squeals, leans over the table and gives you a hug. You’ve never been one for physical contact but you’ve been friends with Sophia since diapers, so you do your best and pat her back.

You’re sitting on your bed with your curtains drawn staring at the words on your wrist, thinking about the power they hold. Your entire future is determined by your first words with a stranger. The words were harsh, feeding into your whole ‘wanting to be alone,’ thing. You wonder what their words say.

Seeing colors is something you have also always wondered about. What are the colors of your eyes and hair? What is the color green and why does it make nature look so beautiful? What about flowers? And the color of your clothes?

However, does spending forever with someone you didn’t get to choose sound worth it? You have heard stories of colors fading for people who have lost their soulmate or chosen to be alone, you wonder if that’s true.

You hear the door burst open and Sophia say, “Okay, get ready everyone! We’re going to the Slytherin common room.”

You pull your curtains back, then look at Violet and Ariana, Violet lets out a small laugh from her bed and says “What?”

“Yup! We are meeting Blaise, Riddle, Nott, Berkshire, and Malfoy in 1 hour,” Sophia says, “so you all better start getting ready.”

You all get up with a groan as you get up and all go into the bathroom to get ready. You decide to put on a warm sweatshirt/sweats set because it’s cold out and blowout your hair. You exit the bathroom and all make your way out of the Hufflepuff house.

Walking to the Slytherin common room seemed faster than it should have been. Sophia talked most of the way, assuring us that this will be fun. She always seemed to be the positive one in our group. She states that the guys are nicer in person and only look scary from afar or something like that.

As you get closer you see Zabini waiting outside. Sophia walked towards Blaise, greeting him with a kiss. “Blaise, these are my friends, Violet, Ariana and Y/N.”

He shakes Violet’s and Ariana’s hand, trying to make a good first impression on his soulmates friends and as he extends his hand towards you and Sophia stops him, “Y/N doesn’t touch.”

You feel your heart get warm, you didn’t know how you were going to get out of that awkward situation. She knows you so well, you just give her a small smile as a thank you.

He just chuckles and says, “Exactly like someone else I know. Okay, c’mon the guys are inside.” As you walk in you can’t help but look around, even though you can’t see colors, the Slytherin common room has always been famously talked about and you wanted to know what the fuss was about.

You see Berkshire sitting on an armchair, reading a book. Malfoy is sitting on the floor with his back to the couch and he’s doing homework on the table. Riddle laying on a couch and Nott laying on the couch across from him talking you think about Herbology.

“Girls, these are the guys, right there is Malfoy. Right there is Riddle, over there is Nott, and there is Berkshire.” Zabini says pointing over at them without looking, without caring. It made you internally laugh.

Your eyes glaze over the boys and you just give them a smile. The girls give the boys their biggest smile and say hello, Ariana even goes as far as to give her famous flirtatious hugs. Not that you are judging, these guys are attractive.

Nott and Riddle sit down on the couches to make room for you girls. You sit next at the end of the couch to the left of Violet, who’s in the middle sitting next to Riddle. Ariana is sitting across from you, to the right of Sophia. Sophia is sitting next to Zabini, who’s finally sitting next to Nott at the very left. Berkshire is hadn’t moved from his place in the arm chair and Malfoy had collected his homework, but was still sitting on the floor.

The usual topics come by, grades, hate for the teachers, holidays, and the usual family drama. “Okay let’s get real, has everyone here met their soulmate?” Ariana asks.

Berkshire begins to rant about his soulmate, one that everyone knew he had. It was nice to hear him say those sweet words about her.

Malfoy rolls his eyes and says, “Doesn’t everyone already know the answer to this question? It’s not as if this school doesn’t spread the word as soon as it happens.”

Riddle laughs looking over at him, “You’re just upset because Granger is mad at you right now.”

“I don’t know why you don’t go apologize to her like I’ve been saying, staying here isn’t going to help her forgive you,” Berkshire says.

“He’s right, you need to man up and go to her dorm,” Nott speaks up, “if you don’t she’ll be pissed forever man.”

Malfoy looks like he wants to kill all his friends as he gets up and storms out of the common room, assumingely on his way to the Gryffindor house.

Malfoy, Berkshire, and Zabini are the only ones in the group who have found their soulmates, leaving Riddle and Nott to find theirs.

As everyone but Nott and you answer the question, the tension shifts. “So Y/L/N, have you found your soulmate?” Riddle asks, a hint of suggestiveness in his voice.

All eyes fall on you, “Um...No, I haven’t, but I don’t want to either, so…” you say trailing off.

“You don’t want to? Sounds familiar. Can we ask why you don’t want to?” He pries while glancing to the side, at something or someone. You’re not sure if you imagine it but everyone leans in closer, except for Nott of course, who’s sitting against the couch, eyes not leaving you.

“Well, let’s just say, I’m not going to let some words, colors, and a stranger determine a future I have already envisioned for myself, one that does not have a soulmate,” you have the straightest face and you’re not sure if it’s just your natural face or if you’re just annoyed by all these questions.

The boys sit in silence as they all give each other looks to your answer, however Nott is just staring at you and for some reason you’re afraid to look his way.

It seems like the night has ended with what you said and you decide you need to leave to room immediately. “Okay well, if that’s all I’m going now…I have to go to the library to finish my homework.”

Violet and Ariana follow you out, Sophia stays behind to spend more time with Zabini. As you’re walking you feel eyes burning into the back of your head.

Heading back to your common room from the library alone before curfew was a usual trip for you. The dark, empty corridor never scared you, it actually brought you peace. Ariana was the only one who preferred to study with you, but today she wanted to rest.

Fever dream high in the quiet of the night

While turning a corner you trip over something you don’t see, hands wrap around torso preventing you from falling. You drop your books and loose papers on the ground. You immediately push yourself away from the person holding you up.

It’s so dark out, you can’t see the tall figure, however, as you bend over to pick up everything you dropped, his shoes look expensive.

And so you do what you do best, apologize,“Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? Than-”

You feel the person slightly freeze but not enough for you to process it, “My god, what the hell is wrong with you?”

Now it’s your turn to freeze. You’re afraid to look up, you’re afraid to even move. All of a sudden everything is different, you understand what Sophia means when she says the lights are yellow and actually do light up the night. You look at your clothes and see your yellow set. Everything yellow.

You’re not even sure why but you thought you had more time to find them. You’ve collected all your things and you’re still there staring at the ground. How are you supposed to tell this guy you’re not interested?

As you stand up, you stare into the eyes of Theodore Nott and you’re not sure what you feel. His eyes are so brown, his hair is so brown and he looks so attractive in his Slytherin uniform.

You’re both just standing staring at each other and you’re not sure what to say to him. Should you rip the bandaid off?

“Okay so, I don’t want you and you don’t want me, right? Let’s just pretend this never happened,” he has the straightest face ever.

You’re grateful he said it first so you didn’t have to but you’re not sure why you’re heart skipped a beat, almost like his words hurt you. “Okay.”

You’re not sure what else to say and you’re also not sure why your heart is now beating so hard in your chest. The colors don’t even matter anymore, what only matters to you now is that he’s in front of you and that he was just in front of you a few hours earlier, yet you never spoke one word to each other.

You thought the conversation was over, you thought he would walk away. He clears his throat, “Okay well then, let’s shake on it,” he says as he extends his hand out to you without looking away from your eyes.

You look at his hand and in a beat place your hand in his, slowly shaking it. “So we agree to not tell anyone,” looking back in his eyes. Your heart starts beating faster and your mind starts racing. You pull your hand back and say, “Goodbye then,” you walk away and don’t look back.

Ariana wakes you up the next morning, saying something about almost being late for breakfast.

As you get up, enter the bathroom to get ready and put your uniform on, you curl your hair and put it in a ponytail with side pieces out.

As you exit the bathroom you see Sophia sitting on her bed. “What do you all say about sitting with Blaise and the boys for breakfast this morning?” she says with a grin.

Ariana claps her hands together, jumping up and down, “That would be so fun. Last night was so fun!” Throughout the night she became good friends with the boys by gossiping about the teachers and student drama in the school.

Violet gives Sophia a small smile, “I think that would be nice.”

All eyes turn to me, I roll eyes in sarcasm, “Okay, let’s just go or all the blueberry muffins will be gone and you know how I feel about that.”

You follow Sophia to the Slytherin table and as the boys see you all approach, you see Zabini say something to them, making them scoot over. Sophia casually sits next to Zabini at the end of the table. You sit down first, scooting over for Ariana and Violet. Riddle is to your right, Nott directly across from you, and Violet to your left.

You immediately begin looking around for a blueberry muffin but don’t see one, the only one you see is on Notts plate. So you go for the second best option, banana bread.

“Aw we were too late? I’m sorry hun. Tomorrow will be better,” Sophia says with her positive attitude. You give her a smile and try to not continue the conversation.

“Late for what?” Riddle asks with a mouth full of food.

“Nothi-”

“Y/N loves her blueberry muffin for breakfast,” Violet says as if it’s the biggest secret in the school. You shrug because it’s true, there’s nothing better to start your day off with.

“Here then.” Nott holds out his plate offering you his muffin. The guys give him a look as if he just told them he’s joining the circus.

“No, it’s yours,” you say, giving him the exact same look.

He pushes the plate closer to you, “Take the damn muffin if you’re going to be complaining about it.”

The energy has completely changed, “Woah man, what the hell?” Berkshire says, sitting to Notts left.

Your eyes narrow at him, push the plate away and in your calmest voice say, “I didn’t complain about any damn thing, you’re getting hysterical Nott. Why don’t you calm down?”

And with that, he storms out of the Great Hall leaving his friends to question exactly what happened.

You’re left staring at where he was sitting, hurt in your chest but you both made this decision. And if you bleed he’ll be the last to know.

It’s been two weeks since you have found Nott, two weeks since you’ve been trying your best to avoid him, and two weeks since you’ve been failing at it.

You’re sitting in the library with Cedric working on your project. You’ve been working for hours and for hours Nott and Berkshire have been sitting in your line of view doing ‘homework.’ You turn back to Cedric, this grade is more important than some boy.

For some reason, Nott can’t look away from you. His mind is going crazy knowing you’re avoiding him. He’s the one who made this decision, why can’t he get you off his mind?

He thinks about the first words you spoke to each other and regrets being so harsh towards you, he wonders if you hate him for that. He wonders if the words on your skin have taunted you forever and if that’s truly why you don’t want a soulmate.

Colors haven’t faded for him, probably because he keeps following you, trying to be close to you. The color of your hair and eyes, your after school outfits. Your smile and the way you tilt your head back when you laugh. He cannot look away from you.

Berkshire realizes Nott isn’t paying attention to him at all, turning around to see what he’s staring at. “Merlin, is she your soulmate or something?”

Notts heart skips a beat, “What are you talking about? O-Of course she’s not,” trying his best to play it off.

Berkshire gives Nott a look, “You constantly follow her around, you threatened Cedric to not make a move even though he has a soulmate, you always save a blueberry muffin at breakfast in case she sits with us, you always-”

“Are you a detective or something?” Nott says narrowing his eyes.

“Listen, I just think that, if you have something to say…you should say it before it’s too late. I should go, I’m meeting Olivia but…think about it,” he says as he gets up leaving to meet his soulmate, a glint in his eyes.

“Wait,” Nott stops Berkshire, “Don’t tell anyone.”

“I promise.”

As he sits there waiting for you to finish with Cedric, the words Berkshire said can’t leave his mind. Cedric’s soulmate walks up to the table with a smile greeting Y/N, his arrival makes Cedric get up and says goodbye to you.

Nott takes this opportunity to walk up to your table and simply sit down across from you, taking Cedric’s former seat. You simply stare at him, not knowing what to say. His eyes are so brown, his hair looks so soft, and his sweater looks so warm you just want to reach over and feel every part of him.

You’re both staring at each other in silence, both afraid to make the first move, your heart is beating so fast and you can’t think of a single thing to say to him.

He takes a deep breath, looks in your eyes and says, “I know you probably don’t want to talk to me right now but I can’t stop thinking about you and colors are brighter when you’re in the room, I need to see your smile and hear your laugh everyday or else I- I can’t think about anything else and you seem so okay but I-”

To say you’re in shock is an understatement, you’re afraid to open your mouth unsure of what will come out. You reach over the table and hold his hand in an attempt to calm him down, “I’m not okay,” you say looking down at your hands as he starts drawing circles, “I think about you all the time, it’s exhausting.”

“I never thought finding my soulmate would feel like this, I never thought choosing my own path would be the wrong option.” You give him your biggest smile and he stares at you with a glint in his eyes you’ve never seen before. “So, how should we go on about this? Do we tell everyone now?”

You let out a nervous chuckle, “How about we start to get to know each other first?”

“I already know everything about you. You love blueberry muffins, cats, you don’t have a favorite flower because they’re too hard to choose from, you don’t drink your drink until after you finish eating, you hate people who chew with their mouth open, you-”

“Okay! Wow, you really do know me. Have you been purposefully following me?” You say in a teasing tone, your heart warming at the fact that your soulmate knows you, the real you.

You see his cheeks heat up and his head lower, “What? No! Uh-no, I-”

“Nott,” you say pulling your hands back from his, giving him a small smile, “I’m just joking around.”

He grabs your hands back pulling them into his, the warmth of his hands helping with the cold of the library. “It’s Theo.”

Your cheeks warm up, “It’s Y/N.”

It’s been a week since the conversation in the library and having a soulmate was better than you have ever heard. Theo and you haven’t gone further than holding hands in secret and sharing pecks on the cheeks and the corner of each other’s mouth. It has been excruciating holding back from kissing him, but you want him to make the first move.

For the past week, you woke up early in the morning to meet with Theo before breakfast. You told your friends you went to the library to get some extra study hours in. For some reason, they never questioned you and you never questioned that.

They don’t know you meet Theo in either The Room of Requirement or an empty classroom and just talk about anything and everything. Before it was blueberry muffins and now this is the best way to start your days.

This morning you’re laying on the couch in the Room of Requirement with him on top of you as you play with his hair in silence. “Can I admit something to you?”

“Of course you can,” you say furrowing your brows.

He looks up, grinning like a devil, causing you to stop playing with his hair. “I tripped you. When we met, I saw you walking, I saw you in your mind and for some reason I just wanted to…touch you. Which I knew I needed to do because I’ve never felt that way. I’ve never wanted to feel someone’s skin against mine. I don’t want to keep secrets just to keep you.” His voice getting deeper as he talks and your heart beating faster as the air grows thick with something you’re unfamiliar with.

You can’t look away and your skin is burning. Was it always so hot in here? You don’t know what to say. His eyes are so brown, the brown you love. You only have one thing to say, “Kiss me.”

He doesn’t hesitate, holding himself up with his right hand so you’re laying underneath him. He grabs your jaw with his left hand and immediately places his lips on yours. The kiss starts off gently, with you running your fingers through his hair, as you pull on it he immediately begins deepening the kiss, his left hand now cupping the back of your head pulling on your hair.

Typically when walking towards the Great Hall with Theo, you both arrive before anyone and walk to your separate tables, waiting for your friends without suspicion. However this time, with everything that happened, you two were a little late.

You both arrive at the Great Hall and see your friends sitting together, giving you both looks as if they’ve been expecting you. Now your mind is racing with probabilities. Is your shirt ruffled? Is your hair out of place? Are Theo’s buttons unbuttoned? Is Theo’s hair ruffled?

Theo and you sit down seats away from each other as casual as you can as if that would be less suspicious. You serve yourself breakfast, ignoring the silence and obvious topic you’re trying to avoid.

Riddle scoffs, “Okay, I’m tired of this, when are you two going to tell us?” He says looking only at Theo.

“What are you talking about?” Theo says, furrowing his brows feigning confusion.

Ariana speaks up, “Y/N, we really thought you would tell us if anything happened.”

“I understand why you wouldn’t but finding your soulmate is something massive that you needed time to process-”

You cut Sophia off, “Soulmate? So you all know then.”

“We know.” They all say in unison.

“Wait, how? Besides Berkshire who promised not to tell…” Theo said.

“Wait Berkshire figured it out?” You ask.

Berkshire nods his head as he says, “Oh c’mon it was so obvious. He was stalking her, obsessed with blueberry muffins, his mood would change when she was around, he switched seats to be near her, guys around her would suddenly not be-”

Theo narrows his eyes, “Okay, you could’ve stopped a long time ago. We get it.”

You look at your friends, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys, it was all just complicated.”

They all look at each other and Violet smiles, “We get it Y/N, we all noticed you’ve been happier too.”

Ariana adds in a teasing tone, “Plus you two weren’t that secretive walking back to the dorms before curfew. I must say though, you actually looked cute, his arm around your shoulder.”

Your cheeks warm up, the fact that they know and it’s now official, setting in.

You turn to Theo, finding him already staring at you. You immediately give him a smile and look into his eyes, his eyes are so brown, the brown you love. He smiles back and-

“Yuck! You two are disgusting, I’m trying to eat my breakfast here,” Malfoy says.

“Alright Theo, let go,” you say getting up from the table ready to get away, “we’ll see you guys later.”

“Theo?” All the boys say in unison.

Theo intertwines your fingers together, glad he doesn’t have to hide you two anymore. “Just keep walking,” he says. However as he leads you out of the Great Hall you don’t miss the teasing “Aw’s” coming from your friends.

He leads you out of the Great Hall, into an empty classroom. He closes the door after you enter and presses you up against the door. He holds your face in his hand, “Please tell me they didn’t scare you off.”

You tilt your head back while laughing, “Of course not.” You peck his lips and pull back too fast for his liking.

“Good because, for whatever it’s worth…I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?” He says looking down at you with a shy smile.

You wrap your arms around his neck, shaking your head, “I love you,” pulling him down so your lips could meet.

You pull back and stare into his eyes, his brown eyes, the brown you love so much.

—

send any requests you would like thank you

I totally edited this after I posted

I know theo doesn’t have brown eyes btw it’s more of a reader(me) thing thanks

596 notes · View notes

miryum · 10 days ago

Text

Trust (Mattheo Riddle x Reader) Southern Regency AU

Warnings: Reader is a bit of a brat/empty-minded at first but it gets so much better, 10-ish age difference, Reader is in love with Harry Potter at first (or thinks she is), set in the South (of the US)

Y/n L/n was the belle of the South. She had the Weasley twins running after her every weekend and at the weekly balls, their older brother, Charlie, had to have the first dance with her. Her father had rejected numerous suitors, but that didn’t mean they stopped trying. The Diggory family had made a large offer, but their estate was too small for the L/n family.

The L/n’s consisted of the patriarch, William, and the matriarch, Peggy. While William ran the fields, Peggy ran his heart and household. Their oldest was their pride and joy, Y/n, followed by Odessa. Odessa hated being in her sister’s shadow. It meant her infatuation for George Weasley was seen as childish and unwanted. The L/n’s had one last daughter, Della, who was ten years younger than Y/n. Della was a sweetheart who trailed after her mother, following every step religiously.

The family had many acres of fields stretching around their mansion, as did everyone else in the county. Their fields were rich with grains that shipped out to the rest of the state. William had built up an empire that was now run smoothly by his wife. So, no, not a Weasley or Diggory was good enough for their daughter. She was much too young and had years ahead of her before she was considered an old spinster.

Many boys trailed after Y/n, begging for a chance to court her, and she was happy to flirt with them. The boys, after years of growing up around the same children their entire lives, soon learned how to gain Y/n’s attention. They had to catch her when her father was busy, otherwise she would turn into his perfect, sweet little girl who could do no wrong. If her sisters were around, the younger girls would try to steal the attention and Y/n would revert to her cool, unimpressed self that none of the boys could crack. However, if the girl was at a ball or they rode over to her house to catch her reading on the porch, that’s when she would flirt and touch their arm lightly with her coy smile.

But it was not the Weasley twins or the Diggory boy that Y/n wanted. It was Harry Potter. The boy was so oblivious, it was tantalising. He had a mature air around him that no other boy did. He would ride up to her house every Sunday on his majestic white horse, Hedwig, and speak to her like no one else did. He read her poems and took her riding and was just so pretty. He talked a lot about politics and the different families of the South, and that Y/n didn’t like, but he made it up with the little gifts he brought her. There was that lace fan he brought her after his Grand Tour and even some pressed flowers in a thick book. She tried to read the book to show Harry that she cared, but it had such tiny print and was about boring law that she gave up after the first couple of paragraphs.

It was a cool June evening and the windows were open at the L/n villa. The soft breeze ruffled the curtains when the neighbour’s gossip finally reached the ladies in the house. A new engagement in the state! The four females sat at the dining table, William at the head, seemingly bored. Odessa asked excitedly who would be going to the engagement party, thinking of her dear George Weasley.

“It seems like everyone in the county,” Peggy commented, regurgitating what she had learned from the women in her cross-stitch group. “The Weasleys, the Longbottoms, the Malfoys.”

William scoffed and rattled off, “the Weasleys? Their entire brood? And the Longbottoms? They’re hardly in high society. Why invite them? And must we engage with the Malfoys? You know how they get, dear Peggy.”

“William,” Peggy reprimanded, clicking her tongue. “It’s Ginerva’s engagement. Do be kind.”

Y/n raised her head from her plate and asked, “Ginny’s getting married? The little one? To whom? Wasn’t that boy Dean Thomas pursuing her?”

“No, no,” Peggy waved her daughter off. “He was a nice young lad, but they never got along.” She took a bite of food as if she wasn’t about to deliver earth-shattering news to her unsuspecting daughter. “She’s getting married to Harry Potter.”

Y/n didn’t think she heard the rest of the conversation. Small Ginny Weasley, the girl with the choppy red hair and ugly dresses, was marrying her Harry? The Harry that had the most beautiful eyes and lovely lilting words and understanding conversations? Yes, their families were close and Harry was best friends with Ginny’s older brother, but he loved Y/n. She knew it. The way he lit up when he saw her and the way his smile slowly stretched over his lips until he was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. All of that was her Harry.

“Y/n?” Della asked from the other side of the table, always aware of her elder sister. “Are you alright?” But the girl couldn’t say anything. For if she did, then her whole family would know her secret. And then her mother would be embarrassed and aghast. Her father would think of her as yet still a child, brushing away her affection. Lousy Odessa would gossip to George Weasley and his twin, wanting to win over their favour, and the twins would surely tell their engaged sister. Della wouldn’t understand, the poor girl just an infant in Y/n’s eyes.

“Yes, yes, I’m alright,” Y/n muttered. “Father, I’m feeling a bit faint. I think something with the salad didn’t sit right with me. I’m to lie down.”

William muttered permission, waving his daughter away. Y/n tried not to run to her room, for fear it would give her emotions away. But the moment her door was locked safely behind her, she fell onto her bed, sobbing. How could Harry do this to her?

Oh, what was her life coming to?

Y/n had a plan. If only she could get Harry alone at his engagement party and confess her true feelings, he would see they were meant to be together. The problem was that Ginny stuck to his side like annoying glue. It seemed as if the two were off in their own little world, gazing into each other's eyes. Well, Y/n huffed to herself, two can play that game. That’s how she found herself surrounded by beaus from all over the county.

Cedric Diggory sat on the bench next to her and the Weasley twins sat at her feet on the grass. Fred Weasley went even farther and laid his head on her skirts dramatically whenever he wanted her attention. Neville Longbottom stood beside them all, looking nervously back at his Gran, who was determined to get her grandson connected to the L/n’s. Even Dean Thomas, still getting over his loss of Ginny Weasley, was there, trying to talk to an anxious Neville.

Batting her eyes and fanning herself playfully under the pretence of the hot sun, Y/n walked the line of flirtatious and bashful perfectly. She could feel the glares of all the other girls at the party, but she ignored them. She was talking to George Weasley when she spotted another boy to catch in her web. “Oh, Georgie, the Malfoy’s are here,” she commented smoothly.

This caught the rest of the suitor’s attention. “Oh, joy,” Fred said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Come, Y/n, let me whisk you heroically away before that greased boy tries to woo you.”

“You mean Draco?” Y/n laughed melodically, which made Neville blush deeply. “Oh, he’s no harm. A bit rude and uppity, but just a boy when it all comes down to it.”

“Yes, but a boy,” Fred confirmed. “You, love, need a man.” At that, he took her hand and kissed her knuckles.

Y/n opened her fan and hid her face behind it teasingly. “Oh, Mr. Fred, you charmer,” she chastised.

“Oh, my,” Cedric breathed out, which made Y/n’s attention turn from Fred, who pouted, to the Diggory boy. Did the Malfoy’s bring a girl that captured Cedric’s eye? Oh, that would be horrid for her plan. But, no. Following Cedric’s stare, Y/n saw another man emerge with Mr. Lucious Malfoy.

“Who is that?” she asked without thinking, placing a hand on Cedric’s arm.

“What on earth is he doing here?” Dean Thomas demanded, back stiffening and hands clasping behind his back. His voice was just loud enough for Y/n and her suitors to hear. But he didn’t answer her question.

Y/n huffed slightly and turned to Neville. He would always be at her beck and call. “Neville, who is that man?” she asked again, tone firm.

Neville tore his eyes away from the mysterious man and stuttered, “uh, well, Miss Y/n, that’s Mattheo Riddle.” He slowly sat down next to her, as if testing the waters.

“Mattheo Riddle?” Y/n repeated, the name feeling heavy on her tongue. “Why, I’ve never heard of him.”

“Then your father did a good job,” Fred glowered. It seemed as if he wasn’t the only one shooting dirty looks at the new man.

Dean Thomas agreed, “yes, no respectable lady should have heard of him. An absolute abomination of a gentleman.”

Y/n’s eyes widen in the presence of new gossip and scandal, something all ladies of the county grasped for. None were above whispering to their friends behind their hands whenever they heard something enticing. “Whatever did he do?” she asked desperately.

Cedric was the one to inform her that Mr. Mattheo Riddle was the infamous bastard child of Tom Riddle and Bellatrix Lestrange. That made him the nephew of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. Allegedly, Mr. Riddle’s father had left him and his mother at a young age, only making visits when he felt it necessary to shape Mr. Riddle into a harsh young man. Mr. Riddle had left to join the military, but was dishonourably discharged when he shot and killed another man for speaking ill of his family and upbringing. He then followed in his father’s footsteps of backalley trading and illicit affairs. With his father and mother’s separate fortunes, along with the one he earned, he had amassed large wealth.

Y/n couldn’t help but watch Mattheo Riddle. Neville tried to hold a conversation with the girl, and she tried to entertain him, she really did, but the way Mr. Riddle held himself on the outskirts of the party captivated her. With a drink swirling in one hand and the other tucked smartly behind his back, he looked… perfunctorily debonair.

For a man a decade older than her, he was incredibly handsome. He was easily the best dressed man at the party, even better than Lucius Malfoy himself. And his hair was most unusual. Rather than the slicked back style that most young boys wore, his had more volume, showing his curls. Y/n could see his striking and calculative eyes from across the yard. They took one sweep around the party, yet glazed over her.

It took everything within Y/n not to march over to the newcomer and demand his attention. Why were his eyes not on her? But then Neville placed a concerned hand on her back and asked if she was okay. He really is a sweet boy, Y/n thought to herself. “Yes, I’m alright,” she assured him. “I just may go lie down with the rest of the ladies.”

“Oh! Of course!” Neville scrambled to his feet and helped her up. Fred Weasley let out a whine when his headrest disappeared, but understood how a delicate lady needed her rest.

“Thank you, Neville,” Y/n said sincerely. She patted his hand and whispered theatrically, “you know… you didn’t hear this from me, but I think Miss Luna Lovegood fancies you.” Neville turned a dark shade of red as Y/n made her way to the house.

But she wasn’t going to nap. With the rest of the girls also laying down, including Ginny, this was her chance to speak to Harry. She would confess her love and he would tell her he always reciprocated and then he would break off his engagement and perhaps Ginny would be sad, but Y/n’s parents couldn’t get mad once they saw how happy their daughter was.

Once inside, Y/n saw Harry bid a loving goodbye to Ginny, the latter who went upstairs to nap. Her future fiancé then turned around and noticed her. “Y/n,” he greeted with a grin. He leaned down to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. “How are you? You’ve been so busy all party, I didn’t have the chance to talk to you!” Ah, so he had seen her with her suitors. Pride filled her. This was going perfectly.

“Harry, could we talk in the library?” Y/n asked, smiling up at him, an intoxication of love filling her veins. Harry raised a curious brow, but agreed. He followed her into the library where he asked if everything was alright. “Yes, I’m fine,” she told him. “I only need to tell you something, Harry.”

“And what is that?” Harry replied with a grin, thinking it was all some lighthearted joke.

Y/n pressed a hand to her chest and looked up at him, eyes wide and pleading. “Oh, Harry,” she began. “I must say something now before you go on with this whole affair! I mean, it is truly noble of you to sacrifice yourself for the poor girl, but I couldn’t let you go on with it! Especially when I know your feelings, Harry,” she said. The boy’s expression slowly changed to one of merriment to one of guarded concern. “I’m in love with you, Harry!” Y/n exclaimed, reaching forward to clasp his hands. “I have been all my life and I know you feel the same! So why marry Ginerva when you could marry me?”

Harry didn’t say anything for a moment before he slowly retracted his hands from her gloved grip. “Y/n,” he said slowly. “I’m utterly flattered. But I’m marrying Ginny. I can’t… I can’t love you, you know that, yes?”

Confusion showed on Y/n’s face, but a small smile still managed to quirk up on her lips. “But you do, don’t you?” she asked. “Love me, I mean. I know you do, Harry.” After a moment of hesitance, she added, “right?”

“Dear,” Harry said, taking her hands in his and patting them reassuringly. “I’ve always been fond of you. You’re very witty and brave. But that’s not… that’s not who I need. I need Ginny,” he stated, looking uncomfortable. “You’re a lovely girl. Any man would be lucky to have you. But… I’m not that man for you.”

Y/n didn’t remember the rest of the conversation. She was sure Harry said some more nice things, all very awkwardly, and she remembered that he kissed her lightly on the cheek, but then she was left alone. She let herself fall onto a nearby settee, face flushed and hand on her stomach. She felt sick. But she also felt mad. Terribly mad. And yet, depressed. Too many emotions were swirling around her that she wasn’t herself when, with a yell, she picked up a vase and hurled it across the room. With a satisfying smash, it crackled and split onto the floor, just like her poor heart.

A low, amused chuckle filled the room and Y/n whirled around to see Mattheo Riddle sitting up on a couch. “What- who- what are you doing here?!” Y/n cried.

“Why, I was just taking a nap when I got disturbed by an unrequited declaration of love and a splintered vase. Whose is that anyways?” Mr. Riddle asked smoothly, shoulders still shaking from his laughter. “Whom will your father have to pay off?”

“Don’t you dare tell my father!” Y/n said, somewhere between desperate and demanding. “Oh, you sordid man! You have no right to listen in on a private conversation.”

“A rather amusing conversation,” Mr. Riddle chuckled, a wry smile stretching his lips. “I never thought you the type to lust after Mr. Potter.”

Y/n’s skirts swirled around her as she turned away from him in anger but then rounded on him again. “You don’t know a thing about me, sir! Why, I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

“And yet by the way you court all those other men, them begging after you like dogs, gives me a glimpse into your character.” It was then that Mr. Riddle took her hand in the most gentle way possible and laid a kiss upon her knuckles. The girl stilled. “Mattheo Riddle, at your service only, dear.”

“My service only?” is what Y/n could think to reply, not even giving her name like a proper lady would.

Mattheo inclined his head in a coy manner. “Yes.”

After a beat, Y/n grumped, “is that all you’re going to say?”

“I have nothing else to say.” Mattheo shrugged. One of his brows raised innocently. But Y/n got the feeling he was anything but. “Other than to ask for your name,” he added.

“Miss Y/n L/n and you will address me as such,” Y/n declared. “None of that ‘dear’ sobriquet.”

“Well, Miss Y/n L/n,” Mattheo began. “You best be hurrying along. The other women will wake from their rest soon and you wouldn’t want to be caught in the library with me, a sordid man.” He repeated her words back, but mockery laced his tone.

Y/n’s face grew hot and she spluttered a bit, looking very flustered and angered. Mr. Riddle watched on in amusement. “And how do I know you’ll keep your mouth shut about what you heard?” she asked finally.

At that, Mattheo Riddle smirked. “You don’t. You’ll just have to trust me.”

A week later was Harry and Ginny’s wedding. Y/n wore a deep blue dress, bordering on black. Yet she smiled and cheered along with the rest of the guests, even as her joy slipped away. She had half a mind to propose to Neville just to pull some attention onto her.

Mr. Mattheo Riddle was not there. Not that Y/n noticed.

She was sitting on the porch about three days later, pitying herself as she worked on her embroidery. She was trying to stitch a lovely sunrise, but she just couldn’t get a cloud right. She hardly heard the sounds of horse hooves clopping down the drive. “Miss Y/n L/n,” a gratingly familiar voice called out.

She sighed and her hands fell to her lap in exasperation. “I’m doing my embroidery!” she called back. “I don’t have time for eavesdropping men who dub me frustrating monikers.”

“You sure know plenty of synonyms for nicknames,” Mattheo commented, swinging his leg over his horse to dismount.

“Father keeps me well read.”

Mattheo bounded up the porch steps to reach her, but then realised that looked too childish, no matter how much he wanted to see her. He quickly composed himself. “And what is the lovely lady sewing?” he asked, settling into the rocking chair near her.

“I don’t recall inviting you up for a chat,” she said snarkily. After a moment where he just smirked at her, she replied, “and it’s a sunset. Or a sunrise. I’m not entirely sure yet. Whatever it is, it’s mightily frustrating.” She pricked her finger with the needle and exclaimed out.

Mr. Riddle’s brows furrowed and he took the cross-stitch away, not wanting her to get any more hurt. “Don’t you have a maid to stitch this for you?”

“Mother thinks every proper lady should know how to wield a needle and thread,” Y/n said, her back straightening. She then scowled. “Of course, Odessa has already perfected hers.”

It was then that the girl noticed Mr. Mattheo Riddle carefully stitching her embroidery, his nimble fingers tugging and looping the needle perfectly. Noticing her shocked face, Mattheo explained, “my grandmother taught me how. It was one of her favourite pastimes. I pricked myself many times — just like you. Of course, my father found it too feminine, but I just liked spending time with my grandmother. Perhaps that’s why my grandmother taught me her craft: so I could spare you some trouble and pain. I will gladly do so, darling.”

The air settled around them. Her father’s hounds were barking in the field and she could hear the servants singing from behind the house, doing laundry. She shifted in her seat. “What was her name?” Y/n asked cautiously, still not trusting this man.

“Merope,” Mattheo answered softly. “The poor thing had memory loss, you know. She couldn’t remember my name, much less what we had stitched last time I had visited. But she loved me. And so she taught me how to embroider over and over again.”

Y/n swallowed thickly. She could almost envision Mattheo as a child, climbing onto his grandma's lap to watch her sew out a work of art. Maybe they had sat on a rocking chair on a porch, just like she and Mattheo did now. She watched him finish the cloud she had been working on before handing her back the hoop. “Why are you here?” she wondered, staring down at the cloud, which was done much better than her own.

“To convince you that you can trust me.” And with that, he stood and kissed her forehead before straightening his suit and walking back to his horse. As he gripped the reins in his hands, he yelled back, “oh, and to inform you that I’ll be competing for your hand!”

She saw him next about two months later, at another county party. But this party was special. It was all for Y/n.

William L/n had gone all out for his eldest daughter. This was the day when all the formal suitors presented themselves. Yes, Fred and George Weasley had been courting her for years, but it would now be official. Not only were two of the Weasleys there, but Cedric Diggory, Oliver Wood, Ernie Macmillan, and Dean Thomas and his close friend, Seamus Finnigan. Neville Longbottom was now happily engaged to Luna Lovegood.

As much as Y/n put on a front, being surrounded by men, some of which were years older, was intimidating. She flirted and blushed and acted like a lady, but when Seamus Finnigan talked to Cedric Diggory about the growth of their family’s crops, talking around Y/n as Oliver Wood tried to entertain her with polo facts, she felt useless. Bored. Like a prop to be placed on someone’s arm.

That’s when Mattheo Riddle walked in. He stayed on the outskirts of the party for a long while, observing. He didn’t hide the fact that he was watching Y/n’s attention be snapped up by suitor after suitor. His eyes were already on hers whenever she glanced up to him. It was a dangerous game he was playing, but one he didn’t want to quit. Maybe this was what had drawn him to this little county in the countryside. Maybe Draco’s letter of invitation wasn’t all for naught. It couldn’t be, not when her eyes made him feel more alive than ever before. Mattheo Riddle made a promise to himself, then and there, as he watched the seven suitors surrounding Y/n. He would marry that girl.

Only a few minutes later did Ernie Macmillan chuckle in disbelief. “Is that Mattheo Riddle?” he asked. Y/n let the other men answer, for fear of sounding as if she had been gazing at the forbidden man. Which, if her father asked, she had not.

“Sir!” Seamus Finnigan called out from where he was lounging on the couch. His arm hung over the back of Y/n’s chair, something he found courage to do with the whiskey flowing through his veins. “Come join us, I beg you.”

Mattheo quirked a brow but strode over from where he was leaning against the wall. “Gentlemen,” he greeted smoothly. “How are you all this fine day?” He shook hands with each man. It was only then he allowed his eyes to settle on Y/n. “Ah, my dear Miss Y/n.” Her eyes watched the way his lip curved into a smile. “It’s lovely to see you here.” He took her hand in his and brushed her knuckles to his lips. It took all of Y/n’s restraint not to take in a shaky breath.

“Why, this is her party, after all,” Fred Weasley said, smirking. “Why wouldn’t she be here?”

“Mr. Weasley.” Mattheo turned to the man. “Perhaps if you had paid attention to my words, I never said I was surprised to see her, only delighted. And I can assure you, I am very delighted.” George Weasley snickered and clapped his twin on the shoulder. Fred just glared at the Riddle heir.

Mattheo sat down on the ottoman by Y/n’s feet, posture straight and perfect. An electrifying shiver ran down his spine as Y/n asked how he was. “Splendid,” he told her. “After all, I am in your presence. Darling, if any of these men told you they were less than splendid, I’ll offer to kick them to the street at your command.” The suitors chuckled at the joke, but Mattheo just held his future wife’s gaze. They both knew he meant every word.

Oliver Wood shook his head. “I still can’t believe I have the honour to meet the Mattheo Riddle. From all the rumours, I thought you were surely a ghost story.”

“I hate to disappoint,” came the easy reply.

“No, no disappointment here.” Oliver held up his hands. “Just surprise. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Mattheo stared down the man. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

Oliver stammered out, “well, because people see you as- as well, good sir, I needn’t offend, but-”

“Cruel?” Mattheo supplied. After the awkward glances were exchanged between the suitors, he continued, “Unwanted? Cynical, unfeeling, only out for himself and his riches? Well, I can’t say you’re wrong,” he said simply. “I’ve done unhonourable things and I’ve lived my life for my own gain. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings. Or that I can’t love,” he finished, eyes on Y/n.

She shifted under his stare and opened her fan to hide her blush. “I may go lay down,” she whispered out. The seven men around her began to protest, but Mr. Riddle simply held his hand out for her to take. He helped her stand and then bid her farewell. He settled back onto the ottoman to which the other men glared at him.

“Why can’t you corrupt some other girl?” Ernie Macmillan grumbled into his whiskey glass that he took a long swallow of. The other suitors seemed to deflate as well, now calling for more alcohol, slouching in their seats, and using more vulgar language. It was only Mattheo Riddle that kept his posture, his little cup of whiskey, and preserved tone. But even he felt a flare of anger at Mr. Macmillan’s words. “Take another girl for your wife. But leave this one for the rest of us. Why do you suddenly have a claim over her?”

“Another girl, you say?” Mattheo repeated, voice low and protective. “Take another one for my wife and leave her for the rest of you? Is that what you think I want? To just take any girl as my wife? No,” he stated, plain and simple, “I want her and only her. And why do I have a sudden claim over her? I don’t. And do not mistake her for a girl, Macmillan. She is a fierce woman, one none of you boys could handle. But perhaps… Perhaps I have fallen in love with her. Against all reason and sanity,” he added in a mutter, taking a swig of whiskey.

“But it’s foolish!” Fred Weasley exclaimed as all other men were stunned to silence. “You- you’ve only met the girl – pardon, woman – once. More than two months ago. And serving my memory, you never even talked to the Miss.” Fred’s memory didn’t have all the facts, as Mr. Riddle had met Y/n twice and had talked to her on both occasions.

Mattheo shot back, “love often makes us do foolish things, does it not? And I’m willing to be a fool for her, if that’s what it takes.”

Cedric Diggory studied Mattheo for a moment before musing, “you’re an admirable man, Mr. Riddle. But you must know I, along with the rest of these men, will still fight for her hand. And we have an advantage: her father’s approval.”

“What does her father’s approval mean if you don’t have her heart?” Mattheo asked. “If she doesn’t love you, what good does it do?”

“Well, does she love you?” Seamus Finnigan implored, trying to turn the tables on the man.

At that, Mr. Riddle rested his weight on the palm of his hand, leaning back. Even though his face was collected, a brush of pain swept over his heart, knowing the answer was uncertain. “Does she love me?” he echoed, tone soft. “I hope so.” He knew when it was best to shut up, so he didn’t say what he really wanted to; she hasn’t said the words, but I see it in her eyes. I see the fire in her, the same fire that burns within me. “You may think it hopeless,” he observed, looking at the other men. “That it’s foolish, believing she could return my love. Call me a fool, then. But I know what I feel, and I won’t give up on her, no matter how hopeless it may seem.”

Y/n had made it a habit of sitting outside, in case Mattheo Riddle came riding by again. Her efforts weren’t in vain, for a couple days later, his horse trotted up.

The coy look on his face showed he was feeling sly and quick-witted that day. He would make Y/n vie for his affections, no doubt in her mind. He dismounted with a flourish and a smirk, his coattails flipping out behind him. “Ah, my dear Miss L/n,” he called out, his voice carrying mischief. “I hope I find you well today!”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call me by my last name,” Y/n replied, setting her book down. “‘Miss Y/n’, or perchance ‘dear’ or ‘darling’, but never Miss L/n.”

“Hmm, my apologies, my dear,” he said as he strode up towards her, mock formality in his voice. “I suppose I’ve become accustomed to calling you by your given name. But I do like the sound of ‘Miss L/n’ as well. It has a certain… ring to it.” He took a seat on the rocking chair next to her and studied her book. “Never thought you the type to read Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

“It’s a love story,” Y/n defended.

“It most certainly is not,” Mattheo chuckled. “You’ve read it before, I assume?”

Y/n huffed. Why she continued to entertain Mr. Riddle was beyond her. “His devotion is clear. And yes, I have. Anyway, before you so very rudely interrupted me, I was going to say I thought you would detest my last name.”

Mattheo clicked his tongue and leaned back in his chair. “There isn’t much I could detest when it comes to you,” he admitted, glancing over slyly at her.

“How sweet.” Y/n rolled her eyes sardonically, but couldn’t help but smile. She added after a moment, “though I still thought you would dislike it.”

He shot her a lazy smile. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time, looking out over her family’s lands. “And why would I dislike it, my darling?”

Y/n let out a soft, mischievous laugh. “Well, I thought surely you’d want to change it.”

“Change it, darling?” Mattheo raised a brow. “Pray tell, what would I change it to?”

Her eyes travelled to the sky, for if Y/n was to look at Mr. Riddle, her gaze would be transfixed on his lips. She swallowed and said slowly, “something that sounds like yours?”

Mattheo’s stare snapped towards her. “Are you suggesting what I think you are?” he murmured in a soft tone.

Ever playing coquettish, the woman responded, “what do you think I’m suggesting?”

Mattheo leaned in a bit closer, his heart beating faster at the notion he was about to say. “I think you’re suggesting you’d like to carry the Riddle surname, my darling,” he replied. “Is that what you’re implying?”

“Perhaps,” Y/n forced out after a short silence.

“And here I thought you thought me brutish and sordid.” When Y/n didn’t answer, an embarrassed flush on her cheek, he said in a quiet voice, “you know, if you enjoy Hunchback, you should see Notre Dame in person. Paris is lovely. We should go sometime.” He crossed one leg over the other and turned his attention back towards the horizon.

Y/n’s lips curved into a small smile. “I would like that.”

“Of course,” Mattheo added, clearing his throat, “if you’re still hung up on Mr. Potter, then you should probably go with him.”

Why, Y/n hadn’t thought about Harry once in the past weeks. How peculiar. And based on the little smirk on Mattheo’s face, he knew it. “I don’t think Harry and I were the right fit,” she said eventually.

“Oh?”

“No,” she mused. “It’s frustrating, yes? You think you have your whole life planned ahead and then… it gets ripped away from you.”

“Or maybe it’s just getting started,” Mattheo muttered. “Your life, I mean. You’re young, Y/n. And Harry Potter shouldn’t dictate whether or not your life has started or ended.”

“I’m not getting any younger,” Y/n complained. “Father wants to marry me off to a good, wealthy man before I turn twenty-five. I thought with Harry, I could get some love out of it as well.”

Mattheo asked honestly, “would it matter if you loved your husband if your husband loved you with everything in him?”

Y/n’s fingers fiddled with the pages of her book. “I think if someone loved me that much,” she whispered, “it would be impossible not to love him back.”

Mattheo felt his hand twitch as he looked down at her fingers. Slowly, he reached out to encircle her palm in his. His warm hand held hers loosely, so that Y/n could pull away if she wished, but just firmly enough that she could sense his devotion.

“Why… why are you doing this?” Y/n asked.

“The truth?” Once Y/n nodded, he continued, “I see the fire in you… The same fire that burns in me. Well, that used to burn in me.” Mattheo paused. “I’m sure you know of my father. I hated the man, and am ashamed to call him a father. But, even so, after he died, I’ve felt… stuck, Y/n. If we’re to keep with the fire analogy, I fizzled out. Yet with you…” he chuckled and shook his head. “Well, I’m sure you know where I’m going with this.”

“So what do you want me to do?” Y/n whispered. “Is this you proposing marriage, Mr. Riddle?” She smirked, even though her heart began beating a bit more quickly.

When Mattheo shook his head, she couldn't help but feel just a little bit disappointed. “No, that’s much too soon for you. Maybe in two or three years. But…” he threw her a wry grin, squeezing her hand lightly. “This is me proposing I begin courting you.”

“What?” Her hand flexed around his. “Really?”

“You can trust me.”

Four years later, because Y/n was notoriously stubborn when it came to her beau, Mattheo Riddle got down on one knee. “My darling dear,” he teased, using the nicknames he knew she hated. Y/n rolled her eyes in response. “You have made me wait what seems like millennia to finally officially call you mine. Of course, I’d wait aeons more, but I’m hoping that today, you’ll put me out of my misery and give me the honour of being your husband.”

“You’ll take me to Paris for the honeymoon?” Y/n asked, despite the tears shining in her eyes.

Mattheo let out a loud, joyful laugh. “Yes, yes I will.” And as he slid the ring on her finger, he murmured, “you can trust me.”

“I always have.”

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gracesmusings4adults · 1 year ago

Text

Two Devils and an Angel

Dark!George Weasley x Reader x Dark!Fred Weasley

18+ dark themes, dub con, yadere themes, no incest, no Y/N, female mc

This is an AU. I am building a new world.

He is a perfect gentleman.

He is handsome, has a kind heart, and has a voice that could make angels cry.

My heart races when I am around him.

Yet I can’t help but desire the darkness.

I wish to be consumed by it.

I need to be devoured by them.

“Fred!” I scream his name as my fingers work circles around my sensitive nub.

My back arches as my legs wrap around my fingers. I squeeze them tight as I feel my juices leak out and soak on to my sheets.

I am completely and utterly soaked.

I pull my fingers out and guilt blooms in my stomach. I had said it. I had said my desire outloud. There was no taking it back now.

I can never forgive myself if he heard.

I am a monster.

I am a vile creature that must be punished.

The next morning, my boyfriend greets me with a kiss. “Good morning, my precious angel. Sleep well?” He asks. His gaze concealed a mischievous plan. “Think of me?” My eyes flash to the man behind him. Fred smirks at me. My body melts into George’s and shame creeps up my throat as my panties grow wet with need. “Always, George.” It’s only a partial lie. I had thought of George last night, but I had also thought of the man standing next to him.

“Oh my angel,” his voice sends flutters to my stomach. “Why don’t we skip class? Fred will collect our work for us.” His lips press into my neck, never once looking towards his brother. My eyes sinfully connect with Fred’s and in my haze, I mistake his annoyance for lust. “Of course dear brother,” Fred sighs. His gaze holds mine for a second too long and then he leaves.

“Fuck angel,” His fingers dance under my robe. “Tell me what you did last night,” I whisper my confession in his ear as he pushes me back to his and Fred’s room. We stumble into the dark room as he rips my robe off, the Gryffindor crest shining bright against the black backdrop. He drops to his knees in front of me and pulls my panties to the side.

I scream out as his tongue dances on my clit. “Keep talking angel. Tell me how you touched yourself.” His fingers dig into my thighs as my legs shake from the orgasm that has yet to stop. “Tell me how many times you finished.” My back presses into the cold wall as my body shakes with the power of another climax. My voice shakes as I confess.

His tongue swirls around my clit as I continue to spasm with pleasure. My juices cover his face as I try to keep talking. He continues to eat me out until I beg him to stop. He stands up and lifts me off the ground. He gives me a false sense of hope when he strips down. My mouth waters at the sight of him. “What else, my angel?” His eyes darken as he advances on me. My knees hit the back of the bed and my legs continue to tremble from the pleasurable assault. “That’s it, George.” His tongue tisks at the top of his mouth. I feel tears well up in my eyes. He presses a hand into my stomach, forcing me onto the bed. He takes a step back as I watch his cock grow and harden. He looks at me like I am the most delectable meal he has ever seen.

“I don’t think you are being honest me, angel.” He grabs his wand and whispers a binding spell. My hands are stuck to the sides of the small bed. Roughly he grabs my ankles and yanks the towards his broad shoulders. I am completely open to him. His gaze never leaves my exposed cunt. His finger slowly circles my clit. A scream rips through me. His fingers thrust into me. “Whose name did you scream last night?” I gasp and try to pull away from his fingers. He pulls my hair back and forces my gaze on him.

His fingers thrust into me again, hitting my g-spot. My back arches off the bed. “Yours!” I scream as I feel the high coming. He continues to thrust his fingers in me, pulling them out, and thrusting them back in. My body continues to shake and jerk with the intensity of the pleasure. “Who else?” My eyes roll back into my head and then… and then it’s gone. I pull my hands, the invisible rope digging into my sensitive skin. My body is burning with desire for what was so crully taken away from me. “George, please. Baby I love you. Please.” Tears are running down my face.

George is an angel. He is light. But he laughs. “George!” I scream at him. He leans down on top of me. His fingers trailing up my body. I reach up to press against him as his fingers brush my inner thighs, up my stomach, and past my sensitive buds. His length presses against my abused clit. “Angel?” My chin is held roughly between his fingers. He presses against me, holding me in place.

I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to cum. But I can do none of these things. I am trapped under George and his sadistic game. Who knew my light angel could be so dark? Oh, how I love it. In that moment I decide to be brave and accept the darkness that was all too welcoming. “Fred! I said, Fred. I love you, George, I promise. I don’t know why I did it. I just did.” The moment the words leave my lips his cock slides into me. I scream his name.

He pulls out and thrusts back in. I am being used by George and I don't care. He is a good man and an amazing lover. He will be the end of me, but I can't help but want him to be. "Good girl." He whispers into my ear as he starts to move. “My angel,” he grunts. His hips are moving faster. His thrusts are becoming harder. His grip on me is tight. I feel the high coming. His lips crush on mine as I feel my body release. I scream into his mouth.

My body is convulsing with pleasure. My heart is beating so fast I think I will pass out. He continues to pound into me. His movements are becoming sloppy. His cock is throbbing inside me. He pulls out and I feel his cum coat my stomach.

"I love you, Angel," he whispers into my ear as we lay there panting. The binds that hold my hands disappear. “You’re not mad?” I ask. I need him to say he isn't mad. I need to hear it. He pulls away from me and stares at me. "He loves you too. We both love you and want you more than anything.” His eyes glaze over. “We understand that it is a lot, so we didn’t want to push you. We wanted you to choose both of us.” My mind spins with his confession.

"But how? How could you both love me?" I ask. George chuckles and runs his fingers through my hair. "Because you are our angel.” I snuggle into him as he kisses my forehead.

"I love you, George."

When her breathing evens out the voice in the dark speaks. “I have been patient enough, brother.” Fred’s shadow stands and moves toward the large bed. The crest of Godric Gryffindor the only color on his all-black suit. He walks to the edge of the bed and sits down. He brushes her hair from her face and takes her hand. "We have done it your way and she has chosen us," he says as he runs his finger along her palm.

The darling angel shifts in the bed, pressing her body closer to George and opening herself up to Fred. George grunts in agreement. “Tomorrow I shall make her mine and then she can be ours.”

He slips his hand from hers and runs his fingers along her chest. She shivers and moans. Fred pulls back his hand and watches the darling angel. George's arm tightens around her.

Fred chuckles and stands. "Tomorrow, brother, is my day. I shall take my leave and let you get some rest." George pulls the angel closer to him. Fred walks to the door and opens it. "Fred." He looks back at George. "We shall all take our turn with her soon." George nods and Fred leaves the room.

George kisses the angel's neck and she moans. He smirks and takes her into his arms.

Comment and reblog, please <3

Fill free to send me a request!

More to come…

Comment if you would like to be tagged in the next chapter.

#gracesmusings #harry potter fanfiction #hary potter #Dark!Harry Potter #Fred Weasley #George Weasley #Weasley twins #Dark!Weasley Twins #weasley twins x reader #Harry Potter AU #fred weasely x y/n #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader smut #fred weasley smut #george weasely smut #george weasly x reader

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ravenelyx · 2 years ago

Text

I love you in every timeline - Chapter 1: My Love Is As a Fever, Longing Still

← Prologue

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Words: 14.9k

Chapter Warnings: angst, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name usage for reader (only a few blank spaces), use of 2nd person for the reader, Sebastian is confused and doesn't know how to handle his feelings, and he's also struggling with his personality, veeeeery slow burn

Summary: "He couldn't risk being emotionally stuck somewhere he didn't belong just because his heart was grieving and crying out for a memory of the girl it broke and pieced itself back together for. He couldn't do that to you. He couldn't do that to himself. He couldn't do that to her". In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: this is long, and more is to come. It's gonna be a very slow burn apparently, but I hope you will like it. Finally Chapter 1 is here, it's been a while. Also, as much as I love fanon! Draco and Pansy, I decided to follow a more canonical approach here, sorry. Again, english is not myfirst language so I'm sorry if I made any mistakes. Never am I going to write about time travel again,my brain hurts.

I also made a playlist inspired by this because why not.

You can find the whole fanfiction here on ao3

"My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, Th’ uncertain sickly appetite to please." - William Shakespeare, Sonnet 147

You weren't her.

Then who the hell were you?

You briefly smiled at Sebastian and then turned back to the red-head, squinting. "Do you have the book or not?"

Ron gulped, avoiding your eyes. "It's probably in my dorm or something... I didn't have class, so I didn't take it with me."

"In your dorm, isn't that right?" Your eyes narrowed even more if that was even possible, and Sebastian was pretty sure you were about to hex him on the spot. Your leering didn't go unnoticed by either of the two Gryffindors and Hermione’s throat bobbed ever so slightly, eyes widening a little in alert.

"Well, as I said—"

"Here," interrupted Hermione suddenly, voice slightly squeaking. She looked into her bag and extracted her own copy of Winogrand's Wondrous Water Plants. "Use this in the meantime. I take notes on the book too, unlike Ronald here, so it should compensate."

You accepted the book, seemingly calming down a bit. “Thank you, Hermione,” you said, enunciating her name sarcastically as you shot the other boy a nasty look, and Sebastian couldn't help but feel a touch of schadenfreude as Ron hung his head low, cheeks as red as his hair.

“I said I'll give it back,” said Ron, scowling. “It’s not like you need it anyway. Sprout doesn’t even make us open books!”

You politely smiled at Hermione, your eye slightly twitching at his remark, before said smile turned into a sneer as you looked at Ron again. “Then what the hell is taking you so long?"

Hermione sighed softly, dejectedly, and Ron shrinked on himself, sending Sebastian an unconfident look. But that only seemed to propel you to continue.

"And most people do open books for Herbology, my dear Ron, but I don’t expect you to know that. You’re too busy trying to find ways to whine and beg others to help your lazy ass later when they have other, more important things to do.”

Sebastian saw it happen, in a gradual, torturous slowing of time. There was something about you, in the way your lip quirked up, in the way your brows furrowed, giving life to that crease. Something that you couldn't stop, washing over you like a tsunami, drowning any possible thought of rationality and empathy. Control, in that moment, was appearance and nothing more.

He felt, for a moment, afraid; chilling his veins until goosebumps raised on his skin: a thrill, as if she was there. As if he was watching her unleash that godly power in all her beauty.

You were still, hands clammy at your sides, as he could see you open and close them repeatedly, and you weren't gloating. It was different; like that thick, foggy feeling that floods your brain when your opponent misses a step whilst casting Protego, or opens their arm a bit too much, making it easy for a well-aimed Stunning Spell to pass through, and it makes your cheeks turn red and your chest flutter, and Sebastian saw that twinkle in your eyes as you ignored Hermione’s pleading look.

The same thrill that makes his heart tug when he inevitably, nimbly raises his wand back. When the spell goes right where he intended it to go, and the deaf sound of a wand hitting the floor fills his ears.

It was that innate human side that took pleasure in pain. That part that could turn from a lambent glow into a Fiendfyre if you're not careful. Or if you really put your mind to it.

But you weren't duelling.

Sebastian wasn’t sure what to make of the way with which you were slandering your — he supposed — friend. And in front of him, too. It made him slightly tremble, his lip slightly twitch. Part of him wondered if he was invisible, part of him felt a little too alert, part of him pitied the girl in front of him.

And while it seemed Ron and Hermione were just as shocked, they had a sort of weary gleam in their eyes. And any attempt at smoothing things over was futile. Hermione feebly tried to intervene. “Oh, we don’t need to go further—”

“You see Ronald, for a Prefect you should really put some thought into the impression you’re making on new students, not to mention the one you should give of our school—” you ignored her and sarcastically gestured towards Sebastian, who felt his breath hitch at the sudden spotlight put on him, “and yet, you’re always so comfortable acting like a dimwit . Pull yourself together and be responsible for once.”

Ron’s jaw fell open, completely at loss for words at your harsh words, and he shared a look with Hermione that Sebastian was able to understand completely.

What the hell just happened?

He couldn't agree more.

“I think you’re overreacting,” said Ron sternly.

“I think you’re disrespectful,” you replied just as eagerly.

“Alright, that’s enough!” said Hermione, putting herself between the two Gryffindors. “It so happens we have a guest here!”

Sebastian felt his heartbeat quicken ever-so-slightly as both you and Ron turned to him like you had just seen him for the first time. He shifted his weight uncomfortably; an attempt to get rid of that eerie shiver that ran down his spine as your incensed gaze fell on him.

That seemed to snap you out of it, and your cheeks flushed a bit in regret. “Fair enough...” you muttered, nodding at Sebastian. “Sorry.”

He nodded back, unsure about what to do as he shifted his eyes between you and Ron, letting them linger on your face each time he looked at you. Your nose had that same curve he always wished he could kiss, run his lips over with reverence… He shook the thought out of his head immediately.

“I should receive an apology as well,” muttered Ron, and Hermione nudged his arm as a warning not to add fuel to the fire.

"You have one day. Just one." You gave Ron an ultimatum, your tone sharp and, Sebastian thought, quite frightening. He hoped to never find himself in Ron's place. “And don’t expect me to help you ever again, I'm tired of it!”

You didn’t wait for an answer and began to walk away, only stopping briefly to look at the Slytherin boy. "I wish you the best of luck, especially if he— " you glanced at Ron again "—has to be the one guiding you through this maze they call a school."

Sebastian gasped and opened his mouth to reply, but his words seemed to be stuck somewhere between his throat and his tongue. He let his eyes fleet over your face again, heart beating out of his chest as he tried to make out your features, like in a dream.

"I hope we'll meet again soon enough." You forced a smile on your face that looked almost guilty and embarrassed, and with that, you were gone.

His eyes followed you until you turned a corner and vanished from his sight, thoughts racing at a hundred miles an hour — questions with no answers clouding his mind more and more each second. Who were you? Why did you look like her? And above all, why did you bear her family name?

Even after the theatricals that he had just witnessed, there was a certain hope in his heart: traitorous and wrong. A hope that she was really there, somewhere, waiting for him. A hope he immediately wanted to crush as soon as the image of your eyes and red robes flashed in the window of his vision again.

Sebastian Sallow was utterly, completely, absolutely losing his mind.

He was aware of the gravity of his situation — his body still spasmed uncomfortably every now and then as a result of having travelled through space and time — but, Sebastian realised, it felt more like a trance. A painfully aware and too tight reverie he couldn't find a way out of. After all, just the night before, Natty had asked him if he wanted to take part in Summoner's Court with her the next day, hadn't she?

And just a few hours after that, Sebastian had decided to try his last chance, opening the artefact that, he had believed, would bring him back to a time where her sister wasn't cursed — a time he could have avoided the disaster. And not just one at that.

He took a deep breath, willing the halls of Hogwarts to become brighter in his vision, more real. He was indeed in the future, he repeated himself, his ribcage evidently too small to contain the excruciating throbbing he felt in his chest. He had to accept that. He did. Probably.

“Bloody hell!” Sebastian heard Ron mutter as he also stared at the point from which you had just disappeared. “What was all that for?”

“Honestly, Ronald…” said Hermione curtly. “We’ll deal with this later.”

Still, Sebastian felt painfully calm at his situation: the sort of calm that he only experienced when he knew he was in trouble and couldn't do anything about it, or when he knew he was in trouble and had the solution for it lying in his hands, teeming down his throat like a treacly and old pint of Butterbeer, or a briquette of ice, whipsawed by the choice of safely travelling down his stomach and melt and leave him warm and satisfied or change direction and chill his lungs and cut his breath and bring him to a freeze.

What would Sebastian, a calm and collected person (and he believed he was, or tried, at least), do in a similar situation?

Two options came to his mind, clear and painfully bright.

To freak out completely until he was in shambles on the floor, addled and ready to break himself and cut the edges of his persona to fit into the new reality he now essentially belonged to, though he still didn't feel like it.

Or estrange himself from said reality, seeing it through lenses, analysing the world around him as if he weren't there until he found a way to go back, like a spectator, a reader. And he was indeed a reader.

In a way, the very core of one was tantamount to the other — both would completely destroy him. And Sebastian Sallow could not allow himself to be destroyed. Not like this.

But then there was another, the one Sebastian desperately willed himself to adopt, keeping his edges glued to himself and the lenses away from his perfectly working eyes.

The one he followed when everyone had lost hope for Anne.

And that was any option available, and every rational thought, even if the sound of them — or anything else, really — was still drowned by the loud pounding of his heart reverberating at the thought of the girl who just flipped his world upside down.

“What did you say her name was again?” Sebastian asked the two students, his eyes never leaving the corner you had just turned.

Ron and Hermione both looked at him with surprise; Ron opened his mouth with a scowl, as if about to make a snarky remark, but Hermione interrupted him, repeating your name calmly.

That was indeed the name.

And so he tried to be as rational as possible.

“Thank you,” said Sebastian quietly, lips parted, gaze musing. “I’d forgotten that just there.”

You were her descendant, a hundred years from his time.

Sebastian couldn't remember her having any siblings or cousins who bore her surname, but if you did, you had to have received it from a male member of her family, didn't you? She couldn't possibly have given you her name unless she married someone from her own bloodline, and Merlin, he hated that thought.

Or she had married someone else and decided to keep her own surname instead, and, once again, Sebastian knew — it wasn't his first thought, of course, but certainly one that plagued his mind — that he couldn't have been the one she had married, because if one thing was true about Sebastian Sallow, it was that he'd have burned down the world just to get her to take his last name.

His thoughts circled back to her family, but try as he might, he couldn't pinpoint any related members from whom you might descend. He was starting to feel dizzy and sure to be on the brink of collapsing under the amount of information he was trying to process, but then Ron and Hermione pulled him out of his trance by starting to explain the rules of the castle, the classes to attend and some basic information about the Professors.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts changes every year; they say there's a curse on the chair or something," explained Ron, having calmed down a bit, and half-smiled, "so you won't have to see toad-face for long."

"Toad-what?" asked Sebastian absent-mindedly, his head still teeming with disjointed thoughts and meandering ideas which, Sebastian was sure of it, would never find a proper abode.

"Our new Professor. You'll see what I mean when you meet her for the first time."

Sebastian nodded occasionally as he listened to them talk about the other Professors, such as Snape, the Potions teacher, and also the Head of the Slytherin House. Ron kept going on about how annoying he was, trying not to show how much he was afraid of him. "You don't have to worry, though: Slytherins get special treatment from him," he said jokingly.

Ron, Sebastian decided then, was a nice fellow. He found himself wondering why you had reproached him so harshly. He had half-a-mind to ask, then, about your behaviour — and why both the two Gryffindors seemed to be far less surprised about it than he expected. He decided against it.

"Wait, what do you mean, she won't let you use spells?" Sebastian frowned as they talked about 'toad-face', alias Dolores Umbridge.

"She's from the Ministry," explained Hermione. "After what happened last year, we're sure they're doing everything they can to keep the school under control and make sure no lies—" she stroked the word sarcastically, "—are spread among the students.

"I'll explain everything later. We should focus on more important things, like your academic persona and your education," she added, noticing his confused expression.

She was definitely Prefect and worthy of her role too, at least if you went by the typical clichés.

The hours passed, and there wasn't a minute when Sebastian didn't think of her.

And of you.

Because the more time he spent walking, the more his rationality seemed weak and pointless.

He thought he'd go mad, her memories spoiled by your oh-so-similar but equally different features. He saw your eyes looking at him back in the Scriptorium, as she was ready to take the Cruciatus Curse rather than cast it on him. He saw a Gryffindor sitting by him in Herbology, stealing not-so-subtle glances while tending to the mandrakes. He felt like his mind was splitting in half, frustrated and embittered and close to tears as you tainted his remembrances of her.

He needed to see you again, talk to you, ask about your life, your family, your past. He needed to know every thought behind your eyes, every subtle expression towards him that could mean you recognised him, that you were her, that you remembered him, remembered your time together, that you'd follow him in all his antics, in all his mistakes, in all his choices, that your actions meant more than your words.

That you loved him as he loved you — as he loved her.

Her.

Not you.

Because he didn't need to talk to you. Because indeed your recent actions spoke louder than words ever could.

Because no matter how much Sebastian fooled himself into thinking that he wasn't alone, stuck in a world that had gone on without him for a hundred years, that she returned his feelings the way he thought she did, that somehow you'd look at him and know that she was meant for him, that you were meant for him, you weren't her . You didn't know him. You could never know him as she did, and not because he wouldn't let you in — he'd run to you even now and lay his heart open if it meant finding a faint resemblance to what it used to be — but because he couldn't allow it. He couldn't risk being emotionally stuck somewhere he didn't belong just because his heart was grieving and crying out for a memory of the girl it broke and pieced itself back together for. He couldn't do that to you. He couldn't do that to himself. He couldn't do that to her.

At that moment, Sebastian made the decision to stay as far away from you as possible.

He snapped out of his thoughts as he reached the Great Hall. He hadn't noticed that it was already lunchtime.

"Do you think Dumbledore will make a speech to introduce him or not?" asked Ron, not caring that the Slytherin boy could hear him loud and clear.

"I don't think he'd just let it go, but I hope it won't be as big as last year's," noted Hermione.

"Those were two bloody new schools, Hermione. This one must be different."

He felt like a new Honeydukes product hitting the shelves for the first time.

It turned out the Headmaster hadn't made a speech to introduce him, and Sebastian almost would have preferred it if he had, because he felt like a circus monkey sitting at the Slytherin table with a hundred eyes staring at him like he'd just broken into their home and stole a particularly rare card from their Chocolate Frogs collection. He looked around at the other tables and saw heads turning away so quickly that he was sure he would be the culprit in a mass murder with a thousand broken necks. He sighed as a girl with dark hair and green eyes sitting opposite of him handed him mashed potatoes.

"Do you want to eat or not? No one poisoned your food just because they don't know you."

Sebastian glanced at her and accepted her plate, munching his food slowly as if he didn't quite believe her.

"I'm Pansy Parkinson."

"Sebastian Sallow."

"Sallow? Never heard of that name. What's your blood status?"

He almost choked on his food at her blunt question. What kind of uncivilised conversation was this? And the way she looked at him, waiting for his answer, he knew that that question alone could decide his entire future — hopefully a short one — in that House.

"I'm a pureblood like you, I suppose," he lied, lifting an eyebrow as he blankly stared at the girl.

"I see," said Pansy, narrowing her eyes as if not fully believing him. And Sebastian knew it was probably time for him to make up a story, a lie he could tell everyone in the indefinite amount of time he was to spend among them.

He had put a great deal of thought into what wanted to tell in the past hour — he could, after all, be anyone. Anyone he wanted.

He could change his past, he could avoid his mistakes, he could pretend to be a normal boy with a normal life. He could just be.

In the end, it didn't matter, because while other people might look at him and see only a picture-perfect new student with a thirst for knowledge, he would look at himself and see the boy who tortured his friend, the boy who murdered his uncle.

They might not know, but he would.

He kept the edges tight against his body, and decided to opt for a half lie that made it easier for him to play on and not forget any details.

He told her that he wasn't from the Highlands. He told her how his parents were Professors at another magical school but died prematurely, and left him to live with his uncle, a former Auror. And he told her about his timely death as well, omitting, of course, his involvement in it.

"When he died, too, I decided to move here," he concluded simply, hiding the tremble of his lips behind a glass of pumpkin juice.

Part of him expected sympathy from her, or at least a hint of hesitation; that look he had become so accustomed to whenever people came to know about his tragic tale or something along those lines.

Surprisingly — though, for some reason, Sebastian wasn’t surprised in the slightest — Pansy Parkinson didn't seem to care at all.

"Were your parents true purebloods or filthy blood traitors like the Weasleys?" she asked instead, clearly showing where her priorities lay, and it was enough for him to know that his earlier hope that there would be no more discrimination was merely a child's prayer.

"They have magic. That's the only thing you need to know." Sebastian cut short before focusing on his food. He noticed the familiar badge on her robes and silently thanked Dumbledore for assigning him to the Gryffindor Prefects instead. At least they never judged him, not even for dwelling with time and space like a bloody idiot — though he believed he had seen a gleam of reproach in Hermione's eyes as she'd uttered the word 'misadventure .

"All right, I believe you." She shrugged.

Sebastian wasn't convinced.

Pansy nudged a boy beside her, who looked at him with his piercing grey eyes. He was pale, with sleek blond hair so light it almost looked white, and also wore a badge. He reminded Sebastian of Ominis. That must be Malfoy.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," — it hadn't been so hard to guess, though now Sebastian thought he'd rather not meet him at all — "I saw you walking around today with that skint blood traitor and that mudblood Granger. You should have been assigned to us. It's not worth it to taint your blood status by associating with such filth," he spoke venomously, a mocking tone punctuating his sentences.

Skint blood traitor. Mudblood. He was exactly like those boors Sebastian so enjoyed thrashing in Crossed Wands when they had the guts to join. Perhaps he could do the same with him — blast him with Bombarda until his hair turned black (or he went bald; any of them would do).

Sebastian didn't know why he suddenly felt like defending the honour of two people he had met that same day, but he wished he could poison his food instead.

"Maybe next time you'll be considered fit for your assigned role. I suppose all that purity didn’t take you that far this time," he replied just as rudely.

Draco Malfoy made a weird face — a mix between stunned and angry and that half smirk that had begun to creep up his face as he had expected Sebastian to agree with him, and that had died on his lips but not yet fully, and the whole thing was so comical Sebastian had to hold back a snort. Because that was not (not in a million years, no matter how many artefacts he accidentally opened) going to happen, and when Draco Malfoy realised it, he seemed to have a hard time closing his mouth back to a dignified expression.

"I'd be careful if I were you, new student. I'm a Prefect!" he threatened, squinting his grey eyes and finally gaining enough control to curl his lip into a small smirk.

Spoiled bragger, Sebastian thought.

"And what exactly are you planning to do — take points away from your own House?" replied Sebastian, smirking back, enjoying how his face turned back to that ferret-like countenance.

"We share the same dormitory. Choose your words carefully." Draco Malfoy pursed his lips, his face becoming even paler. Sebastian wondered if he had even an ounce of blood in that body of his.

"We do indeed, so I suggest you sleep with one eye open," retorted Sebastian. Part of him knew that, logically, he should have been more mature about the situation.

But Merlin, he was starting to despise the brat.

(And the other part of him was still fantasising about that Bombarda-induced vengeance).

"You think you can scare me?"

Draco Malfoy snickered, and the line of Slytherins sitting on his side began staring at the two boys with piqued interest, wondering what all the fuss was about. It was quite unusual for two Slytherins to argue so openly, and even students from other Houses had begun to turn their heads towards their direction. Two big students beside Draco Malfoy snickered, too, as if on cue. Sebastian felt a wave of repugnance at how pathetic they looked.

"Definitely not, especially when you have your guard dogs next to you." Sebastian nodded at the two students mockingly. "Tell me, does your father pay them to be by your side? They can't be that stupid to volunteer to be in your presence."

The blond appeared to want to eat him alive, while the other two took a bit longer to fully understand his words before reproducing the same angry expression. Perhaps Sebastian understood your outburst: it was indeed gratifying to pour his disdain out. Though, unlike you, Sebastian didn't feel an ounce of regret.

"All right, Draco, enough of this," interrupted Pansy with a sigh, before giving Sebastian a hateful look. "He's a blood traitor like Weasley, and he'd better take care of his priorities."

Sebastian ignored her, focusing back on his food and already dreading the idea of having to share his Common Room and dormitory with people like that. Maybe he could sleep in the Undercroft for the rest of the year. He wondered if that place still existed at all.

Strangely enough, the aftermath was quite unsatisfactory, and Sebastian felt his cheeks warm up as he realised he had indeed acted like an immature git, stepping down right at their level. He stared at his half-empty plate, abashed.

The time passing, then, felt particularly chilly under his skin.

After he felt content enough with his lunch, Sebastian stood up, ready to meet the two Gryffindors again. He faltered a little as he looked around their table, his chest squeezing as he caught a glimpse of you. And not just a glimpse.

He watched you as you engaged in a happy conversation with a red-haired girl next to you: she scarily resembled Ron, so he deduced that she must be his sister. The two Prefects sat opposite you, and on your other side was a boy with messy black hair and round glasses.

Sebastian noticed how you tried to avoid Ron's eyes, only glancing up at him through your lashes from time to time before looking back at the girl, and he wondered if you would even apologise or if you were waiting for the red-head to do so. How proud were you? How much did you care? To which length were you willing to go for the people you loved? Sebastian felt a compulsive need to know it all, a new wave of hunger right in the pit of his stomach, completely empty even after his heavy, albeit displeasing, lunch, and ready to be fed by what all he could find about you. He needed to know every last bit of information, if it was the last thing he did in that new world.

That eerie calm chilled his bones again, moderately assuaging his desire, like a glass of cold water before supper. Sebastian realised he was stuck, so he had no rush to do exactly that. He didn't need to be greedy, to devour — though the idea was tempting indeed — and to gobble up every bit of you yet. He could feast, he could savour, he could indulge in his sumptuous meal like he deserved. And then he would find his way back, satiated beyond belief.

Now that would take his edges off.

He shook his head, derailing that tingly feeling running down his lower stomach before it nestled, and averted his eyes, instead noticing that barely anyone had left the Great Hall, and he was the only Slytherin standing. He quickly walked out of the room and rested against a column, wondering if he should wait for Ron and Hermione to finish eating and meet him, or if he should just go alone.

Sebastian decided to walk to the Defence Against the Dark Arts tower, to the Undercroft, praying it would still be there, untouched by other students. When he arrived, he saw the familiar clock, and his heart swelled in fear and anticipation as he took out his wand and flourished it like he had done so many times he practically relied on muscle memory alone.

The clock hands started to turn, and he breathed a sigh of relief as a door opened to the familiar room that he considered an analogue to his house. He stepped in carefully and looked around. The furniture hadn’t moved an inch in a hundred years, still in the same position that Ominis knew by memory. He wondered about him: if he knew Sebastian would one day disappear forever only to remain stuck in the future, if he had waited for him in that same room hoping for him to come back, or if he was glad he was gone after all.

Sebastian wondered if he would ever return to his time: if Ominis and Anne had been waiting for him their entire lives, getting old without him, and if they had hoped that they would one day see him again, and then he had another terrifying thought: what if he went back yet it was too late?

What if all of his pals were much older than him once he did? What if, upon his return, he discovered Anne still suffering the effects of the curse, or worse yet, already deceased? What if Ominis had been made to return to his family, where he would have either changed into one of them or been tortured and murdered? What if she had found someone else to fall in love and share the rest of her life with, or what if the perilous journeys she was compelled to take killed her and he had not been there to save her?

"Scourgify!" he declared, pointing his wand at various objects around him to clean them, wishing he could reproduce the same effect on his mind.

Once he was done, he sat down, leaned against a column, and put his head in his hands, breathing deeply and feeling his eyes burn.

The calm had gone, replaced by pure, utter despair and panic. It had only been a few hours since he'd found himself there, confused and startled, and he knew it would be many more until he went back — if ever.

If ever.

The thought cut at his lungs like sharp glass, drawing quiet and wet sobs. He didn't know whether the artefact could ever be repaired at all. He didn't know whether he could control it enough to go back if it was repaired. For all he knew, he'd find himself in bloody Mesopotamia, if he was lucky enough to survive another travel. Or he'd get stuck between time and space, forever embedded in the threads between realities.

Based on those thoughts alone, Sebastian felt like he should be grateful to have found himself still in Hogwarts, as safe as he could be, but he wasn't.

He missed his routine, his life, his friends. He had disappointed Ominis, but he would give anything to hear his voice now, even if he yelled at him, to see Anne even if she did not want to see him, to read their old letters over and over again, to accompany her on whatever adventure she was setting out on. Heck , he wanted to hear Headmaster Black's voice scolding him for his horrible detention record, listen to Poppy ramble about her dear magical creatures, see Garreth blow up his potions, and even wanted to hear Imelda complain about Quidditch being cancelled. He missed it all.

He spent some time there alone — he did not know whether it was minutes or hours — weeping silently to himself. His wrists copiously moved to his eyes in a weak attempt to dry his tears, which kept falling nonetheless, undaunted, wetting his cardigan and shirt and skin.

Sebastian had always prided himself in his capacity to bottle up emotions, to avoid the crying and instead channelling those goopy feelings into something more useful, like studying or spellcasting. That had backfired, and Sebastian had to learn, awfully, that doing that didn't mean those emotions wouldn't force their way out in a way or another, and after what had happened in the Catacombs, where his feelings had exploded in the worst way imaginable, he had reluctantly decided that crying alone was the best way to let them flow naturally. With that and everything that had happened to him within a few weeks, not to mention the previous events, he felt overwhelmed.

He hated it.

After drying his tears as best he could, hoping that no one would notice his glistening eyes or swollen face, he decided to leave the Undercroft and find Ron and Hermione again; they were to give him his timetable, as he would join their class starting the next day. That was before he abandoned them.

He stepped out of the room and froze in his steps. You were sitting on the ground just outside, back against the wall, focused on your textbook. You looked up once you heard a noise, and saw a dishevelled and surprised Sebastian staring straight at you.

"Oh, well, hello again, new fifth-year!" You smiled politely.

He cursed under his breath, turning his face away slightly and rubbing the back of his hand under his nose again, in case any stray tears were still present.

"'Didn't know about another secret passage in the school," you continued, apparently ignoring his actions, before muttering to yourself, "It wasn't on the Map."

"Map?" he said in a rough, unfamiliar voice, surprising even himself.

You examined him, a quizzical expression on your face. "Have you been crying?" you asked bluntly, raising your eyebrows in surprise.

Great job, Sebastian. Perfect disguise.

He felt his cheeks warm up, and he turned away again. "No... not at all." He cleared his throat, trying to find a way to switch up the conversation when his eyes fell on your book. "What are you reading?"

You frowned slightly, obviously not believing him, but understanding that he wasn't willing to talk about it, and looked back at your book. "My Herbology book. Ron gave it back to me at lunch. Finally, I’d say."

Sebastian paused for a moment, unsure whether it was appropriate to ask about what happened in the corridor, but then he felt that ache again, right above his navel, and the words slipped from his mouth without restraint. "Did you two—"

"Don't." You interrupted him and averted your eyes, staring down at the cover musingly. "Don't bring it up again. That was already embarrassing as it was."

Sebastian stayed quiet, his eyes never leaving your form. He would very much have liked to just plunge into your brain at that moment and make himself at home there.

Perhaps he needed to add 'Learn Legilimency' to his to-do list.

"How so?" he asked at length, quite stupidly, he realised.

"I lost my temper," you said simply, and forced your eyes back towards him. Your next words seemed to eject out of your mouth painfully, like they were unfamiliar to you, and it took a while for you to utter them. You sighed, "I— I suppose… I owe you an apology."

An apology never felt so forced and so sincere at the same time. "Oh, you don't have to—"

"I do. It wasn't the best impression I made of myself." Your lips parted as you leaned your head back on the wall. "I suppose I have to apologise to Ron as well — properly, I mean."

Sebastian stayed quiet, observing you curiously. Why were you telling him all that? "I... suppose," he uttered, not knowing what else to say. That appeared to be enough for you because you didn't even seem to acknowledge his words.

"He was looking for you, you know? Hermione, too. They said they needed to give you your schedule."

"Ah, yes, they mentioned that before," said Sebastian, glad to change the topic. "I’ll meet them promptly then, I was—"

"—Too busy hiding in a place no one else knew about," you continued for him.

That made him still in his steps, a chill running down his spine. Your eyes met: his open wide, yours unwavering and daring him to contradict your statement.

Perhaps the previous topic was way better.

"I just..." Come on, Sebastian, think!

"I just stumbled upon it!"

Usually he was one to conjure lies out of thin air, but being around you made his brain seem to melt. Sebastian thought that it was because he didn't really want to lie to you, or perhaps it was because, with the way your eyes pierced him, he felt as if you already knew all his secrets, all his lies, and you certainly wouldn't be fooled, not even if he made up a whole story full of intricacies and chapters worth publishing.

He knew, however, that the answer was neither, and it lay deeper than anything he was willing to admit to himself so loudly that he had to face it.

"Right."

You closed your book and stood up, facing him. He couldn't read your expression properly, but he felt his body start to uncharacteristically shrivel at the intensity with which you stared him down. He was in Ron's place.

"Strange, isn’t it? how the new student suddenly stumbles upon a secret room on his first day — a room not even Fred and George know about."

You had spoken that last part quietly, as if only to yourself. In fact, Sebastian didn’t know who Fred and George were at all. And, frankly, he didn't want to. "What can I say? I’m full of surprises," he replied smoothly.

"Or full of lies." You hadn’t missed a beat.

It was frightening how easily you had switched back to the girl he had met in the corridor. And he pitied it. And he liked it. And perhaps he was a fool for liking it, and an even bigger fool for pitying it. "I didn’t know it was illegal to be in this room," he said, scowling.

"Illegal? Oh, not at all. But certainly unusual for someone who has supposedly never set foot in this school before."

You took a step towards him, and he had to fight the urge to take one back himself. There was something wrong in the air — something goopy and misty and heavy, penetrating his skin like Mallowsweet fumes, inebriating and dizzying and frighteningly close to losing control. He had only felt it once, in Hogsmeade nonetheless. Electric and impatient, but, now, shrouded. That day, it had been galvanising. Now it was almost shy — almost… veiled.

"Hermione told me that she barely only took you through the first two floors. You're not even supposed to know about the classroom's whereabouts, and yet you seem all too comfortable with your surroundings," you continued, unaware.

He felt his heartbeat accelerate. Why did you have to be so inquisitive? Was he supposed to tell you the truth now?

Dumbledore’s voice came back to his mind: "...unless it's absolutely necessary."

"I don’t know what you're talking about. It was an accident, as I said," replied Sebastian in a poor attempt to reason again, knowing full well you wouldn't believe him.

"Certainly a convenient one." He twitched involuntarily, like he had just got a shock. The corners of your lips lifted in a sneer. "You are an interesting case... Sebastian, was it?"

He nodded hesitantly and narrowed his eyes, baffled at your countenance and your confounding words. An interesting case?

You shuffled on your feet in a nimble movement and pressed your back against the wall again, leaning onto it. "Don’t forget to show me that room sometime, too."

"And why would I do that?" Sebastian was growing impatient at your behaviour, while some part of him was thrilled at your nonchalance. The more you bantered with him, teasing him like that, the more he felt his stomach flutter. He hated himself for it.

He felt a sudden urge to leave. To run to his Common Room, or back into the Great Hall, where the noise cramming his ears would be enough to shut down each and any possible much-too-loud beat of his heart, as if the mere sound of those tiny pulses would beguile him into wandering proscribed feelings. A deceit of his own body he wasn't willing to face, not even through his love of the forbidden. The hunger and ache had to stay just that: mere curiosity, more about her and her family than you.

But he stayed in the silence of the corridor, with a loud pounding noise in his ears.

"Because it would be a shame if other people in, let’s see, higher power were to know about it, too, wouldn’t it?" You moved a hand through your hair to push it back, clearing your vision, and Sebastian watched as your locks fell around your face, a twinge in his chest. "Although I do believe Professor Flitwick would love to have another room for his choir practice. Is there a good acoustic in it?" You peered over his shoulder and towards the now closed door with a playful smile, clearly only teasing him, but the way the light fell on the tresses framing your visage was a bit too familiar to him. His mind stalled for a moment, and he didn't want those beats to stop anymore.

"Why do you care about this room so much?" Sebastian shifted his weight, now taking a step forward as well, and your eyes flickered down when you perceived the movement. Your lip twitched a bit.

"Why do you?" You simply replied, shrugging. "A secret room is a secret room. Don't you want to be a proper new student and get in good with the Professors?"

Sebastian felt his stomach boil at your singsong tone. "That seems to be more of a Gryffindor trait."

"Is it? And how much does a supposed stranger know about our Houses?"

His breath hitched and his resolve crumbled immediately at your quick retort. Sebastian warmed all over and stilled in his steps, feeling a bit too heavy on his legs. The image of the girl who lost her temper in the corridor was the one he had expected to evoke, pity even, yet she was nowhere to be found as your half-lidded gaze stared at him impishly.

"Besides," you continued, clearly feeding off his reaction with increasing confidence. "You should really get to know your Slytherin peers a bit more. Hopefully you won't become like them, but alas if you do, you'll end up snitching on this place yourself."

The thrill gradually disappeared, replaced by unadulterated annoyance. He found himself lowering his head, and he glared down at you, heart pounding in his ears. Your eyes stayed unwavering in his, though Sebastian noticed your crossed arms tightening marginally around your chest. "You can only wish to be like us," he hissed.

As you lifted an eyebrow daringly, he stepped forward again, finally free of that marbly perception that had spread through his body at your mockery, and towered over you. You tilted your head up, eyes never leaving his, the red and gold making them stand out in a way that only sent a new wave of anger through Sebastian's bones.

You could only wish to be like her.

"My dream in life."

Your voice rustled softly against your teeth, stretching with the smirk you wore, daring him to retort again. Sebastian felt it spread before he could even process your words entirely, burning through his guts all the way up to his trembling hands. That hunger. Craving. Ache. And something else — something that made the corners of his mouth tingle and his head tilt forward slightly more. He inhaled deeply from his nose, breathing out gratingly, air straining against his throat.

"Shall I serve as your future proxy and tell the faculty about it now?" you continued, voice glottal and purring, faring on the satisfaction of his heavy breathing on your face. "Might save you time ahead."

A low chuckle left his lips. "Even if you told the faculty about it, I could always pretend you were the one who showed it to me and kept it a secret all this time. After all, I am the new student, aren’t I?"

He grinned to himself as your smile fell slightly, squinting as you looked at him, but it only lasted a moment before you spoke again.

"And why, pray tell, would anyone believe that I would fraternise with a Slytherin enough to show said person a secret room?" You leaned your head on the side, and Sebastian’s heart jumped again. "And why would I turn myself in, given I would have, supposedly, kept my room hidden for five years?"

"It's my room," replied Sebastian lowly, instinctually, voice slightly trembling, blood rising to his head. Despite the height difference, he was starting to feel smaller and smaller every time you spoke, crushing his resolve word by word. It made him shrivel. "I knew it before. You're not welcome in it, nor is it any of your business."

"You knew it before," you repeated blankly, like you didn't care. "So you’re admitting to having learnt about this place already?"

What?

A heartbeat, a glint in your irises, and Sebastian's heart dropped pathetically as he realised he had given you exactly what you had been searching for — what you had wanted him to admit all this time. He shifted his weight back, leaning away from you. "No, I never said—"

"—I believe the Professors know about your true history — especially Dumbledore, you can't trick that one — so I know they won’t be fooled," you continued undaunted to shut each and every one of his possible retorts. "Plus, even if you told them that lie after I snitched on this place, they’d still let it go and take control of this room — Filch in particular. I won’t get into trouble just for keeping an insignificant room secret, but you would lose your special place."

His mouth fell open, for once at a loss for words. He could only stay silent as you threatened to reveal his hidden spot with that undeterred ragging tone of yours. Sebastian would usually brush off any threat against him, especially if it involved getting the help of teachers of all people — he was known for breaking rules on any occasion — but he couldn't ignore your words. He knew you had no idea how much that room meant to him; would you have cared if he told you? Would you have taken your words back? Why would he care if you had? He had promised himself to stay away from you, and that was exactly what he was planning to do. This conversation had gone on for too long.

"Who—Who says it's my special place?" Sebastian tried to salvage it, although his disingenuous and trembling voice betrayed him almost immediately.

"You reek of dust and humidity," you said with a satisfied smile, as if insouciantly waiting to shake his hand after your checkmate. "As if you've spent a lot of time in there just now. Also, no student in Hogwarts with more than a pea for a brain would ever refuse the comfort of a secret room no one has discovered yet."

You had deduced it... by his smell?

Sebastian had still been processing when you gathered your things and looked back at him, breaking into a genuine smile. "You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, and mind you, there are a lot of them in this school, so you'd better get used to it."

The corner of his lips quirked up against his will, heart gradually slowing down again. "Well, you did just threaten me in a way."

You chuckled — an unfeigned, carefree chuckle with no malicious hint — and shrugged. "I was never going to snitch on you, that would have been incongruous. I just wanted to see how this would go."

"I don't follow," he said at length, tilting his head slightly and raising an eyebrow at that. "Were you just playing with me?"

Sebastian didn't know why he had asked. It had been quite clear since you started talking that you had only run rings around him like he was a bloody amateur. He chewed on the insides of his cheeks in chagrin. You averted your eyes with a smile still on your face, and Sebastian wasn't sure whether to feel impressed or annoyed.

"Call it an investigation." You raised your hands in surrender. "I’m no Sherlock Holmes, of course, but..."

"Sherlock who?"

"He... Never mind." You shook your head, and looked back at him for a moment, biting your lip as if facing a conundrum. You sighed. "The thing is, from your perspective my threat should've appeared empty, or unfounded, because, as you said, the Professors would have believed that I was the one who showed you the room, as a more experienced student."

Sebastian listened intently, growing more confused the more you spoke. "Wait, so—"

"So, if you had nothing to hide and had really just found out about the room, you would've been less... defensive ," you explained, and Sebastian found no contempt in your voice: it was neutral, a bit excited maybe, but not mocking — perhaps only a little condescending, he noted bitterly. "Or, more specifically, you would have been defensive about me being out of line rather than about the room itself — more annoyed , I believe, at the fact that I got all up in your personal business uninvited."

The way you spoke, with unalloyed certitude and indisputable pride — though with an almost riveting aspect in your self-assurance, if he dared to admit it — seemed almost preposterous to Sebastian.

"Also," you continued, "if you had really stumbled upon it so easily, you would've been more shocked about the fact that no one else in the school had, wouldn't you?"

That actually... Made sense.

“What if I were just a new student who had accidentally found a room,” began Sebastian hesitantly, although he couldn't stop himself from being rather dazzled — and envious. And definitely ill at ease at your aptitude at reading people — him specifically. “And had completely panicked when another more experienced student threatened to reveal me as if I had done something horribly wrong?”

You looked at him, eyes shifting between his right and left one in a sequence. “Yeah,” you finally countenanced with a blithe nod. “That would have been perfectly plausible, too.”

Sebastian’s face fell, exasperated beyond measure. He suddenly felt a wave of lassitude wash over him and let out a world-weary sigh that earned him a small smile from you.

"Just know that you don't know me as much as you think you do," he said at length.

“I don’t know you at all,” you confirmed with a bright smile. “But I definitely enjoyed this. "

You pointed between the two of you, and Sebastian faltered, following your hand with his eyes for a moment before his gaze fixed on you again. "What?"

"It's just… I didn't lose my temper this time, and... well — it was sort of... nice."

Nice. The word you had used was nice. Sebastian found it anything but that: it had been humiliating to say the least. But again, he was the loser.

"You didn't lose your temper alright," said Sebastian, looking away. "Though we may need to get even on that."

Your eyebrows lifted and you broke into a giggle. "Yeah, perhaps. Even if I'm sure I'm not as much of a smooth talker when you’re not in… well… emotional distress."

To his own surprise, Sebastian smiled back, genuinely and widely and almost tenderly, letting his chest tingle freely and a little more than needed. "So you took advantage of me."

"That I did." You nodded at him. "It’s a pleasure doing business with you." And with that, you started to walk away, leaving him stunned but smiling in the middle of the corridor.

"Ah, before I go," you suddenly added, turning around and walking backwards, and his eyes shot to you once more; "last time I saw Ron and Hermione, they were near the Grand Staircase, on the second floor. If I meet them, I’ll send them to you."

You waved at him and turned around, walking down the stairs and disappearing from his sight.

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