#fred Weasley fanfic

[lovie-bugzz]

train ride ┊fred weasley

pairing - bsf!fred x f!reader (first person pov)

summary - The train compartment had gotten a bit crowded on the way to Hogwarts, so your best friend Fred offered for you to sit in his lap. However, throughout the ride you just couldn't seem to get comfortable...

contains - smut, dom!Fred, swearing, fingering, orgasm denial, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), teasing, hair pulling, rough sex, cum swallowing

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The twins and I were laughing about something stupid that George had said as the train left the station. I lightly hit the boy in the arm, "Shut up!" I say between laughter.

After we had calmed down, Fred spoke up, "Let's go meet up with Lee and the girls." He said, referring to Alicia and Angelina. The six of us had been a tight knit group since first year, and it now being our sixth year, it was safe to say that we were all extremely close.

George and I agreed, and so the three of us began our trek down the aisles of the train, looking into each of the compartments. Once we found them, we squeezed into the small room, greeting one another.

As the three of us sat down, it began to be a tad bit cramped, with Lee and Alicia taking up the whole of one side, Fred and I had to squeeze in beside Angelina and George.

I pushed past how uncomfortable I was as Lee started a conversation, asking, "Do any of you have a clue as to what's happening at Hogwarts this year?"

"No! Mum's been going ballistic and nobody will tell us what's going on." George told them, Fred nodding along, "Yeah, it's like all the adults are keeping this giant secret."

The topic continued for about twenty minutes, everyone butting in with their own theories as the what was happening. I couldn't really pay attention as I was severely uncomfortable, being pressed in between Fred's shoulder and the window, my arms were pretty much completely constricted.

Fred glanced over at me, with a crease in his brow, noticing how squashed and uncomfortable I was, he leant down slightly to speak to me, "You alright, love?"

"Hm? Yeah, I'm fine, it's just a bit cramped in here." I told him, brushing it off. The boy chuckled lightly, shaking his head, before suddenly he pulled me up by my waist, and placed me in his lap.

I was a bit surprised at first, my eyes going wide for a split second until I let out a small sigh of relief at now finally being able to move my arms. I turned back slightly with a light chuckle and gave him a thankful nod, to which he returned with a cheeky smile.

For a while, everything was fine, I was comfortable and laughing along with the lively conversations in the compartment. But that stopped when I started to squirm a bit, causing Fred to still, letting out a quiet groan, which I didn't quite catch.

I stopped after a moment, finding a comfortable stop on his lap, making the boy let out an inaudible sigh of relief. His attention was brought back to the conversation for a mere minute before I started moving my hips again, finding my spot atop him to be growing more and more uncomfortable the longer I sat here.

One movement I made in particular had my ass digging right into his now hardening bulge. He harshly grabbed my hips, halting my movements which made me jump a bit at the sudden contact.

The boy leaned forward towards my ear, whispering lightly so the others wouldn't hear, "love, if you don't stop that, we're going to have an issue..." He said, his voice had a sudden rasp to it. The unfamiliar tone sent a shiver down my spine, my eyes widening as I realized what I had been doing, and a deep red blush settled on my cheeks.

I was glad the others weren't paying attention to us, they were too encapsulated by their own conversations.

It was an innocent mistake, I was only trying to get comfortable, forgetting that I was literally sitting on top of Fred's dick and squirming around. I turned back slightly, to look at him, as I whispered back, "Do you want me to move?" I asked, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

He rose a brow at me, a smirk on his face, "You moving is the problem, love." He joked, making me roll my eyes at him, the blush on my cheeks deepening further. He spoke again, this time with a more serious note, "I just need you to stop fidgeting so much, okay?"

He moved one of his hands from my waist to my thigh, his hand casually resting on my inner thigh, his touch causing my skin to tingle. I turned back around, "Fine..." I spoke, innocently looking out the window, making sure I didn't move anymore.

I watched the trees and landscape fly past us, but I couldn't keep the thoughts out of my head. Of what would happen if I did move again. It was definitely tempting, I bit my lip as dirty thoughts made their way into my head. But I shook them away just as quickly as they came. What was I doing? Fred is my best friend, I can't be thinking about him like this.

But on the other hand, it was tempting. So, after about another minute or two of contemplation in my head, I decided to test the waters.

Pretending like I had forgotten our prior conversation, I just slightly moved my hips against his. The boy let out a cough, as if clearing his throat, but I knew better. I stifled my smirk, before moving again, this time the tiniest bit harder. He sucked in a breath, glaring at the back of my head.

He knew exactly what I was doing, but he couldn't do anything, no matter how badly he wanted to, not with his brother and friends in the same compartment. So, he subtlety pinched my waist, as a warning, which sort of backfired on him as it only made me squirm more, my ass hitting exactly the right spot to rile him up.

I could feel it, the effect I had on him, how could I not? It was digging into my ass. The boy grit his teeth, leaning up a bit to whisper to me, "You're playing a dangerous game, love..." He spoke lowly, but I only shrugged, feigning innocence, my hips moving hard against him, making him groan as I turned to give him a smug smile, "I don't know what you're on about." I say simply, turning back around and making sure my movements stayed completely still.

Fred chuckled lowly, throwing his head back against the seat, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. He was clearly frustrated that I stopped, and I couldn't help but smirk in satisfaction.

About five minutes had gone by, I was so busy basking in glory that I almost missed how Fred gripped my hips and stood us up.

"We're going to go find the trolley. Do any of you want anything?" Fred spoke, asking the others. I was confused by this, but didn't make any move to protest as I was too focused on how hard the boy behind me was grabbing my hips.

Everyone shared a glance before Lee spoke, "No, we're good."

Fred nodded before moving us forward and pushing us out of the compartment and letting the door slide closed behind us. He loosened his tight grip on my hips, but kept them resting there as he pushed me forward to walk down the corridor.

I had no doubt in my mind that he was keeping me so close in front of him to hide his boner. I let a smug smile wash over my face at the situation, but it was quickly washed off my face as my arm was suddenly being tugged into the bathroom. I gasped as Fred pulled us into the small room, slamming the door shut, locking it and then proceeding to push me flush against it.

I stared up at him with wide eyes as he towered over me, the dark look in his eyes making me squirm against the door. He rested his arms on either side of me, effectively trapping me in place between him and the door. He leaned in close, his nose almost touching mine, his eyes roaming hungrily over my face.

"You didn't think you were actually gonna get away with that did you?" The boy asked. "You think you're so clever, don't you? Playing with fire like that, teasing me in the train compartment with our friends around."

I couldn't answer, my words failing on me as my mouth opened and closed like a blubbering fish.

Fred smirked at my reaction to his intense gaze. He pressed his body more firmly against mine, leaving me no escape. His hands moved from the door to my hips, keeping me in place, his grip tight enough to leave slight indents on my skin from his long fingers. He rose a taunting brow at me, "Cat got your tongue, love? You were quite the little minx a few minutes ago. What happened?"

I was in such a state of shock, not knowing what to say, my cheeks were burning. As soon as he had pulled me into the bathroom all of my confidence went down the drain. The way he was looking down at me hungrily, his lust filled eyes staring into my soul, it made my knees weak.

Fred chuckled low in his throat, noticing the effect he was having on me. His smirk turned into a sly grin, his eyes drinking in the sight of my flushed cheeks and the way my body was practically trembling against his.

"Not so cocky now, are you? Just a few minutes ago you were teasing me to no end, knowing exactly what it would do to me. But now..." He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above my ear, his voice dropping to a low, sultry whisper. "Now you're trembling beneath my touch, and it's driving me mad."

His hot breath fanning over my ear made me let out a shaky breath, I turned my head slightly to look at him. "Fred..." I breathed out, my eyes flickering down to his lips as I bit down on my own. The air in this small bathroom was thick, I felt like I couldn't breathe.

Fred's eyes darkened as he watched my gaze linger on his lips. His gaze zeroed in on my biting down on my own lip, a sight so tempting that it took all his self-control to not attack my mouth in that very moment. He chuckled softly, the sound rough and filled with desire.

"Say my name again." He commanded, his voice a low, gravelly whisper, as he moved his face closer to mine, his breath mingling with mine in the cramped space between us. He smirked, loving the effect he was having on me. He thrived off of it.

I did as he said, breathing out his name once more, "Fred..." I was getting desperate, I needed him to do something.

Fred's eyes darkened with desire as he heard me say his name again, the tone of my voice making his self-control waver even more. He smiled slightly, enjoying the power he held over me in this moment. He knew I wanted him to do something, but he wasn't going to give in that easily. He loved having me at his mercy, the look of want in my eyes making him feel powerful, and making him want me even more.

"You want something, love?" He asked, his voice low and seductive, as he took a piece of my hair and delicately placed it behind my ear.

I nodded, "Mhm." I hummed out, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. My desire for him was clouding my head.

Fred smirked down at me, the look in my eyes fueling his arrogance and ego. He slowly moved a hand from my waist to my chin, his fingers gently gripping it and tilting it up slightly, forcing me to maintain eye contact with him.

"Use your words, love. Tell me what you want, and maybe I'll give it to you." He teased.

"I want..." I trail off, my voice failing on me. I cleared my throat, looking up at him, "I want you to kiss me."

Fred was consumed by desire and need, the moment I uttered those words he couldn't hold back anymore. He practically lunged at me, capturing my lips in a rough and needy kiss, full of pent-up passion and desperation. My arms went to circle around his neck, but before I could, he quickly took hold of my wrists, pinning them above me with one hand, holding them firmly against the door.

I let out a gasp at the action, which he took full advantage of by plunging his tongue into my mouth, exploring every inch of it, tasting me, claiming me as his own. His free hand wandered down my body, tracing every curve and contour, making me moan around his tongue.

Fred swallowed my moan, the sound only adding to his hunger and desire. He was intoxicated by me, my gasps and sighs fueling his need to have all of me. He continued to explore my body with his hand, each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

He broke the kiss, panting slightly, only to attack my neck with his lips and tongue, nibbling and sucking at the sensitive flesh, determined to leave his mark on me.

"Oh, fuck..." I whined as I felt him bite down on my neck, turning my head slightly to give him better access. My arms squirming in his tight hold.

Fred continued his assault on my neck, he released a low growl, his hold on my wrists tightening as he felt me squirm beneath him, clearly enjoying my reaction to his touch. He nipped and sucked, leaving behind a trail of red marks on my neck.

I shivered as he blew cold air over the tender skin, before speaking into my neck, "You're so sensitive."

I couldn't respond, too caught up in the pleasure, but my eyes suddenly widened as I felt his fingers start playing with the waistband of my pants, running against the skin of my lower stomach. I bit my lip in anticipation, and I could feel Fred smirking against my neck when he noticed.

His fingers continued to toy with the waistband of my pants, occasionally slipping beneath it, teasing the sensitive flesh of my stomach, but not going any further than my panty line. I squirmed in his hold, getting impatient.

He broke away from my neck for a moment to look down at me, and the look in his eyes was pure desire and hunger. "You're so pretty like this, love." He whispered, his voice rough with need.

I continued to squirm in his hold, the way he was still holding my arms against the door was maddening. "Please, Fred... Touch me, please." I whined, desperately.

Fred only chuckled evilly, "Why should I, love? You been teasing me all day, testing my patience." He taunted, his fingers continued to toy with the waistband of my pants, occasionally dipping below the fabric, only to slide back out again, teasing me.

"I'm sorry... I won't tease you anymore, just please. I need it." I pleaded, pushing my hips closer to him. The way his fingers were brushing just above where I needed him was making me even more desperate with desire.

His hand moved from my waistband to my hip, gripping it tightly and forcing me back onto the door. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above mine, his words a hot whisper against my mouth. "You're a needy little thing, aren't you? Begging for me like this."

I let out a whimper, nodding at his words as my head rolled against the door. "What do you want, love? Tell me what you need. I want to hear you say it." He said, his voice low and sultry.

"Your fingers. I need them inside of me." I answered, making him chuckle from my blunt response.

"Is that so, hm?" He murmured, his hand trailing away from my hip and moving between my legs to rub me through my pants. I whined at the sensation, finally getting some friction. "You want my fingers, do you? You want me to make you feel good, make you cum?"

I couldn't help but moan from his words, that combined with how he was touching me sent heat over my body. I nodded again, "Yes, please."

"That's a good girl, using your words and asking nicely. I like that." He teased, his fingers moving up to unbutton my pants, pulling them slowly, exposing more of my skin. He began trailing his fingers over the top of my panties, his touch was light and teasing.

He leaned in closer, his lips grazing my ear, as he whispered, "Are you wet for me, love?"

I shivered, nodding my head, "So wet, just for you, Fred." I told him, my arms squirming in his hold once more, I wanted to touch him so badly.

He chuckled darkly at my unsuccessful attempts to break free of his grip, he only tightened his hold on my wrists. He could feel how much I wanted to touch him, but he wasn't done making me a needy mess just yet.

"Is that so?" He whispered, his voice thick with desire, as his fingers slipped beneath the fabric of my panties, gently touching my bare skin, feeling just how aroused I was.

My breathing stuttered as his fingers trailed over my wetness, spreading it over my throbbing clit, causing me to moan loudly. Fred smirked in satisfaction at the sound of my moans, he loved how I was reacting to his touch, how he was reducing me to a moaning mess with just his fingers.

"Shhh, love. You're being too loud. You don't want anyone to hear us, do you? I don't think you want everyone to know just how needy you are for me, how desperate you are for my touch." He whispered, continuing to tease me, his fingers rubbing and circling over my bundle of nerves.

I nodded, biting my lip to stop myself from being too loud, but that went down the drain as I felt him slip two fingers inside of me. I practically screamed at the force with which they entered me. "Fuck!"

Fred chuckled as my reaction to his fingers entering me, it was louder than he initially thought, he quickly dropped his hold from my wrists and moved his hand to cover my mouth, effectively muffling my scream into a mewl.

"Shhh, love. You really can't keep quiet, can you?" He teased, his voice thick as he continued pumping his fingers inside me at a fast pace.

I moaned against his hand, my own hands that were finally free gripping onto his wrist that was moving inside of me. My eyes rolling back in my head as I felt him add a third finger, stretching me out.

"Oh, fuck, love. You're fucking swallowing my fingers." Fred groaned out, curling his fingers inside me, hitting that perfect spot that had that familiar coil in my stomach forming.

I was so close, and I knew he could tell by the way I was clenching around his digits. My breathing was coming out ragged, I was panting against his hand as he continued to hit my g-spot over and over again. My orgasm was right there, I was tipping over the edge until suddenly, Fred took his fingers out of me.

I let out a squeal in protest against his hand, but Fred only chuckled at me, as he dropped his hand from my mouth, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Why... Why did you stop?" I panted out, watching as he placed his three fingers that were dripping in my slick in his mouth, sucking me off of them.

He hummed around his fingers, pulling them out of his mouth with a pop, I stared at him in shock as he responded, "Oh, now, love. You didn't think I was going to let you finish just like that, did you? Not after how naughty you've been all day." He teased, a smirk on his lips.

I let out a huff, throwing my head back against the door, frustrated from being denied my release. But my ears perked up as I heard him undoing his belt, making me look back at him.

"Patience, love." He said, undoing his belt and quickly unzipping his pants. "Good things come to those who wait, remember?" He taunted me, slowly letting his pants fall to the ground, and stepping out of them, leaving him in his boxers.

I stared down at the obvious tent, the one that I had created, I bit my lip watching as he paced towards me, pulling me toward him and kissing me hard.

The kiss was more rough and needy than our previous one, we were breathing heavily into it, devouring each other. My hands trailed into his hair, as his trailed down and squeezed my ass, and I moaned as I felt his hard on press against my lower stomach.

In one swift movement he broke the kiss, turning me around and bending me over the sink. He ran his hands over my back, before harshly pulling my underwear down my legs. His hands ran possessively over my hips.

I looked over my shoulder at him, watching as he pushed his boxers down, freeing his length, my eyes widened at the size. "Shit..." I muttered out.

Fred smirked at my reaction, "See something you like, love?" He teased, making my eyes snap up to meet his gaze.

"You're... So big." I spoke, almost cringing at myself, but I couldn't help it. Fred chuckled at my bluntness, he loved how I was so honest and open with my words, not like most girls he'd been with.

"Don't worry, love. I'll make you feel good." He reassured me as his hands stroked my thighs, moving up and down my skin in a soothing motion.

I bit my lip, nodding my head, the way he could be so rough with me one second, and the next be so comforting was making my head dizzy.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?" He murmured as his hands slowly moved higher up my thighs, nearing my bare core. I shivered at his words, his touch making me more needy.

He bent down slightly, placing a kiss on my hip before he went back up, spreading my legs a bit more and started lining himself up with my entrance, running his dick through my wet folds, making me whine.

"You ready?" He asked, to which I nodded, but that seemed to not be good enough because Fred gripped my hip tightly, "No. I need a yes." He growled, as I let out a shaky breath.

"Yes..." I responded, making him smirk.

"Good girl." He praised, before slamming into me, instantly bottoming out, making me scream out his name, "Fuck, Fred!"

My hands gripped tightly onto the edges of the sink, the boy behind me panted heavily as he began to relentlessly pound into me, "Oh, fuck. So fucking tight, love." He spoke, his words adding to the amount of pleasure I was in.

The sound of our skin slapping together, our heavy breathing and moans filled the small bathroom, if anyone walked passed the door they would have no doubt about what was going on in here. "Feel good, love?" Fred questioned, but I could only moan in response.

Fred growled at this, his hand roughly latched onto my hair, pulling me flush against his chest, speaking lowly in my ear, "Huh? I asked you a question."

"Yes! Yes, feels so- Fuck- So good!" I stuttered out, my eyes rolling in the back of my head. The way he pulled on my hair was intoxicating, it was painful, but the pleasure it gave me completely overpowered it.

His free hand trailed up the front of my shirt, pushing it up over my bra, before pushing that up as well. He squeezed my boob in his hand, lightly pinching my nipple, making me whimper.

"Yeah? You like how I fuck you, don't you? You're taking me so well." He praised, his hips stuttering a bit, so he took his hand away from my boob, pulling out for a moment to grab my thigh and rest it atop the edge of the sink.

After he readjusted me, he pushed my back down again, still keeping his strong grip in my hair, before thrusting back into me. "Yes!" I moaned out, the new angle allowing him to hit my g-spot, and his balls to slap my clit repeatedly.

I knew if he kept up this pace I wasn't gonna last much longer, plus I was still a bit sensitive from him denying me my orgasm before. "Fuck, this pussy is all mine." He groaned, his voice hoarse.

"Yes! Oh, fuck it's yours! All yours!" I said in between moans. I was a mess, beginning to clench tightly around him as I felt myself nearing release.

Fred moaned as he felt me squeezing him, "You close, love? Gonna cum?" He taunted, picking up his pace, which I wasn't sure was even possible.

"Yes! So close." I said, my voice cracking.

"Cum then, cum all over my cock." Fred commanded. It didn't take long after his words for my release to wash over me, my eyes rolled back as I let out a guttural moan, my legs shaking as he continued to pound into me, letting me ride out my high.

I felt Fred twitch inside of me before he spoke, "Shit, shit..." He moaned, swiftly pulling out of me, "On your knees." He demanded, his voice low and authoritative. I instantly complied, moving off the sink and getting on my knees in front of him, "Open your mouth for me, love." He said, prompting me to listen, I opened wide, staring up at him as he jerked off above me.

He groaned at the sight of me below him, throwing his head back, as he hovered his tip over my tongue, "You look so good down there." He said, before letting out a guttural moan, and releasing in my mouth.

I moaned as his cum shot out onto my tongue, the salty taste making me hum in pleasure. "Fuck..." He trailed off, his hand slowing on himself as he milked himself dry.

I closed my mouth, swallowing his seed, making him stare down at me darkly, before harshly pulling me up to my feet. "Such a good girl for me." He praised once more, holding my cheek in his hand before pressing a gentle kiss to my lips.

As he pulled away, he gave me a loving look, "Was that okay, love? I didn't go to hard did I?" He asked, making my heart melt. "No, that was... Perfect." I told him, it still baffled me how he could be so rough and dominant and then switch to being so caring and comforting.

He chuckled, "Good." He said, moving away from me to pull his boxers back up and put his pants on. As he did I adjusted my bra and pulled my shirt down, before bending down as well to put my own pants on, but I stopped short when I felt the sudden pain in my legs, making me wobble a bit.

"Woah." Fred spoke, going forward and grabbing my waist to steady me, "You alright?"

"Yeah... My legs just hurt a bit." I told him. Fred smirked at that, making me shoot him a glare, and lightly slap him on the chest. "Shut up."

He rose his hands in mock surrender, "I didn't say anything." I just shook my head at him, trying to bend down again, but he stopped me, "Let me help you."

I watched him as he bent down, slowly pulling up my underwear, then my pants, even buttoning them for me. I gave him a smile as he stood back up, and pecked my lips. "Thanks."

"For what? The sex, or helping you put your clothes back on?" He joked, making me roll my eyes. "Fred." I warned him, making him chuckle. "Okay, okay. I'll stop." He said, as he buckled his belt, while I adjusted my hair, trying to make it look like Fred's hands weren't just gripping and tugging on it a few minutes ago.

"Do you think they'll know?" I asked, making him look at me. He glanced down at my neck, specifically the hickeys that littered every inch of my skin. He stifled his smirk, "Considering the amount of hickeys I left on you... No, they'll have no clue." He said, sarcastically.

I groaned before we both looked at each other, and instantly broke out into laughter. This was definitely not how I thought this day would go when I woke up this morning, but I couldn't complain.

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masterlist

[nottsangel]

Imagine being cuddled up in the common room with Fred on a stormy night. The fire is lit, all your friends are sat around just telling stories and reminiscing on summer and all the fun things they’ve been doing recently. You and Fred have not long been together and he can’t keep his hands off of you, under the blanket this big hand is caressing your inner thigh, inching higher with each pass as you quietly whimper into his shoulder. Would he be bold enough to silently make you cum as everyone sits around the common room chatting?

OHHH BUT HE WOULD… HE WOULD… fred is the biggest tease everrrrr. he fucking loves seeing you get all shy as his hand moves higher and higher up your leg, causing him to smirk mischievously. he’d lean in, planting soft kisses on your neck as he rubs your aching clit over your already soaked underwear, whispering into your ear.

“as much as i love hearing your cute moans, you really have to keep quiet darling, or everyone will be able to hear you.”

you can practically hear him smirking before his fingers move to your dripping hole, gently slipping two fingers deep inside of you. you instantly bite your lip to suppress any moans, your teeth drawing blood while you try to maintain a pokerface as much as possible.

“so wet already, hm? such… a naughty girl.”

“fred— oh my god”

“i know, sweetheart, i know.” he coos as he curls his fingers inside of you, the tip of his digits rubbing against your sweet spot. you’re so close to coming already— so fucking close. your eyes flutter shut as you wait for him to stop. because he would, right? he wouldn’t make you cum in front of everyone… right? oh, you were so, so wrong, and you quickly realise that when your orgasm washes over you, causing you to dig your nails into his arm as your eyes roll to the back of your head. “that’s it, darling. such a good girl.”

ੈ♡˳

[desideriumwriter]

Metamorphosis | F.W. x Reader

Summary: Fred has been acting differently since he got hurt during the War. You're not sure how many more of his outbursts you can handle.

CW: established relationship, mentions of a head injury, TBIs, migraines, blood, being cut from broken glass, yelling, arguing, crying, not proofread

WC: 4.3k

A/N: now this one is a rollercoaster

based off this request! | f.w. masterlist | navi

Things had been difficult since May.

Voldemort was dead and the war was over. But everyone was dealing with the aftermath.

Things were quiet for a while, people were quiet. Distant but united at the same time. It took a few months for everyone to try and go back to normal.

Now it was November, and Fred was still dealing with the aftermath.

Of course, a head injury from being hit with a spell and a literal stone wall falling on him would have its long-term effects. You’d already read the list over who knows how many times.

Memory loss, light sensitivity, aggression, problems with multitasking, communication issues, irritability, mood swings, forgetfulness, etc. The list went on and on, you hated how long it was. 

You did research on it, listening to his doctors and picking up as many books you could find on head injuries or TBIs.

You even got your hands on some textbooks that muggle medical students used.

George and you took care of Fred after he came back to your shared space above the shop. He spent his first week after being discharged from the hospital at his mums, due to Mollys demands.

Things slowly went back to normal after a few months. Most things.

Shops reopened all along Diagon Alley, including the twins, people felt safe to go out and chat with each other again. 

Life went back to how it was before the war began.

The cold weather was getting harsher and so was Fred. 

You knew that the irritability and mood swings would come along with the injury. You just weren’t expecting it to be so constant.

Fred had his bad days and he had his better days. Today was one of those bad days.

You could tell he was really struggling remembering what was in stock and what needed to be made more of. You sat with him at the counter as he wrote down on a notepad what was needed. Taking notes was one of the things that helped him nowadays.

You saw him look up, the cogs attempting to turn in his head.

“Peruvian Darkness Powder.” You said softly, it was the next thing that needed to be restocked.

“Right. That. Thanks.” He muttered out, crouching over to write it down, his hand shaky and handwriting a bit wobbled.

Frustrated with his shaky hands, he threw the pen down, putting his head in his hands, rubbing his face.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard. I feel like I can’t properly do anything.” He groaned, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Fred, it's what the symptoms of a-”

“I know it’s a fucking brain injury. I’ve heard it enough goddamn times. You don’t need to spell it out for me.” Fred spat out, ripping his hand from yours and walking past you. That was the fourth time he snapped at you today.

After closing that night, you sat on the bench right outside the shop. Elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands.

You were really trying here. Trying your best not to get mad at him, to yell and spit at him as he did you.

He was still your Fred that you loved. He was just a bit different now, and that was okay, he was still your Fred.

The door to the shop opened, the silly tune of the charmed bell playing as a tall figure stepped out. Fred stood to the side of you now, his frame blocked out the light shining on you from the street lamps. The only light now being from the inside of the shop, illuminating his and your face once you looked up.

You breathed in deep, closing your eyes for a second, trying to keep any tears from falling. The cold wind wasn’t helping.

“Hi.” He gave you a shamefaced smile.

George had definitely scolded him and told him to apologize once you went outside. It’s not the first time he’s made him do it in recent times.

“Hi.” You sighed.

“I’m- I didn’t mean to snap at you when you were trying to help me with what needed to be restocked, or when you offered to sort the mail.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling small. The feeling had become constant for him now.

“And before both of those, when you snapped at me in your office. Then in front of one of the cashiers.”

“I did?” He said softly, genuinely shocked. You nodded, brows knit together.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize. I don’t even remember that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so harsh.” Fred looked down, having the same expression as a kicked puppy.

“It’s okay, Fred. I know you don’t mean to.” You slowly nodded.

“I’m trying to not be so rude. I’m trying to be better, I promise.”

“I know, Fred. I know.” You sniffled.

The doctors said practicing patterns would help with cognitive ability. Patterning. So stocking the purple and orange mystery boxes in a pattern would be Fred’s practice.

He began to practice different patterns:

Purple. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

Then moved onto a bit more strange ones:

Purple. Purple. Orange. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat. 

He was struggling a bit more than usual today, you watched as he did, and it broke your heart.

You sighed as you put your notepad away, pausing writing down the grocery list for now and making your way over to Fred.

You reached out, putting the next correctly colored box on the shelf for him. He grumbled out a ‘thanks’.

“I can do the rest for you. Go give your brain a break.” You breathed out a laugh, trying to be lighthearted as you picked up the large box filled with the remaining mystery boxes to be put away.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”  Fred mumbled out, paying you barely any mind.

“Fred, I can tell your stressed enough just let me-“

“Will you piss off? I said I've got it!” Fred didn’t mean to yell, especially in the middle of a busy store, he was just frustrated. 

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment and anger due to all the staring eyes of confused customers looking at the both of you.

“Fine, fucking do it yourself then.” You shoved the box into his hands. Walking off, pissed off as you threw off your hat onto the counter.

George murmured your name as you walked by, trying to put a hand on your shoulder, you shoved out his grasp.

You hid away in the back stockroom. George followed, entering a tiny bit after you.

You sat on a wooden box, leaned over with your head in your hands. 

“You know he doesn’t mean it. He got blasted pretty hard, it’s just one of the side effects.” George sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You were so tired of those two words. Side effects. Yes, of course you knew what the side effects and symptoms were, that they wouldn’t be pretty or easy. But you were just so sick of hearing it.

You shrugged, lifting your head up.

“He's frustrated. With himself.” George sat down next to you, intertwining his hands into a ball. “He always feels bad after he gets angry.”

“I know, and I’m trying my best to help him out but it’s like he never fucking wants it. He refuses.”

“He’s never liked help, always wanting to be so damn independent and stubborn.” George let out a weak chuckle and shook his head. “It took him five minutes to accept the money Harry gave us. Even after that he tried to tell Harry he’d give it back if he changed his mind.”

“I remember, I was there.” You smiled a bit to yourself at the memory, Fred was so adamant about Harry keeping the money, or at least most of it.

“Chocolate?” He pulled a small bar off one of the shelves, you shook your head. “It’ll make you feel better.” You persuaded, you let out an amused sigh and took it.

“You stole that line from Lupin.” Unwrapping it and biting off a small chunk.

“Yeah, but it works doesn’t it?” You let out a defeated nod and smile in response, taking another bite.

“He’s not gonna be like this forever. You know that. He’s gotten a lot better since May. Just, his moodiness will stick around for a little bit.”

“I know. I’m just so worried about him. I can’t help it.”

George was at Angelinas for the night. It took him ten minutes to stop worrying and finally go, constantly reminding you if you needed his help with Fred, if Fred starts getting mean, to send him an owl and he’d come back immediately. You shooed him off and assured him Fred and you would be fine, that he should go have a worry-free night with Angelina.

It was going well, you watched a short movie and shared some snacks and cuddles on the couch. It was all going so nicely until you both decided to get changed and go to bed.

You slipped on a night shirt talking to Fred about the movie as he opened the top drawer on the wooden dresser. The one that creaked and occasionally jammed from time to time. 

Tonight was one of those times.

He pulled out a pair of pajama pants from the drawer, his eyebrows knitting together when he pushed the drawer and it barely moved. You looked over and frowned disappointedly.

“It’s stuck again.” You sighed, thinking out loud. 

“I know.” Fred muttered out under his breath, you didn’t catch it.

You watched as he repeatedly tried to push it, it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s just old, maybe tomorrow we could go window shopping for a new one?” You suggested sweetly as he didn’t respond, he just clenched his jaw as he continued trying to close it.

He used a terrifying amount of force as he slammed the drawer shut with one last push, causing the whole thing to ratter. The sudden movement and sound made you jump. You took a step back, Fred noticed. His expression faltered for a moment as his eyes scanned your body language.

“What, are you scared of me or something now?” He muttered, an attitude in his voice.

“No, I never said I was scared of you. You just…”

 “What? I’ve just what?” 

You were so sick of his attitude. You took in a deep breath before speaking.

“You’ve been acting up, you’ve been slamming doors, throwing things down when you’re frustrated, you yell more. At George and I especially. You’re unpredictable.” You let out quickly.

“Unpredictable? I have not been that bad. You’re dramatic.” Fred shot back, he was a bit hurt by your words, yet deep down he knew you were right. His actions had become surprising. But he was too damn stubborn and he was in the middle of a beginning argument, so he wouldn’t admit to it now.

“I’m not, you’re proving your point with how you’re being now. You’re being stubborn and defensive. You get angry and you yell at me. When I’m just trying to help! The doctors said-”

“I don’t give a shit what the fucking doctors told you! Or those stupid books you’ve been wasting your time on!” All this yelling hurt his head. But the words were spilling out his mouth like a waterfall of poison. 

“Have you considered your not being any help? If you really wanted to help you’d let me do shit myself instead of acting like I’m fucking stupid! You wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around me! You’d let me be instead of being a pounding in my head!” His chest heaved, his face slowly being filled with regret as he saw you. Taking a step back with the most painful stare at him, astonishment and hurt written all over your face.

He watched as you brought your arms up around you, holding yourself as if it was a way of shielding yourself from his words.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Your voice went soft. A small crack in your delivery of words as you rubbed your upper arm.

“No! Absolutely not! I just- I’m-” Here comes the sputtered out apologies, the regret filling him up immediately, you just shook your head.

“Forget it, I’m done with this conversation.” You barged out the room. That look never leaving your face, it will haunt him forever.

“Where are you going? I thought you were going to bed?” He called out as you went down the hallway.

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” You shouted back, more of a loud mutter really. Fred said your name disappointedly, leaning against the bedroom door frame. You didn’t respond, you didn’t turn around, you made your way to the couch.

He didn’t run after and stop you. Knowing you’d give him the silent treatment and refuse to get in the same bed as him. For tonight only. Hopefully.

Though you tried to muffle and hide your sobs behind your hands, Fred could still hear it all the way from the bedroom. Those pained sharp breaths in that turned into wheezes, the little hiccups and whimpers of sadness you made when you breathed out were far too loud to be hidden.

You cried for two hours until you finally got a grip of yourself. Getting up and going down the hallway, not to get back in bed, but to see if Fred was.

You peeked your head in just enough to see his side of the bed, he was laying on his back peacefully, his eyes puffy. Had he been crying also?

He was relaxed now though, resting. At least he was getting some sleep. You quietly sneaked back to the living room. Lying back down on the couch and using a throw pillow for your head. 

You couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t keep your eyes shut, couldn’t stop thinking, you couldn’t sleep. You missed him, you really just wanted to be next to him.

By the time the clock ticked to 2AM, you got up, tiptoeing back into the bedroom. Sneaking to your side of the bed, so carefully pulling back the sheets. You moved so carefully, so lightly, so gently as if everything was made of fine china. 

You debated if you should snuggle up to Fred, not wanting to wake him. What if he got annoyed again? You really didn’t want to deal with another conflict.

You carefully scooted over to him anyways, testing your luck. You slowly wrapped your arm around his torso, ever so lightly laying your head on his chest. He began to move and your body immediately tensed up.

His arm hooked around you, circling your waist, the other arm reaching over, his hand softly placed on the side of your head. Your body went limp in happiness. You could start crying again from all the joy you felt in this moment.

This is how you knew Fred hadn’t become a whole other person than the one you knew before the accident. His hands on you, holding onto you so sweetly, just like he used to. There were still those little remnants of his true self hanging around. He was still Fred. He was still your Fred.

You woke up to an empty bed. The sunlight shining down on Freds side of the mattress.

You changed into more presentable clothes, hearing the chatter from downstairs and knowing the shop was open. 

Going downstairs, Fred was nowhere to be seen while George was moving around helping customers and constantly casting spells to organize things.

Owning a joke shop was absolutely not a one man job.

“Where’s Fred?” You asked, looking around as you approached the counter. George was stacking cards. 

“In his office. Another migraine.” He tucked in his lips, seemingly annoyed.

“Oh. Well, I’m gonna go out, probably window shop. Do you need anything?”

“Could you get some cabbage? And a few more quills and ink? We’re running low.” He said, swiveling his way out from behind the counter.

You may have stayed out longer than you meant to.

Thinking you’d be back before five, you got home at nearly eight instead.

You did some looking around in local furniture shops, and you picked up what George asked for. You mostly just walked around the quieter streets, needing to get away from all the noise.

By the time you got back it was a bit dark outside and there was a closed sign on the shop door. You unlocked and locked it quickly, moving upstairs tiredly.

The living room light was turned off, the moonlight from outside being the only thing that made the room somewhat visible. Fred was sitting on the couch.

“Hey.” You spoke softly. 

“Hi.”

“Where’d George go?”

“He stopped by Angelina’s for dinner.” He said blankly. Everything felt so awkward.

“Oh. Have you eaten?” You asked as you set down the bags of supplies.

“Yeah, I had some leftovers.”

“Okay, well, what’re you doing in the dark? Get some light in here.” You giggled as you flipped up the light switch, overhead light brightening up the room.

Fred quickly scrunched his eyes closed with a pained expression, he put a hand up to shadow his face.

Fuck. Light sensitivity. He was already dealing with a migraine, that’s why he was in the dark, and you turning on the light made it much more intense.

“Shit. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You blurted out as you hit the switch down, the room going darker again.

“Here, I’ll- I’ll get you a glass of water.” You sputtered out, running over to the kitchen sink and grabbing a glass, filling it up with cold water from the tap.

“No, you don’t have to.” Fred muttered out.

“Please, it’ll help. Just let me help.” You pleaded as you ran back over to the couch, sitting down and holding the glass towards him. He denied it again.

“Fred, just drink-“

“I told you! No!” He shouted, pushing your hand away.

The glass slipped out of your grasp. Hitting the floor and cracked into pieces, somewhere in the impact a small shard hit your lower leg. Nothing serious, it could be quickly closed up with a spell, but it was bleeding heavily already.

Fred realized what had happened once you felt the stung and winced, holding a hand over your small injury, crimson staining your hand and dripping onto your sock.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He panicked as he straightened up, patting his sides for his wand, he had left it in his office. He saw yours on the coffee table.

“Here, let me fix-” He reached one hand towards your wand, the other laying on your shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s fine, I’ve got it.” You said as you reached across, grabbing your wand and leaned your shoulder away from his touch.

His stomach twisted, the guilt was eating him up. He fidgeted with his fingers, not knowing what to do with his hands now that you refused his touch and his help.

You said a quick spell, the cut swiftly closing, skin looking unharmed and the only evidence of what happened being the remnants of drying blood on your leg and hand.

“I’m gonna go wash off my hands.” You said so quietly, almost a whisper. Fred stayed silent as he watched you get up and walk away, he wanted to cry.

You returned to the living room with a packed suitcase, quickly walking past Fred on the couch and to the chimney. His eyes stayed glued on you the entire time. You didn’t look at him.

“You’re leaving?” Freds brows knit together in a sad way, he sat up straight from his spot on the couch.

“Yeah. Not for long. I’ll be back.” You spoke, back facing him as you put down your small suitcase.

“Where?”

“A friends place. For a few days.” You didn’t tell him who, he would most likely send letters apologizing.

George was the one who suggested it surprisingly. Once he came home as you were washing off the blood, he told you to go take a few days to yourself.

“No offense to you, you’ve been doing great. But I’ve lived with him for nearly twenty-six years. I know how to deal with him when he’s mad.” He held your shoulders.

“I know how to deal with him too, you know.” 

“Of course I do. But I know you’re worn out as well. You need to take some care of yourself. Focus on you for a few days.” You really didn’t want to agree with George on that, it felt rude to do it. There was really no good way of saying he was wearing you down.

“I’m sorry.” Fred spoke out.

“I know, Fred.” You let out a heavy breath. “I’m not mad at you. I think we should take a break from each other.” You tried not to let your voice wobble.

“You don’t mean a break up, right?” He stood up from the couch.

“No. Of course not.” You finally turned around, looking at his gloomy face. “We just need to spend some time apart, just for a day or so. Okay?” You kept your voice soft and nurturing, hoping it would hide the way your own words were breaking your heart.

"Can I just get a hug before you leave? Please?" Fred took a few steps closer, his steps cautious. You closed your eyes and nodded.

You didn’t want to look at him for too long, both of your faces were threatening to deteriorate into tears, and you couldn’t stand to see it.

He pulled you into him nicely, hands slowly and carefully wrapping around you like you would crack if he moved the wrong way.

“I’m sorry I’m like this. I love you.” He said softly, sounding like it was a plea for you to stay.

“I know.” You mumbled into his chest.

Fred’s injury didn’t bother you. The forgetfulness of struggles with certain things didn’t bother you, you didn’t care if he struggled to keep track with things. 

It was just his anger. His outbursts. His shouting. That’s what bothered you, it was nothing like him. Sure, he’s definitely gotten moody or stubborn or annoyed before like during Quidditch matches back at Hogwarts or when a much needed shipment arrived late at the shop.

But you’ve rarely seen him truly mad, yell like he does now, the only time you can remember him like that is when he had to be held back from helping George and Harry beat up Malfoy after a match in his seventh year.

“I still love him, of fucking course I do. But he’s changed so much. it’s like,” You stopped, clenching your jaw and trying your best trying to keep tears from returning. “It’s like sometimes I look at him, and he’s a ghost, he’s a completely different man I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“You’ve changed too.” Alicia commented, “You’re not as much of a hermit as you used to be.” She joked, poking you.

“Oh piss off.” You let out a breathy chuckle, face falling soon after. “I’m scared. What if he stays like this forever?” You whispered out, a small crack in your voice.

“He won’t. You told me already, there’s still that cheeky little Fred that you’ve always know still in him. He’s getting better day by day.” She tilted her head. “And fuck it. Even if he doesn’t, even if it takes a while, you gotta grow with him.” You looked at her, puzzled expression on your face.

“If you don’t grow with him, if you aren’t willing to go through that, then what in the hell are you doing?” She shrugged, laying back in her chair. “You’ve gone through these shitty times with him before, right? And you both made it through. What makes you worried you won’t be able to do it again?” 

Alicia was right. You’ve gone through rough patches with him and made it out just fine. Casual disagreements, arguments and fights, yet you always made up. Leaving those arguments in the past and loving each other in the present.

“You staying another night?” Alicia asked you, taking a sip from her glass.

“No, I think I’ll go back. I’ll send an owl and tell them before I go.”

Once the green flames subsided and you stepped out of the chimney, dusting off your clothes. Fred came running into the room, a bouquet of all the flowers in his hand.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Feeling alright today?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

God, you hated the awkward tension in the air. It felt like this every time you had a conversation.

“That’s good. Uh, these are for you.” He stuck out the bouquet nervously, hand trembling. You put down your suitcase and stepped closer. A small noise of adoration left as you looked at the flowers, it was all your favorites.

“I may not be able to remember much. But I remembered these were always your favorite.” He let out an awkward laugh.

The last time you told him what flowers you liked was in year five. You took the bouquet from him with hesitant hands, surprised by the gift. Fred swallowed his anxiety before he began to speak again.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude. I just get so frustrated with myself, I don’t want to act like that anymore. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take it out on you, you didn’t deserve it.” He moved to cup his hands around your face, bringing your teary eyes to meet his.

“I promise you I’m going to be better. I swear on everything. I will be better.” He gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead, then pulled you into a hug. 

You held on tightly to his torso, turning the flowers away to keep them from being crushed.

“I love you.” You said into his sweater, tears beginning to fall.

“I love you too. So much.”

tell me what you thought! <3

[fangisms]

summertime at the burrow

A/N: i want to be an honorary weasley please im literally begging. notice me molly weasley

Pairings: Best Friend!Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fred finally invites his best friend home over summer holiday. Neither of you expected it to go so well. 3.7k words.

Warnings: fluff, best friends to lovers, ungodly amount of shenanigans, friendly bullying/teasing, mud wrestling, kissing, (friendly) violence, pet names (trouble, snookums, sugarplum, sweetheart), cursing, borderline frog abuse

"Good morning, trouble."

You hop into the seat next to him that he’d been saving for you. In fact, he’d been saving it for you since the first time you plopped down beside him after the sorting hat declared your house first year. You laughed when he shook your hand. He thought you had the cutest smile. Then you teased him for his devilish charm and he called you catty, and you’ve been teasing each other ever since.

"Are you packed and ready?” He sounds more worried than that time he nearly shattered his collar bone during a vicious Quidditch scrimmage. “We're leaving bright and early tomorrow. Mum says she's preparing a hearty lunch for our guests." Fred scarfs down the rest of his breakfast and turns to look at you to find you're looking back at him in bewilderment.

"Somebody's excited," you tease, ruffling his fiery locks and glancing over at George with a grin.

"If you think this is bad, you should see him before winter holidays," George huffs.

“I have.”

Fred rolls his eyes at you and you jab him in the side.

"Where are the lot of you off to?" Lee perks up from across the table, setting his plate down and wiggling his way between Alicia and Angelina.

"I finally got my honorary invite to the Weasley burrow this summer," you chirp, wrapping your arm over Fred's shoulders and leaning him into your side.

Lee cocks a brow and smirks at a suddenly and uncharacteristically shy Fred. "Well, it's about time! You've only been dating for—"

You shake your head. "No, not dating, Lee. I swear we've been over this—"

"Oh, we've been over it plenty. I just choose to ignore wicked witches when they lie—!"

You practically leap across the table with your teeth gritted to grab for his robes when you're stopped by the laughing twins holding you back from tearing into him. "Lee Jordan, you take that back right now, or so help me your mother will wonder why your hair's gone purple!"

"I'm not going to apologize for being lied to!"

"Let me at him! I'm trying to defend my honor here!"

"Miss—young lady!”—McGonagall appears behind you, sending you into shock and barreling back onto the bench—“Settle down! You're frightening the first years, and we typically prefer they come back in the fall."

"Apologies, professor, I was simply trying to have a friendly discussion with my classmate," you say, gesturing to Lee who smiles begrudgingly.

"Right, well, from now on, let's have our discussions from across the furniture, not on top of it." She wanders away, and you turn to stick your tongue out at Lee who is doubled-over and cackling at your being caught.

“I hope you know, we’re going to receive the same third-degree from my dear mother,” Fred mumbles in your ear. His heart races when you turn to him, a playful glint in your eye. You blink sweetly and rest your hand on his knee when he tucks his arm around your lower back. “But don’t worry, sugarplum, it’s never too late to try.”

He winks. Your eyes go wide, and you shove at his shoulder with a chuckle disguised by a scoff.

“Scabbers not the only rat in the Weasley family, I see.”

“That is exactly what I’m talking about, there’s no way you two are just friends—”

A slice of ham sticks to Lee’s cheek with a cold, wet slap as you eye him from across the table.

“Don’t listen to him, snookums, he just doesn’t understand our complicated arrangement,” Fred says, nudging your cheek with his nose and holding back laughter.

“Gross,” George mutters, grinning before he’s met with the same lunchmeat backhand his friend so rudely received. “Suppose I could’ve predicted that one.”

…

You wipe the sweat from your brow, slinging your carry-on over your shoulder before bending down to pick up your trunk. You’re trailing behind most of the rest of the group, just a few steps behind the twins while their younger siblings charge ahead through the field with Harry and Hermione. Fred checks in with you every couple of meters, making sure you don’t need any serious medical attention.

Once the twins breach the front door, you take a seat outside on your trunk, fanning yourself with your hand and throwing your head back. Then you hear:

“Fred, you better get out there and help that poor girl with her things!”

“Sorry, mum!”

You chuckle when he appears in the doorway moments later, winded as ever, hair plastered to his forehead, and still grinning wildly as he jogs over.

“What’s a lovely young lady like yourself doing outside all alone on such an unbearably hot afternoon?”

“Sweating like swine.”

“Ravishing,” he teases, shooing you off the suitcase, “head inside, mum’s absolutely itching to meet you.”

So you do. You can see her welcoming her children and their friends alike, and it fills you with the warmth of fresh gingerbread and the nerves of a teenage boy during school dance season.

“My dear!” she coos, arms outstretched even though a thin year of sweat coats every inch of your body, even though you’ve been wearing these clothes for a day, and even though you’re breathing heavy like a dog. She’s got her arms outstretched like you’re family.

“I’ve heard so much about you from Fred, and, goodness, you’re even prettier than he said you’d be!” —She gasps when he walks through the door, hauling your trunk in tow—“Don’t tell him I told you.”

“It’s been five minutes and you two are already sharing secrets about me. Only seven more days, Freddie,” he mumbles, setting the trunk down with a thud.

“Oh, well! It’s wonderful to finally meet you, dear, Ginny will show you to your room and lunch will be ready once you’re all settled!”

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley—”

“Oh, none of that, call me Molly.”

Your brows knit when she smiles at you so gently before making her way back to the kitchen.

“Thank you, Molly!”

Fred hops up from where he’d been relaxing on an armchair, clapping you on the arm with a reassuring smile.

“Everything processing alright up there?”

You nod.

“Peachy. Now give me a smile, you’re scaring me.”

You squint at him and pinch his arm, simpering when he hisses and swats your dry-gulching fingers away.

“That’ll do!”

“We’re up this way,” Ginny chirps as she rushes by and tugs you by the hand up the stairs.

Fred watches after you, rubbing his arm with a mean look on his face just before his playful resentment fades and his affections settle into the apples of his cheeks. This is going to be a long seven days.

…

Fred had never invited anyone to stay at the burrow. He preferred the company of his close family and whoever his mother deemed Weasley-enough herself. But he’d been saving this invitation. It stewed in the back of his mind for years before he mustered up the courage to offer it to you.

Ridiculous. That’s how it sounded in his head: ridiculous. If he wanted to ask you, he should have done it at the first chance. That’s what Fred would do. But he could never bring himself to get the words out whenever he swore to himself today would be the day. Because you’d just look at him with those damned doe eyes—you’d test his boundaries and make him all gushy inside—and it was like he was suddenly turned to a tongue-tied and pathetic halfwit.

And now here you are. An unofficial part of his family. But nevertheless a part of it. You’d found the annual Weasley strawberry-picking trip to be wonderful despite Fred pulling cheap pranks on you and the fact that it was basically sweltering outside. When you returned, you all spread out in the family room with bowls of the dewy berries in each of your laps. Everyone claimed a seat while you and Fred were forced to share the hardwood floor. You ended up tossing the small fruits into each other’s mouths with your legs laid across his thighs.

At one point, he lands one of the berries down your blouse. Almost immediately, he starts to laugh, clutching his chest while you gawk at him.

“You better start running, trouble.”

He gulps and scampers to his feet before scurrying out the front door. You take off after him, shouting curses into the wind when he rounds a corner.

You follow his footsteps but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“I swear, if I ever get my hands on you—”

He grabs your waist from behind you, dipping down to whisper in your ear. “You can put your hands on me whenever you’d like, sugarplum—”

“Merlin’s Beard, Fred! You scared the shit out of me!”

You jolt away, and he thinks you look genuinely angry this time. But he smiles and your features soften. Then you’re after him again, bounding into the tall grass with an uproar of laughter.

…

You spend the next few days of your vacation trying to beat Ron at chess then deciding it may be better if you and Harry team up to try and beat Ron at chess. You also take Ginny and Hermione shopping while the gaggle of boys trail behind the three of you grumbling and whining about missing their beloved Quidditch game.

You offer to help Molly with every meal, and she only accepts once you convince her your desserts are a crowd favorite back home. She’s proud to say she’s impressed, and she grows even prouder when you admit you adore big families like hers and see at least two kids of your own in your future.

Arthur takes a liking to you after you listen to him rave about the kind of items muggles use day-to-day and how fascinating their modern technology has become in recent years. He’s thrilled to find you actually take interest in his tinkering and collections and whatnot.

But most of all, you spend your time at the burrow with Fred. He steals you away after meals and keeps you up late to teach you his favorite charms. One overcurious evening finds you two perched together on the bathroom floor whispering and giggling while you brush a bold smokey-eye onto his eyelids. Let’s just say dinner that night was nothing short of hilarious: a look that Fred will never live down.

On the fifth morning, you jostle him awake. He whines about the sun not even being up yet while you drag him down the steps and shove your socked feet into an extra pair of rubber boots.

“What’s the bucket for?” he whispers, traipsing down the path along the side of the house when you stop dead in your tracks.

“Shh!” You press your gloved finger to his lips. A chorus of croaks erupts from the marsh beside the house. Nothing out of the ordinary for Fred, in fact that sound had often soothed him to sleep. But there’s a dangerous glint in your eye that tells him you’re on a mission.

“Can’t we do this when the sun is up? It’s cold and I’m tired—”

“The faster we catch ‘em, the faster we can go back to bed,” you whisper as your boot sinks into the edge of the muddy body of water. He sighs and sinks in next to you with his hands on his hips.

“I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to do this. You’re lucky you’re so pretty or you’d never get away with anything.”

You purse your lips and wade a little further out, looking out at the cooly rippling water beneath the sliver of sunrise.

“Yes, I would,” you say, quietly but so matter-of-fact he’s inclined to believe you.

Just then you spring into action, shoveling a small frog into your bucket with a victorious grunt. A few minutes later, he shuffled over to you and lowers his cupped palms into your bucket: three more frogs settle down into the center with a wet plop. You beam up at him, and it’s worth the early morning trouble to see you so happy and have you so close.

“So what do you plan on doing with these poor creatures once we’re done?”

You sit on the bank of the waterbed, sighing and setting the bucket beside you. He watches you from the water while you examine the small blob of darkness in the center of your palm. The bottom of the bucket is lined with croaking frogs, and the sun is well above the horizon, dousing the sky in soft pink and warm rose.

“I’m going to let them go.”

He lets out a sharp breath, hands falling to his sides, leaving streaks of mud down his tee shirt.

“You’re joking.”

You look up at him. You’re not joking.

“No,” he huffs. “You did not drag me out of my nice, warm bed to catch a million slimy frogs in the freezing cold dark just to let them go again.”

“Oh, but I did.” You’re crazy, he thinks. You’re crazy and it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. Doesn’t make you any less crazy, though it might make him much less sane.

You set the frog down in the grass and leave the bucket tipped over. The small creatures immediately flood out from the splotchy tin opening into the newborn daylight and the crisp morning air. You stand and wipe your hands against each other a few times, scrunching your nose and finally meeting his eyes again.

“What’s wrong, trouble? Cat got your tongue?”

You grin.

“You know, one of these days, I’m going to say ‘no’ to you, and it’ll be a rude awakening.”

Fred walks past you like he’s really mad. Like it was an uncrossable line and you treated it like the tape at the end of a marathon. He’s hulking back towards the house when you grab his wrist to get his attention.

“What?”

But you don’t look sad. You don’t look pitiful or hurt. You look like you’re scheming, and it drives him crazy. As if he could ever say ‘no’ to you.

“You think I’m pretty,” you coo, batting your lashes just to get on his nerves. His breath hitches, and he feels warm despite the nipping cold of the morning.

“Unrelated.”

You drop his hand and cross your arms over your chest with a pout. He continues leisurely toward the burrow, tossing his gloves to the ground with a huff of hot air.

“Fred?” you call. And you sound worried, so he’s compelled to whip around. But when he does, he’s met with a rude awakening.

It was a misstep. A silly mistake, the wrong footing. Easily avoidable, and yet he didn’t avoid it. So he’s ass-first into a mud puddle with you shrieking in laughter about a meter away.

“You’re awful,” he grumbles, both hands propping him up and seeping into the thick mud as seconds tick by.

“I’m sorry! Freddie, I’m so sorry,” you cackle, taking a few steps toward him with tears of joy in your eyes. “But you should have seen your face!”

“Help me up,” he says, shaking his head and wiping his hand down his pajama pants before holding it outstretched to you. You grab it and tug enough to leverage him out of the muck. But he doesn’t budge. And in that moment, your eyes are filled with fear. Then, with one jolt, you topple down into the mud right beside him.

“Fred!”

“An eye for an eye, sugarplum.”

You push yourself up onto your hands to find your entire front is caked in mud, the mess narrowly avoiding your chin and above.

“You’re going to pay for that.”

“Oh, bring it on,” Fred teases.

You smirk just before a handful of mud is smeared across his chest by your slippery glove.

“Your move, trouble.”

He shakes his head and chuckles, looking down at the abstract art work fondly. But not quite fondly enough to hold himself back. His fingers dig into the puddle determinedly just before patting the top of your head with it like a stray dog. You squint your eyes closed and groan before peeking one eye open and coating his cheek in mud.

You make it to your feet and Fred hurls a ball of mud at your ass but he misses and it lands in the grass in front of you. You bolt around the back of the house, but he hurls a hunk towards your shoulder blade. You yelp and shout at him:

“You’re supposed to be a gentleman!”

“I’ll show you a gentleman, sweetheart,” he hollers it just before he catches up to you. You squeal and nearly slip on a slick patch of grass, but before you can leap out of his reach, he grabs your upper arm and presses you against the tree just behind your back.

“That’s not playing fair, Freddie, I’ve got nowhere to run,” you say, breathlessly grasping at the edge of his shirt with a tired smile. He chuckles and plants one palm against the bark beside your head, bringing the other hand to cup the side of your neck.

“You don’t need to run anywhere,” he mumbles, “just stay here.” The dried mud on the pad of his thumb draws a swipe of dirt down your cheek. Your fingers curl around his wrist and your lips part sweetly when he leans in.

“Time to come inside, you two! Breakfast is ready!”

Your eyes go wide when he leans his forehead against the tree with a grumbled curse.

“I suppose I am quite peckish!” you chirp, dragging him along behind you all the way to the front door. You leave your boots and gloves outside and brush some of the dried dirt from your pajamas.

You sit across from him at breakfast and catch him stealing glances at you every so often. With a mouth full of food, you wink at him with a dirt-smeared face and almost make him spit out his juice when you kick him under the table. George teases the two of you about wrestling in the mud while Molly scolds Fred about tracking it into the house.

…

Before long, you’re facing the final night of your stay. You’d been dreading the end since the beginning, and now that it’s here, you’re heartbroken. It’s been nothing but fun and you’ve never felt so wonderfully vulnerable with so many people around.

But the thing you’ll miss most is Fred. He could sense you pulling away the last couple of days. Trying to shield yourself from the impact of reality. No matter how hard he tried to cheer you up, he knew nothing could stop you thinking about how much packing up and leaving would hurt.

With your things splayed out across the floor of your temporary room, you had started packing hours ago but kept finding ways to distract yourself and avoid the idea of leaving altogether.

“Need any help?” Fred knocks on the doorframe, leaned against it and wearing the blue jumper you once told him he looked best in. You smile up at him from the floor.

“No,” you huff, “but some company would be nice.”

He perks up and shuffles around your belongings to plant himself on the edge of the bed. You had made the bed up nicely, tucked the duvet and set the pillows out nicely. He told you you didn’t have to, but you did it anyways.

After a few minutes of folding and refolding the same shirt, you stand from the floor and join him on the bed. He’s leaned back onto his elbows when he nudges your foot with his. You nudge him back but don’t turn to look at him. So he sits up and bumps you with his shoulder.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says, fussing with the edge of your shorts to distract himself, “Being here, I mean. As a part of our family.”

You smile down at his fiddling fingertips and inch closer, looking at him with this half-sad, half-happy look that has him confused and hopeless and head over heels and confused.

“I had a really, really nice time,” you whisper, leaning your head onto his shoulder and letting your eyes drift closed.

“So…”

You chuckle and smile to yourself, “So…?”

You sit up when the floor rattles a little, a thudding coming from the room below you. Then George shouts.

“Get it over with already!”

You both look at each other and giggle. Fred leans back again and you watch him tilt his head back and let out a sigh. His chest rises and falls beneath that damned blue sweater, and you trace your fingertips over his knuckles. He lifts his head and smiles cheekily at you, like he knows what’s going on inside your head. Like he has any idea. And for once, you think he might be pretty close.

You practically tackle him to the bed, smiling against his mouth when he cradles your face in one hand and rests the other on your waist where your shirt had ridden up from the ruckus.

You pepper soft kisses over his blushing face, leaving faintly glossy lip prints on his cheeks and nose and forehead and a stray one on the column of his neck. He goes slack against the bed, satisfied and content and happy all because of you. But still, he lazily opens his eyes and grins mischievously and says:

“Took you long enough.”

You smack your hand against his chest just hard enough to warn him.

“Oh, you’re trouble, Weasley.”

He cups your hand against his warm chest and his smile ebbs from mischief to something not as easily recognized. Something that makes him shy and pink thanks to the girl who likes the freckles across the bridge of his nose in the summer and his hands even when they’re covered in mud. Love that makes him much less sane for the girl who might just be crazy for loving him back.

And all of it makes him hold your hand and lean up to kiss you one more time.

masterlist

[nottswitch]

number 4 and fred weasley (smut is okay) <33

hey baby, thanks for sending a request 💘 this one turned out sooo perfect, i absolutely love it!! your aesthetic is…

— ghostcore

(revolves around ghosts, spirits, cemeteries, and the eerie feeling surrounding them)

۶ৎ navigation ; masterlist ; fred m-list ; how to request ; 1k celebration

18+ smut

the old, dusty bed creaked underneath your combined weight as fred pounded you into the torn up mattress. the idea to spend the night in an abandoned mansion near the cemetery was, of course, one of the twins’ brilliant ideas, which led to you being scared of every single crunch and howl, and to fred fucking the fear out of you, like the good friend he was.

"fuck, fred-"

you were cut off by your own moan when the tip of fred’s cock hit a particularly deep spot inside of you. the sound made him lift his head from the crook of your neck, where his face was buried until now, and a chuckle escaped him at the sight of your blissed out face.

"and you said you were scared," he murmured, leaving a small, playful bite on your jawline, the action that signaled his amusement about the situation. "you can rival any ghost in here with how you’re howling, babe."

your cheeks instantly heated up, his words making you feel embarrassed about how loud you were. you trapped the inside of your cheeks between your teeth, trying to stifle your sounds, but fred wasn’t having it. his hand gripped your jaw, prying your mouth wide open. another round of high-pitched mewls broke out of there, because he increased the pace of his thrusts at the same time.

"wanna hear you, sweet girl," fred spoke against your puckered lips, tracing the tip of his tongue along the wet flesh and making it tingle. "let’s make the rumors true, hm? let everyone think this place is haunted as fuck."

with how hard his hand was cupping your jaw, you were sure your cheeks would be left indented. fred’s sweaty body was slapping against yours at a punishing pace, making the ancient bed creak even more – it was a miracle it hadn’t fallen apart yet. you desperately grasped fred’s back, undoubtedly leaving scratches up and down his skin, but it only encouraged him to thrust into you deeper and deeper. an especially loud, almost shrill cry rang through the whole house once he effortlessly threw your legs onto his shoulders and the new angle let his cock hit right at your cervix.

"shit, baby," he hissed, his breathing labored and hot on your face. "the shrieking shack won’t hold a candle to this goddamn house once i’m done with you."

the words were both a threat and a promise.

playlist

❥ after hours by the weeknd

❥ in my room by insane clown posse

❥ shrike by hozier

❥ devilish by chase atlantic

❥ sacrilegious by plvtinum

[lovegoodlane]

Pursuing the Prefect

7.1k words

18+ only

Warnings: brief alcohol consumption, sexual innuendos, oral sex [female receiving]

Summary: A Ravenclaw prefect catches Fred's eye, but she's not as easy to seduce as he had thought (slow burn, jealous ex, jealous Fred)

----

You stepped into the courtyard with your friends, taking in the autumn air. The leaves were finally turning the burning red color that you loved so much. It reminded you of someone.

"Hey, are you even listening?" Cho asked, nudging your arm. You had drifted off into your own thoughts while admiring the scenery.

"Of course, of course. You were talking about your Herbology exam," you replied, linking arms with Cho. She frequently complained about your "dreamy" tendencies, scolding you for having a wandering imagination. 

Your group continued through the courtyard, almost making it across to the next set of doors until a roar of laughter rippled through the students dotted around the courtyard. You turned to the commotion, finding the Weasley twins huddled around something on the ground.

As a prefect, it was your job to investigate things like this. And knowing the Weasley twins, it was best to interrupt whatever prank they had going on. 

The boys heard the clacking of your Oxford shoes on the stone path, turning to you as you approached. Both wore their usual grins, full of mischief and pleasure in whatever they had just done. You looked to the ground, finding a pale blond ferret on the stones by their feet.

"Now, what are you two up to?" you asked, crossing your arms in an attempt to appear intimidating.

This only caused Fred's grin to widen. "We just thought that Hogwarts could use a new pet."

"And who exactly is this pet?" you asked, bending down to pick up the ferret. It looked up at you, and you noticed that it had remarkably blue eyes.

"I think we should call him Mal-ferret. He makes a bloody cute critter, doesn't he?" George replied, tickling at the ferret in your hands.

You gasped, realizing who was in your hands. Draco Malfoy.

"You turned Malfoy into a ferret?! Are you bloody insane?" you asked, your voice raising in frustration and disbelief.

The boys only chuckled at your reaction, clearly enjoying their prank.

"Turn him back right this instant!" you demanded, placing Malfoy back onto the ground. "Don't make me get Snape, you gits!"

Fred grumbled, the smirk still playing at his lips. He loved when you got angry. And when you bossed him around.

George pulled out his wand and mumbled a spell, turning the ferret back into a human. Slowly Malfoy's features returned as he grew back to his normal size. 

"I'm telling my father about this!" he fumed, staring up at Fred. The ginger towered over him, making Draco's threats rather ineffective.

Malfoy stormed off into the castle as the students in the courtyard laughed. The twins laughed along with them, still very pleased with themselves.

"When will you two learn..." you shook your head at them, taking out your notebook. "That's 20 points from Gryffindor."

Fred exhaled, reaching for your elbow as you recorded the point deduction in your notebook.

"Come on, little bird. You don't have to be that harsh," he said, his voice sounding like honey as he tried to convince you to change your mind.

You looked up at him, being sure to make direct eye contact. "Flirting with me won't change your fate, Weasley."

George chuckled behind him, and Fred's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He straightened his shoulders, preparing to respond.

Fred leaned in, his nose almost brushing your ear. "If I were trying to flirt with you, darling, it would be a bit more obvious," he said, his voice low.

His breath tickled your neck, causing goosebumps to form. Your words caught in your throat and you almost choked. Heat rose in your cheeks, and you balled your fists in an attempt to regain control.

"You don't have an effect on me, pretty boy," you replied, spitting out the last two words. Your eyes locked, and you glared at him. Your heart began to pound as you held eye contact. His perfect hazel eyes bore into yours, the corners of his mouth turned up into a grin. The look in his eyes was almost...lustful.

Your jaw locked as your stubbornness kicked in. He was not going to win this. 

Fred took a step back, his hand reaching for the end of your braid and twirling it. "I'll see you at the Quidditch match tomorrow, birdie."

His sickening smile remained on his lips as he turned to George, walking back toward the castle doors. You let out a breath and hustled over to your own group of friends.

It was too late for you. Fred had noticed the color in your cheeks. The way you were fighting for control. It was in that moment that he knew he had to have you.

Fred had always liked you. You had several classes together over the years, and you were kind to him and his brother. You tutored him in Potions during third year, and you weren't as stuck-up as your fellow Ravenclaws.

There was something so tempting about you. Your "good girl" persona mixed with your unshakable attitude. It was like a drug to Fred, and now that he knew that he could make you weak in the knees, he was going to exploit it.

By the time you made it across the courtyard to your friends, your entire face was bright red. "Let's go inside," you insisted, hurrying out the words as you pushed towards the doors.

You had barely made it inside before your friends were asking questions.

"What happened?" Cho asked, sounding genuinely confused. "The way Fred was looking at you was...intense."

You ran your hands through your hair, trying to calm yourself. You had always thought that Fred was cute, but his reputation as a player had kept you away. You'd talked to him before in passing, but never like this. It was an adrenaline rush to stand your ground against him. Holding power over him felt...addicting.

"The twins just...they were just being gits. And Fred is always...you know Fred. He's defiant," you replied, your sentences smashing together as you attempted to compose yourself.

"Hey, are you okay?" Cho asked, running a hand down your arm.

"Yeah, just...didn't expect Fred to talk back to me. It's not usually that difficult to take House points away," you said, attempting to explain away why you were so flustered.

"But the way that he was looking at you..." Beatrice chimed in. "He looked....I don't know. I've never seen him like that."

"He's just being Fred," you said, trying to dismiss it. "Let's go to the library, I have mountains of homework."

Your group headed towards the library, finding your usual table and settling in. You tried to work on an essay for Muggle Studies, but you couldn't focus. Your thoughts kept wandering back to Fred and his hazel eyes burning into yours. The way his breath felt on your neck. His fingers twirling your hair.

You tried to snap yourself out of it. You knew that Fred was a flirt. He had quite the reputation with the girls at Hogwarts, and he did not have a hard time finding a date. He was probably just messing with you. It was nothing, and you scolded yourself for replaying the scene in your head over and over again.

----

Fred and George were lounging in the Common Room, finding anything to do instead of their homework. Fred was sketching in his sketchbook while George conjured and disintegrated flowers over and over again.

"What was your deal earlier today with that prefect?" George blurted out, breaking the silence in the room.

Fred turned to him. "What do you mean?" he asked, acting confused.

"You know exactly what I mean, you git. You were toying with her," George said, disintegrating another clump of flowers with his wand. 

"I wasn't toying with her," Fred said, seeming defensive. "I just...wanted to see if she would actually take the points away."

"Sureeeeeeeeeeee...." George replied, obviously doubtful. "You were flirting with her. In front of the whole courtyard, mind you."

"That was not flirting," Fred scoffed, focused on his sketchbook.

"What are you drawing?" George asked, getting up from his place on the couch to look at Fred's sketchbook.

"Nothing," Fred said, holding the sketchbook tight to his chest. "It's none of your business."

"Oh come on, Fred. Get off it. Show me the bloody sketch," George said, holding out his hand for the sketchbook.

Fred huffed, reluctantly handing it over. George took hold of the sketchbook, turning it so he could see the sketch. On the paper was a replica of your face. Fred had perfectly mimicked the stubborn fire behind your eyes.

"Oh, so you obviously don't fancy her," George mocked, still staring at the sketch.

"I never said that I didn't fancy her," Fred said. "I only said that I wasn't flirting with her."

"Where is this even coming from in the first place?" George asked. "We've known her for years and you just now fancy her?"

Fred shrugged. "I've always thought she was nice. Not as insufferable as some of those other Ravenclaws. But...I don't know. Something is different now. She isn't falling over herself for my attention."

"Oh, so you like her because she's a challenge?" George replied, his voice mocking. "That's endearing."

"Shut it, you prat. I can't explain it. She's just different. She's confident, and she's smart, and she doesn't back down. Most of the girls at Hogwarts aren't like that," Fred explained.

"The only girl here who knows how to talk back is Ang, but she's mine," George chuckled. "Interesting that we both like a strong-willed girl. Must be a twin thing."

Fred socked his twin in the arm, taking his sketchbook back. "You're being an arse."

"Never thought you'd fancy a Ravenclaw. They seem a bit too bookish for you. And how do you even know she fancies you too?" George rambled.

"I'm not sure if she does, but I can change that," Fred said, a smirk crossing his features. "I'm going to get her to come to the match this weekend. She'll be mine before the weekend is over, you'll see."

----

Students were buzzing at breakfast on Saturday morning. It was the day of the big Gryffindor vs. Slytherin quidditch match, and everyone was nervous with anticipation for the face-off. You were somewhat indifferent to quidditch, but you usually went with your friends for something to do on a Saturday afternoon. It gave you a break from doing homework in the library.

You had just taken another bite of toast when someone tapped on your shoulder. You put the toast on your plate, turning around in confusion. Standing behind you was none other than Fred Weasley. A grin was on his lips and his hands were behind his back.

"Yes, Weasley?" you said, slight irritation lacing your voice. You had finally gotten him to stay out of your thoughts, and now here he was again.

"I wanted to make sure that you're coming to the match today," he said, a certain sweetness in his voice. "And I wanted to give you this."

Fred pulled a scarf out from behind his back. It was his Gryffindor scarf, adorned with his house colors, crest, and initials. You stared at it in disbelief as it hung from his hands in front of you.

"Uhm...okay," you replied, sheepishly taking the scarf from him. A blush was starting to form on your cheeks. This was quite the unexpected move from Fred.

"If you're going to cheer for me, you need to be wearing my colors," he said, giving you a wink. This did nothing to calm the redness of your cheeks. You racked your brain for a snide remark to shoot back at him.

"I don't know what you're playing at, Weasley, but if this is you trying to mark your territory, I don't want it," you said, finally regaining your resolve.

His eyes softened, making your stomach flutter. Damn it.

"I'm not marking my territory, birdie. I just wanted a pretty girl to have my scarf. You're my lucky charm today," he replied, cocking his head to the side in a way that gave him a boyish vibe.

You huffed in response, reluctant to accept his answer. Before you could make another snappy reply, Fred leaned in to whisper in your ear.

"I don't mark my territory with a scarf, darling," he whispered, his voice low enough to give you chills. "I can show you later if you'd like."

You swallowed hard, clenching your jaw. You were not going to let Fred Weasley know that he could make you flustered. He can make any girl at Hogwarts swoon, but you were determined to not be one of them.

Fred backed away, a devious smirk on his lips. "I'll see you in the stands, birdie."

Fred left the Great Hall as if nothing had happened. You sat there trying to catch your breath, irritated at him for getting you so wound up. He was infuriating. But for some reason, you liked it.

----

You settled into the stands with Cho and Beatrice. Fred's scarf was in your backpack, and you were still debating on whether or not to wear it. 

"Come on, just put it on! It's cute that he gave you his scarf," Beatrice said, nudging your shoulder with hers. "Fred is adorable. All of the other girls are going to be jealous."

"Bea, Fred is a troublemaker," Cho replied. "He doesn't have the best reputation, and I wouldn't want to get mixed up in that if it were me. Wearing that scarf is just going to bring unwanted attention."

You had been stewing over this ever since breakfast. Now you knew that Fred's flirting wasn't just your overactive imagination or wishful thinking. It was real. You had to decide what to do, and you weren't quite sure of his intentions. 

"Wait, I have an idea," you blurted out, getting up from the stands before Beatrice or Cho could reply.

Your feet carried you to a place that you had been many, many times before. The Slytherin quidditch team's locker room. 

You had dated Adrian Pucey for most of last year, and you used the locker room as a place to hook up after hours. The breakup was relatively amicable. Adrian wanted to get more serious, and you were too focused on passing your O.W.L.s. You parted ways on good terms, but you knew he would be willing to get back together if you asked. 

You knocked on the locker room door, and Draco was the one to answer.

"Yes?" he asked, half-dressed in his uniform.

"Can you get Adrian for me?" you asked, crossing your arms as you leaned against the door frame.

Draco shut the door. It opened a few moments later, but this time it was Adrian.

"Hey," he said, taking in your figure in the doorway. He always looked at you like that. A mix of lust and admiration. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," you replied, inching closer to him. "Can I ask a favor?"

"Of course, love," he said, his eyes soft as he looked at you.

Part of you felt guilty for this. Toying with Adrian was totally unnecessary, but you wanted to get under Fred's skin in the same way that he got under yours.

"Can I wear your scarf today?" you asked sweetly. "For old time's sake? And for good luck. I'm rooting for you."

"Anything for you," he replied. "I'll be back with it in a moment."

You huffed a sigh of relief as he turned back into the locker room to fetch the scarf. You had worn it to all of his matches last year, cheering for him from the stands even though you didn't understand all of the rules of quidditch.

Adrian returned to the door with his scarf, handing it to you.

"Thank you," you said. "I'll give it back after the match. You're going to be great."

You leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. He smiled at you in the same way that he always had. It made your heart hurt in a way, but you were motivated by vengeance. 

You made your way back up into the stands to sit with Beatrice and Cho. You sat down, weaving Adrian's scarf around your neck.

Beatrice gasped. "You're a masher! Adrian's scarf!?"

You smirked, pleased with yourself. "Adrian and I are still friends. He deserves to win today."

Cho groaned. "You're digging your own grave. Fred is going to be insufferable when he sees you. And leading Adrian on? That's just dodgy."

"I'm not leading him on," you said, feeling defensive. "I just asked to wear his scarf for good luck. I didn't promise that we were getting back together."

"Whatever," Cho replied. "You're making your own mess."

The conversation came to an end as both teams entered the pitch. The crowd cheered as the players lined up on opposite sides of the pitch, awaiting their introductions. 

As the announcers began, Adrian's eyes found yours. You shot him a thumbs up, and he nodded at you with a small smile on his face. It was just like old times, and a pang of sadness shot through you.

From the moment that he stepped onto the pitch, Fred immediately clocked the scarf that you were wearing. The silver and green. Slytherin crest. The "AP" stitched onto the bottom of it near the fringe. He felt like his blood was boiling. 

He watched the interaction between you and Adrian, noticing the way that Adrian looked at you. You still had Adrian wrapped around your finger, and that pissed Fred off. He loved competition, but he loved winning even more. 

You finally dared to look at Fred and instantly regretted it. His jaw was locked in anger, and his eyes were burning into yours. Your stomach dropped for a moment, taking away the feeling of victory you had. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Before you could process the wave of emotions hitting you, the match had begun. You watched in anticipation, as Fred was now more determined than ever to bring home a win for Gryffindor. 

You chattered with Cho and Beatrice to try to calm your thoughts. What was Fred going to say to you after the match? You were wringing your hands in nervousness, dreading the interaction that you knew was going to come later. 

The crowd erupted into cheers as the announcer declared that Gryffindor had caught the Golden Snitch. You were on your feet in seconds, watching the Gryffindor team fly to the ground and pile onto each other in celebration. 

You felt like the wind was knocked out of you. You were sure that Slytherin was going to win. Everyone was predicting that. This victory was unexpected, and you knew that it would give Fred another reason to gloat.

The teams lined up to congratulate each other, a practice that was required by the school because of past instances of bad sportsmanship between the teams. They high-fived each other, muttering "good game" before moving on to the next player.

Fred had finally reached Adrian. "Good game, Weasley," Adrian conceded through tight lips.

"Thanks Pucey," Fred replied, slapping Adrian's hand in a somewhat friendly high-five. "Is that your girl up there?"

Fred nodded to where you were standing with Beatrice and Cho in the crowd. Adrian's scarf was still wound around your neck, and you were playing with the fringe on the ends.

"Um....not anymore," Adrian admitted.

You were watching Fred and Adrian from your place in the stands. Seeing them converse made you feel uneasy. Especially when Fred began smirking. The look on his face was nothing short of diabolical.

"That's too bad," Fred said. "She looks cracking in that scarf. But I think she'd look even better with my hands around her neck."

You couldn't make out what they were saying, but the next thing you knew, Adrian's fist was connecting with Fred's face. It took only seconds for the other players to begin hollering and beating on each other.

The professors hurried into action, herding the spectating students toward the castle and attempting to break apart the fighting players. Your heart was pounding in your chest. Why would Adrian hit Fred?

The more you thought about it, the more you were able to paint a picture of what likely had happened. Fred has a smart mouth, and Adrian has a quick temper. It's a lethal combination.

----

You were stood in front of your mirror, fiddling with the skirt that Beatrice had lent you. She insisted on going to the Gryffindor victory party tonight. She had her eye on Oliver Wood, and she refused to go alone.

Parties weren't usually your scene. You had gone to a couple of Slytherin parties last year, but you hadn't stayed for long. You were usually only there long enough to take a few shots of firewhiskey, talk to friends, and would leave with Adrian to hook up.

Because of this, your wardrobe was not fit for a Gryffindor victory party. Some girls showed up in not much more than a bra and short skirt, while others opted for tying up their uniform tops and jeans. Beatrice was kind enough to let you borrow an outfit, but it made you self-conscious nonetheless.

It was only a plain black skirt and cropped cami. Nothing fancy, but you felt unlike yourself. Your day to day outfit was your uniform, and even then you paired it with preppy Oxfords and frilly socks. Nothing that screamed "sexy". You grabbed for your oversized flannel that you usually wore on the weekends, deciding that an extra layer would help your comfort level.

"Babe, you need to relax," Beatrice said, peering into the mirror on her desk to put the final touches on her lipgloss. "It's just a Gryffindor party. And you can leave once I have Oliver in my clutches."

"I know," you said, sounding defeated. "I just...Fred is going to be there."

You caught Beatrice's eyebrows raise from the reflection of the mirror. "Oh, so you're getting all worked up over Fred?"

You huffed. "No! I mean...he's just...he's going to be mad about the scarf."

"He's probably too knackered from the match today to care," Beatrice replied. "And from the beating he got from Adrian."

A lightbulb clicked on inside your head. You had forgotten to return Adrian's scarf. It was in your book bag. You reached for it, pulling out the scarf.

"That reminds me that I have to return this to Adrian," you said, turning towards the door. "I'll meet you back here in 15 minutes, I promise."

Before Beatrice could answer, you had already whirled out the door and down the stairs. You were headed for the Dungeons.

You still knew the passcode to the Slytherin dormitories, so getting inside was no problem at all. You made your way into their common room, finding Adrian on the couch with several of his quidditch teammates.

Your cheeks began to burn when he looked at you. It felt like he was devouring you with his eyes. He gulped, sitting up from the couch to greet you.

"Hey, love," he said, walking toward you. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Yes, sorry," you said, feeling suddenly sheepish. "I came to return your scarf as promised."

You held it up to hand it to him, and he grabbed the other end, using it to pull you closer.

"You look....I don't even have words," he muttered, sending a lightning bolt down your spine. His hand found its way to your hip, and you felt squirmy under his touch. "Where are you headed?"

"Uhm...I'm going to the Gryffindor party with Bea," you admitted, pulling away from him. "She wanted support in her mission to get with Oliver Wood."

Adrian chuckled and let out a huff. "She's always up to something. Are you planning on spending any time with Weasley?"

"Adrian..." you started.

"No, you need to hear this. What he said about you," Adrian said, anger rising in his voice. "That prat sees you as nothing more than a good shag."

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling nervous. "I can make my own decisions, Adrian," you said softly, feeling small.

"I know, love, but I don't want you to get hurt. He's a prick. He gets bad marks. And the way he talks about girls? Disgusting," Adrian spat out, shaking his head.

"I'm not going to the party for Fred, I'm going for Bea," you said, hoping to soothe his frustration.

"He's just...I don't like the idea of him being anywhere near you. What he said about you today....he deserved that black eye," he grumbled.

"What did he say?" you finally asked, your curiosity getting the best of you.

"He said something about my scarf. How you would look prettier with his hands around your throat," Adrian said, sounding disgusted as the words came out of his mouth.

Your face felt like it was on fire. What was Fred thinking? Anyone who knew Adrian was well aware of his temper. A remark like that about you was a surefire way to get beat up.

"I...you know Fred. He was probably joking," you said, trying to brush it off.

"No. The look on his face...he was dead serious. Nobody gets to talk that way about you," Adrian replied, his fists balling at his sides.

"Adrian," you said, reaching out to touch his arm. "I promise you that I can take care of myself. I can handle Fred. He's just being a git, that's nothing new for him."

"I know, love," he sighed, melting into your touch. "I just worry about you. You know that I care."

You nodded, retracting your hand from its place on his arm. "And I appreciate that. But I can stand my ground. Beatrice will be with me the whole time, and once she's off with Oliver, I'm going to go back to my room. I will be okay."

This seemed to calm him down, as he finally unclenched his fists and took a deep breath. "Be safe," he said, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead.

You turned back toward the entrance to the common room, making your way back up to Bea's room. It had definitely been at least 15 minutes by now, and she was likely getting antsy waiting for your return.

----

You and Bea stood on the fringes of the Gryffindor common room. It was packed with students with cups in their hands. The music was loud enough that you thought the lights would start shaking. 

"Let's get some shots," Bea said, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the makeshift bar set up near the fireplace. 

She picked up two shots, handing one to you. "Down the hatch," Bea said, taking her own shot.

You followed suit, grimacing at the burning sensation that followed. You had never enjoyed firewhiskey.

Bea occupied herself by looking for Oliver. You saw a tall ginger mingling with a group of other Gryffindors, and you couldn't quite tell if it was Fred or George from your view of the back of his head. 

"Looking for me, darling?" a voice said from behind you. He was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of his chest.

You turned to face him. His freckled face was marred with a black eye, the bruise extending from underneath his eye to the top of his cheekbone. Adrian must have hit him pretty hard.

You winced as you took in the injury, imagining that it had to hurt. "What, am I really that ugly?" Fred asked in a teasing tone. 

You stared up at him with a tight-lipped expression, crossing your arms. "It sounds like you deserved that black eye," you remarked.

Fred shrugged. "My words had their intended effect. Is Pucey still fuming?"

"You are such a git," you said, irritated at his lack of maturity. "I know what you said."

"Birdie, it's nothing that I wouldn't say to your face," he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. 

"Stop calling me that," you replied, feeling angrier by the second. "I don't know what you're getting at, but I'm not an object. Now piss off."

Fred was taken aback by your words. His little game had gone too far.

"Darling, I didn't mean--" he started, reaching for your arm.

"I mean it Weasley," you said, your voice raising in volume. You shoved his chest, forcing him away from you. "Piss off."

Before he could get in another word, you had stormed off to find Bea. She had to be here somewhere.

In your mission to find Bea, you stumbled into Angelina. "Sorry, Angelina," you said, nearly knocking her drink out of her hand. "Have you seen Bea?"

She shook her head. "Last I saw her, she was with Wood. I haven't seen them in a bit, though."

You mumbled a thank you and continued your hunt. If she was off somewhere snogging Oliver Wood, you would be pretty impressed. That would be record time for Bea. 

You went up the stairs toward the dormitories, determined to find your friend. You began knocking on doors, hoping that Bea was behind one of them. You didn't want to leave until you knew she was safe.

One of the doors was cracked open, and you knocked. Nobody answered, so you peeked your head in. 

Someone was sitting in the dark, their head in their hands. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you realized who it was. 

"Fred?" you called into the dark room, your voice soft.

The figure picked up its head. "Yes?" he replied, his voice quiet and full of despair.

You entered the room, closing the door behind you. You pulled out your wand, muttering "lumos" before going any further.

Fred was sitting on the edge of his bed, his elbows resting on his knees. As you got closer, you noticed his face. It was puffy and red as if he had been crying.

"What's wrong?" you asked, sitting criss cross on the floor in front of him.

He shook his head, clenching and unclenching his jaw. You sat there in silence for a few moments before he swallowed, finally answering. 

"I'm sorry," he said, quiet enough that it sounded like a whisper. "I didn't mean...you're not...I'm just so sorry."

You looked up at Fred. There was a softness in his eyes that you had seen a few times before. It was genuine. He looked absolutely gutted. 

"Why are you sorry?" you asked, carefully prodding at him for answers.

"I didn't mean to make you feel like....like some sort of object," he said, sounding embarrassed. "You're not. I don't see you like that. I've been messing with you, but I took it too far. And I'm sorry."

Your heart pounded in your chest. You had never seen Fred this vulnerable. And you had never heard him apologize before. 

"You're just...I thought we were both toying with each other. I liked it. The way you talk back to me, your stubbornness. I love that about you. But making you feel like I only see you as someone to shag...that's not what I intended. That's not how I feel," he continued. 

"Fred," you said, sitting up on your knees. You reached for his hand, holding it for a second before he pulled away. 

"I really do like you. I am so sorry that I made you upset," Fred said, locking eyes with you again. "You don't have to forgive me, but I need you to know how sorry I am. You deserve better."

You stood up from your place on the floor. You parted his knees, standing directly in front of him. He looked up at you from his place sitting on the bed, nothing but softness in his gaze. He truly was sorry, and you knew it. 

Your hand found its way to his cheek, your thumb stroking his cheekbone that was bruised purple. You swallowed hard.

You leaned down, your lips meeting his in a whisper of a kiss. It was gentle, it barely even felt like your lips met at all. But you forgave him. This was your way of showing it. 

You pulled apart, but your gaze still held. "I forgive you, Fred," you whispered, your hand still on his cheek.

A small smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Not a mischievous grin like usual, but a genuine, kind smile. One filled with adoration. 

Fred was like putty in your hands. His tough exterior gave way to a person who was sensitive and kind. You had seen glimpses of that before, but never like this.

You finally knew how he felt about you. His feelings were genuine. And you were willing to trust him if he continued to be this vulnerable in front of you.

"I do quite enjoy teasing you," you said, smirking down at him.

"I knew it," he replied with a small chuckle, his hand lightly touching against your hip.

You were still stood between his legs, quite a precarious position. You knew exactly where you were going to go from here.

You shoved him back onto the bed, and he let out a "hmph" of surprise. Before he even got a word in, you were on top of him, straddling his torso.

Fred's eyes were wide with surprise and his brows dipped in confusion. "I thought you were sorry," you said, your voice dropping lower than usual, sounding almost sultry.

"I am," he said, still confused.

"Then prove it," you challenged him, placing a hand firmly on his chest.

Fred grinned up at you. Now you were on the same page. "Are you sure about that, darling?" he asked.

"Did I stutter?" you replied, a slight sharpness to your voice as you looked down at him.

His grin widened. "Don't say I didn't warn you," he teased.

In a matter of seconds, Fred had flipped you onto your back and pinned your hands over your head. He looked down at you, obviously very pleased with himself.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he said, locking eyes with you.

You gulped. "I don't want you to."

Fred leaned down to kiss you, your hands still pinned firmly above your head. He shifted so he was holding your wrists with only one hand, using the other to trail up your side.

The kisses started off slow at first, but they quickly gained in pace as Fred felt you squirming underneath him. "Impatient, are we?" he said between kisses.

You only groaned in reply, fighting against him to gain control of your hands again. His free hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer into him. You wrapped your legs around his torso, begging him to be as close as possible.

His kisses migrated down to your jaw, then to your neck. He sucked a few love bites into the base of your neck, and you were dreading explaining those to your roommates in the morning. 

Fred was relishing in the tiny moans that were escaping from your mouth. He knew that you were desperate, so he was determined to take his time. 

"Freddie, please," you said, your voice almost sounding like a whine.

"Oh, so I'm Freddie now?" he teased, kissing along your collarbones. He alternated between kissing and nipping at your sensitive skin, and it was driving you insane.

"If this is your way of apologizing, I don't forgive you," you teased back, squeezing your thighs around his midsection. Fred chuckled.

"What would you like then, birdie?" he asked, suddenly sounding sweet and innocent. His eyes found yours, and your voice got caught in your throat. You wished he didn't have that effect on you.

"Let me think..." you replied, trailing off in pretend thought. "Most people I know apologize on their knees."

Fred's eyes changed, the playful glint being replaced by a competitive fire. His trademark smirk crept across his face, and you knew you were in for it.

"Alright then," he said, finally releasing you. He backed off of the bed, standing on the floor in front of you.

Fred grabbed you by the backs of your knees, pulling you to the edge of the bed in one fluid motion. You giggled in reply, surprised by his sudden movements.

"I meant to tell you, this outfit is cracking," he said, tracing his hands down your thighs. A bolt of lightning ran down your spine, and you arched off of the bed. "I think you could lose the skirt, though."

Fred looked to you for permission, waiting for you to nod before he drew your legs together and tugged at your skirt. He pulled it all the way off, folding it before putting it on the floor.

"You're folding my clothes at a time like this?" you joked, trying not to feel embarrassed as you lay on his bed in only your top and knickers.

"You don't strike me as someone who likes creases in their clothes," he replied, pulling your legs open and kneeling on the floor. "You're a prefect, for Merlin's sake."

"Don't remind me of that while I'm half naked in your dormitory," you scolded him, playfully knocking at him with your knees.

"You're a good girl, I like that," Fred commented, brushing his hands on the outside of your thighs. He placed a kiss next to your knee, slowly kissing down your inner thighs. 

You tried to even your breathing, frustrated at how worked up you were over just some kisses. You were no stranger to sex, but this was something different altogether. Fred made you feel like your skin was on fire. 

Fred had finally reached your knickers, kissing along the waistband. A whimper escaped from your lips, and he looked up at you.

What a vision. Fred Weasley, cheeks flushed, lips pink, staring up at you with lust-filled eyes from between your legs. Your heart was beating so fast that you knew he could feel it too.

"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" Fred asked, his fingers playing along your waistband. 

"Freddie....please," was all you could manage to say. Your voice was barely above a whisper.

He pulled at your knickers, bringing your legs together so he could take them off. Instead of folding them like your skirt, he simply tossed them to the side.

"Will you tell me if you want to stop?" Fred asked, becoming serious for a moment. 

"Yes," you replied, reaching down to cup his face. You could still make out his freckles from the glint of your wand light. He was simply perfect.

Fred kissed your wrist, then kissed along your thighs once more. Your breathing became more rapid in anticipation of where his mouth would go next.

You could feel his breath on you. His lips finally made contact with your center, your hands gripping at his ginger locks.

He licked at your clit, his hands squeezing your thighs. You moaned, your fingernails digging into his scalp.

It took him only moments to find his groove, causing moans and swears to fall from your lips as he worked you closer to your release.

"Freddie," you breathed out, tugging at his hair. He groaned into you, making your back arch even further off of the bed.

You bit your lip, trying to fight off your orgasm. Finishing this quickly felt like letting him win, and you couldn't have that. 

Fred could feel the tension building within your body. His hand reached up to find your cami, snaking underneath it. He expertly located your nipple, playing with it with his fingers. His mouth never left you for a second.

Your body finally gave in, tired from resisting the pleasure. Your hips bucked lightly off of the bed, a mix of "fuck"s and "Freddie"s leaving your mouth.

Fred worked you down from your orgasm slowly, finally leaving your clit to put a few love bites on your thighs. Your chest was heaving, and you were trying to find the words to say to him.

"So fucking gorgeous, birdie," he said, his eyes burning into yours. 

You moved backwards on the bed, motioning for him to join you. He got up from the floor, laying on the bed next to you.

"Do you forgive me now?" he teased, turning on his side to look at you.

"Hmmm...I'll need to consider it," you replied, grinning at him. 

Fred had been in control, but now it was your turn. You pushed at his shoulders, turning him so he was laying on his back. You straddled him once again, but he looked less surprised this time.

"You really love being in charge of me, huh?" he joked, his hands stroking at your sides. 

"It's only fair, Freddie. I am a prefect, as you so graciously reminded me," you said, propping your hands on his chest. 

"Okay, madam prefect. Are you going to give me detention?" he said, rolling his eyes at you as he grinned.

"You wish. An hour with me in a classroom? Sounds like a scene from your dreams," you teased. 

You leaned down to kiss him, hands still on his chest. His arms wrapped around your back, pulling you in closer.

A loud knock on the door interrupted your kissing. You and Fred scrambled apart, and you had pulled on your skirt in a matter of seconds.

Fred went to the door, cracking it open. "Is she with you?" a voice asked, sounding a lot like Beatrice.

You came up beside Fred so Beatrice could see you in the room. She looked you up and down, taking in your messy hair and crooked clothing.

"I...um, I was just coming to tell you that I'm going back to the dormitories," Bea said, obviously shocked at the sight in front of her. 

"Okay, I'll come with you," you said. "I'll meet you in the common room in a few minutes."

Bea nodded, turning and heading back toward the common room. Fred shut the door, and you looked for a mirror. You found one, attempting to tame your hair and straighten out your clothes.

"Perfect prefect doesn't like to get caught hooking up with troublemakers, does she?" Fred asked, half teasing and half serious.

"Fred," you said, turning to face him. 

"No, I get it. Not good for your image, or whatever," he said, busying himself with straightening the covers on his bed. 

"Freddie, look at me," you commanded, your voice edging between soft and authoritative.

He turned to you, his face unreadable. 

"I like you Freddie," you said, taking a few steps toward him. "I'm not worried about my image. Yes, I'm a prefect, but I don't have a broom up my arse."

Fred chuckled. You took the last few steps, finally standing in front of him. You wrapped your arms around his middle, pulling him into a hug. Your head rested perfectly against his chest, and his hands found their way into your hair. 

"I'm sorry for antagonizing Adrian," Fred said, talking into your hair. "I know that he still loves you. I shouldn't have used that against him."

"Yeah, not your brightest idea," you replied, face still buried in his chest. "Adrian will understand eventually. He won't like it, but it's not up to him."

"Godric, you're sexy," Fred said, squeezing you tighter.

You laughed. "What was that for?"

"You don't let anyone tell you what to do. It's bloody irresistible," he replied. 

"You're included in that, you know," you said.

"Oh, I am very aware," he chuckled. 

"I have to go home with Bea," you said, slowly pulling out of the hug. "See you around?"

"'See you around'? That's the best you've got?" Fred joked, kissing the top of your head. 

"You wouldn't like me if I weren't hard to get," you replied, standing on your tip toes to give him a quick kiss on the lips. 

You turned and opened the door, glancing over your shoulder at him.

"I will never stop pursuing you, birdie."

----

Link to next part

[sunburnhurts]

Artist || Fred Weasley x fem!Reader

Summary: Fred finds himself in the same classroom as Y/n, they soon bond over Y/n's art piece.

Words: 2,259

All My Stories

Sitting on a stool, Y/n leans in to get a better view of her canvas. Something about it looks wrong to her, she couldn't tell what. She attempted to paint the view from where she was sitting. She looked out the window at what she was trying to recreate, then back at her canvas. Sighing, she leans back rubbing her eyes in frustration.

She then hears the door to the empty classroom she was in open. Turning her head to the noise, she sees a tall red head shut the doors quickly behind him. Unsure what the sudden commotion is, Y/n stayed in her seat which was located in the far corner of the classroom. She quickly identified the boy as one of the Weasley twins, she just couldn't tell which one from where she was sitting.

She watches as the boy looks around the classroom, his eyes landing on her. He was a bit out of breath from running, he stood with his back to the door as he caught his breath. After a few moments of them staring at each other, Y/n looks away, back out the window.

Letting his curiousness control him, he walks over to the girl, taking a peek at her art. Y/n looks back at the twin, now close enough to identify that it is Fred. "This is bloody brilliant!" He says, leaning into the painting with his hands behind his back.

"Thank you," Y/n says a bit shyly. Y/n never talked to either of the twins before even though they are all in the same year, they are also all Gryffindors. She wasn't like them, energetic and friendly with everyone she met. Yes, she was nice to everyone she met, but it takes more time for her to be able to befriend the person.

If anything, she hated people that would befriend anyone and anything, she found the behavior fake. She needed a reason to be friends with someone, needed a special connection. She felt as if a friendship wasn't special if you act the same with everyone else. So at first, she was a bit hesitant to befriend a Weasley. Sure, she found him a bit cute, but that didn't mean anything if they didn't know each other.

Y/n watches as Fred looks at her, saying, "What are you painting?" She leans away from the window so he can see the view. He looks out, his eyebrows raised in surprise to how similar the view and the painting are. "That's seriously incredible, I didn't know you painted!"

"You don't know a lot of things about me," Y/n slightly jokes, but she really did know he knew nothing about her.

"That's not true, I know you're really quiet and smart." Fred says, looking down at the seated girl.

"And how do you know that?" Y/n looks up, slightly smiling.

Fred smiles, going back to observing the painting. "We are in a lot of the same classes, didn't think I noticed you?" He asks.

"Honestly, no." Y/n laughs, wondering why he would have noticed her when he spends all class joking around with other people.

"Well I have, for a while actually." He says, turning back to the girl. Suddenly, hurried footsteps are heard outside the classroom door. Fred hears this and hides next to a bookshelf that is blocking him from the view of the door.

Y/n looks over, seeing a Professor Snape burst into the room. He looks around the room, then spots Y/n. "Ms. Y/l/n, have you seen George or Fred Weasley?" He says in his low voice. It was obvious Fred has done something wrong, and obviously to the wrong person. The last person you should mess with is Snape, the consequences would be essay after essay.

"No, Professor Snape." Y/n responds, saving Fred.

"Very well," Snape responds, his eyes flickering from the painting back to her, nodding and exiting the room. Y/n looks over at Fred once Snape fully closed the door.

"Thanks for saving me, Y/n." Fred says, stepping away from the bookshelf, walking back to Y/n.

"So what did you do for Snape to be looking for you?" Y/n asks.

"Me and Geroge pulled a prank, we switched some of the potions around. We wanted one of our classmates to be the ones with the switched potions, but of course Snape had to use them." Y/n smiles, trying to imagine what kind of explosion happened to Snape.

"You can't hide forever, you know."

"Yeah, I know." Fred laughs. Y/n laughs back, then turns her attention back to her painting, still trying to figure out what was wrong with it. "You're not finished?"

"No, I can't figure out what's wrong with it, it looks empty." Fred looks at her confused, genuinely thinking the painting is perfect.

"Maybe it needs people?" Fred suggests.

"You're right!" Y/n exclaims. "I don't know why I didn't think of that!" Fred smiles, crossing his arms as he watches the girl in front of him turn to look at him. He raises his eyebrows, interested in what shes going to say. "Want to add someone?"

Surprised, Fred shakes his head. "No, I wouldn't want to ruin it."

Y/n laughs, getting up from the stool. "No, please, if its really bad I can paint over it." Fred gives in, sitting down and picking up the paint brush. Y/n stands behind him, watching as he nervously picked up orange paint with the brush. "Never would I thought Fred Weasley would be nervous to paint something." She laughs.

Huffing a laugh, he says, "I don't want to mess it up too bad!" Y/n laughs again, placing her hand on his shoulder for comfort.

"Don't worry! Seriously!" Fred slightly smiles as he feels her hand on him. She watches as he paints himself under one of the trees, it honestly looked like a crazy 5 year old painted it. But she didn't mind, she thought it looked special, no other professional painting has a messy painting of Fred in it.

"Done." He says, turning his head up to Y/n. Y/n looks down from the painting, meeting his eyes. Laughing as he smiles, he says, "What? Scared I'm going to steal your talent, Y/n?"

"Terrified!" Y/n chuckles, looking back at the painting. "You should paint me now," She suggests, not really wanting the moment to end. Fred nods, not wanting the moment to end either, the feeling of her hand still on his shoulder felt special. He then turns back and starts painting Y/n.

He starts drawing the body, making her the same size as him. "So I'm the same height as you?" Y/n teases.

"I never said I was good with proportions." Fred smiles. Once he finished he said, "What a beautiful girl!"

"I can't tell if that even is a girl!" Y/n laughs, making Fred look up at her with a playful frown.

"Sorry I'm not as talented at art as you are!" He exclaims.

"You'll get there," Y/n pats his shoulder, then removed her hand from him.

Hiding his disappointment of her removing her hand, he asks, "Do you have other paintings you've done?" Y/n nods, walking over to a wardrobe in the room. As she opens it, many finished art works, unfinished paintings, and empty canvases were revealed. "Wow, and they let you keep everything in here?" Fred asks as he picks up one of the paintings.

"Yeah, one of the Professors let me use this classroom. Said to just be prepared to pack up in case the room was needed."

Fred nods, observing the art works. He then stopped, turning to her with a serious face. "You really are talented, Y/n."

Y/n studies his face, seeing he really means what he says. "Thank you, Fred." She smiles. Yeah, she's used to a few people telling her she is good at art, but it was different coming from Fred.

Suddenly, Fred's eyes widen. "Shit," He mutters, "I have to get to Quidditch practice!" He places the art back where he picked them up from. "So you're in this classroom everyday after classes?" He asks, walking towards the door.

"Yeah," Y/n calls out.

Fred turns around before he exits the room, he nods and makes a mental note so he can find you after school. "Goodbye, Y/n."

"Goodbye, Fred." She smiles, watching him leave.

~~~~

The next day, Y/n and Fred weren't able to talk in classes, there was never an opportunity to. So Y/n is sitting in the same empty classroom, sitting in the same stool, staring at an empty canvas. She tapped her fingers against her forehead as she tried thinking of what to draw.

She then turns her head as she hears the doors open, the same tall twin walked into the room with a smile on his face. "How did I know I would find you here?" He asks, walking over to Y/n.

"I wonder," She jokes.

"So, what will be the next art piece?" He asks, stopping next to her.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out." She sighs, looking back at the canvas.

"How about this," He starts, "You paint me and I'll paint you. I'll actually try this time, I promise."

Looking back up at him, she smiles. "Okay." She gets up, grabbing another canvas for him. They get situated, both facing each other and unable to see each others work.

As they worked, they got to know each other more. Fred did most of the talking, but she didn't mind, she liked listening to him ramble about little things. She got to know what he was planning on doing outside of Hogwarts, start a joke shop with his brother.

"I better get a discount in this store." Y/n jokes, adding details to the painting.

"Bold of you to assume you are allowed to even enter my store!" Fred says, looking up at the girl to see how her hair lays.

"Excuse me!" Y/n exclaims, looking up at him with her mouth opened in a dramatic way.

"I'm only kidding!" He says, looking back down and adding strokes of hair to the art. "You're allowed in there at least once,"

Y/n scoffs, playfully rolling her eyes at him. She enjoyed the playful banter, it was more fun with Fred than most of the people at Hogwarts. "Are you almost done?" She asks, finishing the painting.

"Hmm," He says, looking back up at her, staring for a bit too long, then looking down. Y/n noticed the lingering look, hiding her smile as she catches him slightly blushing. "Uh- yeah I'm done." She fully smiles, laughing lightly. "What?" Fred asks, looking up at her.

"Nothing." Y/n says, ready to show him the painting. "Let me see yours first.

Fred nods, pausing dramatically. He then quickly turns it around, revealing an okay painting of her. It was much better then the previous day, more detailed. "Wow, she's pretty," She jokes, reaching out for the painting.

"I know." He mutters, watching as she studies his work. He smiles seeing her grin. She then places the painting down, picking up the painting of him, showing him. His face brightens up even more seeing him as a painting. "That's how you see me? I'm surprised you're not in love with me. What a handsome lad!"

Y/n laughs, handing him the painting, then picking the art of her back up. "You might really steal my talent, Fred!" Y/n jokes. "I might have to hang this in my room!"

"You better! I spent my precious time on that!" Fred exclaims. Smiling, Y/n looks around the room, noticing it is now dark outside. Fred notices too, then looks back at Y/n. "Hope I didn't keep you here," Fred says, feeling a bit bad for using up so much of her time.

"You didn't, I enjoyed our time together." She smiles, getting up. "We better get back before it's past curfew." Fred nods, getting up as well. They both had each other's art in their hands as they walked to the common room, chatting about random things.

"Why do you spend breakfast alone?" Fred randomly asks. Y/n looks at him confused, wondering when he noticed this. "Again, you really think I don't notice you, Y/n?"

"No, you are always so busy with everyone." Y/n says, still looking at him as they continue to walk.

"I'm never busy for you," He says with a playful tone, smiling down at her. Y/n feels her heart beat quicken a bit, the corners of her mouth lifting as she looks ahead of her.

"To answer your question, I guess no one invites me to sit with them, so I don't want to intrude. I don't really mind it."

"You can sit with me, you know? I'm sure- no, I know George would love to get to know you." Looking back up at him, she smiles.

"Okay, I'll sit with you tomorrow then."

"Good," Fred grins, noticing they arrived at the fat lady painting. They enter the almost empty common room then walk up the stairs together. "Good night, Y/n, see you at breakfast." Fred says, watching Y/n turn to him.

"Good night, Fred." Y/n says, turning back around and entering the girls section of the dorms.

The End

A/n: I might add more onto this, I'm not sure though, but I really like this! I think it's so cute. Thank you all for the support I have been getting! I love you all so much!!

[writersblockedx]

Just Material

Pairing - Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader Summary - When Fred finds Y/n wearing a jumper which isn't her own (and certainly isn't his), he can't help but question who it must belong to. Warnings - Bit of angst, mentions of stress Words - 1.5K

Masterlist

It was a jumper. It was just a jumper. A bit of material, sewed together by needle and thread with absolutely no deeper meaning than such. At least, that's how Y/n saw it. Fred, however, saw the Hufflepuff title over the jumper, the smell that still lingered and the initials which were still printed into the label. Just two letters which taunted him: C.D

Fred had made it abundantly clear from the moment the two made their title of couple official, that Y/n was his. His hand seemed very so delicately glued to her, his eyes trained on her (even when she wasn't looking) and constantly trying to be at her side. This was mostly because of the great feelings he felt for the girl; feelings of which, sometimes, he struggled to comprehend. But there was too a small part of him which did it to ensure no one else got any ideas.

The boy wanted to make it out to be as if there was no point in trying. If he was to ensure that their relationship was shown to be as concrete as it felt, then no one else would try to slip their way between them. And Fred's plan had been working; it had been working bloody brilliantly. Well, that was before now. Because, as it turns out, the Weasley boy had walked into the library, set to meet Y/n, only to find her sat at a table with friends, dressed in a jumper which wasn't her own - and certainly wasn't his.

She was sat there, a book flicked to a page Fred knew she definitely wasn't reading as she quietly giggled with her friends. Friends of which Fred knew weren't Quidditch players who he also could assume wouldn't thus own Quidditch jumpers. So, the question which came to Fred's head, was simply: Who's jumper was it?

He had been standing at a halt in the middle of the Libary, so deep in thought he didn't have it in him to get Y/n's attention. That was until she caught his sight, smiled, then lost her smile as she noted his discouraged expression.

The girl retracted from her table and wandered towards him, "Hey," She flash a grin which wasn't returned. "You okay?" She asked him, brushing her palm against his forearm in hopes to ease whatever was eating him.

"New jumper?" He sneered through a firm frown.

Y/n looked down as if she were just reminded of what she was wearing, "Oh yeah, I ended up getting some bulbadox juice on me in potions, so Cedric offered me his jumper. Quite embarrassing actually." The girl laughed the story off as just one of them silly things, but Fred had made no move to loosen his ever so stern expression.

He just nodded stiffly and said, "So it's Cedric's?"

Y/n huffed. She knew that Fred could be...protective. It was an attribute which she did adore, but there were times, more recently, when she was finding it more difficult to deal with. If she were to talk to someone else for too long, or laugh too hard at someone else's joke that wasn't his own, she'd feel Fred shift at her side. Y/n knew he never meant it in a nasty way, it was just who he was. Not to mention, with exam pressure and such, any emotion between either of them seemed to become amplified.

"It's just so I didn't look stupid for the rest of the day." She attempted to assure him, but it seemed too late; Y/n had already lost him to his sea of doubt and troublesome worries. "Fred," She said through such a soothing tone, "It's just a jumper."

He shook his head and muttered, "It's not." Before turning his back on the girl, leaving her no chance to get in another word.

She watched, empty pupils and a blank stare as he walked away. Y/n wasn't sure what more she could have said - or even if there was much more she could have. So she settled in her stance, not daring to drag her sights away from the redhead until he had completely exited the Libary. Her thoughts raced. She couldn't leave it like this. Not when it was an argument that never needed to happen.

Before her plan had fully been conducted in her head, she was already walking. Of course, she couldn't be sure where Fred had run off to, but Y/n made a guess for the dorms as she wandered the stairs towards the Gryffindor common room. She slipped through the entrance and found herself in the quiet confinements of the room.

There was a fire cracking in the corner, some vinyl playing quietly and a few students dotted around in their usual places. She scanned the room. Unlike the rest, she wasn't fitting into the tranquil atmosphere that the room created. Instead, she was pooling in worry and haste to catch Fred before this situation got worse. Her pupils found George, sitting closest to the vinyl player and having his gaze pulled to Y/n from the moment she had walked in.

The other twin pushed himself from where he was seated to meet the girl in the middle. "He's in his dorm." He informed and her eyes flickered to the stairs. "I don't know what happened, but just be kind on him, the O.W.L.s aren't have got him stressed."

Y/n nodded in understanding, "The thing is, nothing happened. Nothing really." She shrugged as she felt her gaze being pulled towards the stairs she knew led to Fred. "I just need to talk to him."

George flashed a smile that was soft and sweet, "He needs you, Y/n." He said in full confidence.

She returned the smile, already beginning to walk towards the stair way. "Thanks, George." And with that, the girl slipped away and wandered towards the dorm room she had been in too many times to count.

Her feet slowed as she reached the door, finding that the wood taunted her. Her breath ached against the air and she almost thought about avoiding this situation. She considered turning her back and running. As much as she adored Fred, this conversastion was one of which she knew they would struggle to get through. But it was one conversastion of which couldn't be silent.

So she brought her knuckles into a fist and patted them against the door. Y/n waited a moment or two before hearing an uncertain, "Yeah?" From the other side.

One last breath leapt from the comforts of lips before she swung the door open and entered the dormetory. She stood awkwardly in the doorway as she met Fred's eyes, sat with his legs flung over the bed side. Neither of them broke an expression. Their eyes were blank and empty, waiting for the other to make the next move in this chess game they found themselves in.

"What are you doing here?" Asked Fred as the girl took a step forwards, shutting the door behind her.

She shifted on her feet slightly, "Came to talk to you." Y/n answered as she dared to move further into the room. She watched as he huffed, shaking his head in dismay. So she too huffed and uttered out a, "Fine."

Fred's brows knitted as Y/n wandered to his waredrobe, reteriving one of his own hoodies, one of which the girl had stolen before. From there, she slipped from the one Cedric had loaned her and put Fred's on, his familar scent brushing against her nostrails once again. Then she turned to the boy and raised a brow, "Better?"

He dragged himself from the bed and met the girl in the middle of the room where he looked down on her, "It wasn't just about the jumper." He told her.

She reached a hand out, letting it cup the side of his face - something of which he had effortlessly eased into. "Then what is it?"

His own hand grasped the one which comforted his cheek, pressing a sweet kiss to her palm. "It's just-" The words choked his throat as he pushed them out. "It's when you wear mine, when you go around with my jumper on, my number on your back, in Griffindor colours, everyone knows it's because you're mine." He paused and Y/n waited for him to gather his words. "So when you wear someone else's, I can't help but think it's the same."

Y/n would be lying if she didn't admit to the fact that her heart was fluttering, but still she comforted the boy and flashed him a soft smile. "I am yours. But a jumper, a bit of fabric, doesn't get to decided that. We do, Fred" She assured him as their pupils seemed tangled together - just as their hearts were.

Fred leaned his forehead forward until it met the girls. And there, through the silence of Fred's dorm, he whispered, "Mine."

[thefriendlyferretwriter]

Weasel

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Ravenclaw!F!Reader

Summary: A back and forth with the infamous Fred Weasley sends the two nemeses into a back-and-forth that lands them in detention, where both their frustration and anger send them into a deep argument full of insults, tension, and revelations.

Warning: LONG, 8k words, lots of scene cuts becuz a LOT happens, rivals to lovers (not really, Fred's obsessed with reader and is a little shit), boy pulls on the pigtails of the girl he claims he dislike type trope, was forced to give reader at least a last name, same for her best friend ( went with one of the most generic name Tiffany), Fred being a little shit, argument, tension, reader is unhinged

A/N: Fun fact about this fic it almost included a Pygmy Puff before I checked and discovered that they were created by the twins for their shop and since they are still students I had to go and swap it up with a baby puffskein. No idea how to describe that fic, there will definitely be multiple parts, enjoy!

There are no other places like Hogwarts.

The scenery, the castle's secrets, and the yearly competition between houses are something to behold.

But what might be icing on the cake is the library. The place where I can lose track of time all the while learning about the magical world.

The library has a hush rule but you can't help the coughs, the few ink pots falling to the ground, or even the giggles here and there but it doesn't bother me one bit, it even helps me focus as I enjoy yet one more day in the castle.

"Hi there Raven."

And there goes my enjoyment.

With a roll of my eye, I direct them toward the annoying voice belonging to none other than Fred Weasley who stands there with his satchel on his side leaning against one of the book-filled shelves.

"Weasel," I acknowledge him with a sigh looking back down at my page.

"Weasley," he corrects drily.

I brush him off as I finish my inked sentence and wait for it to dry before turning the page and asking him what he's doing here.

He leans on the table by his hip and crosses his arms inclining his head towards me, "What is it to you?"

"You being here is a bad omen so either you're here to sell your stupid stuff to the first years," I say glancing at his sachel for a second before looking back down at my work, "Or it involves annoying me and I'm having a good day to waste it dealing with you today."

I don't look at him and instead focus on my next sentence when I hear some shuffling and a piece of rolled-up parchment drops next to me that I recognize all too well.

"You must be kidding me," I groan snatching the parchment from the table.

"Unfortunately no. McGonagall benched me and said that if I wanted to stay on the quidditch team I needed a tutor."

His speech makes me groan as the lines reiterate his rant in a distinguished manner and is signed at the bottom by Professor Flitwick.

"McGonagall sent me to Flitwick who recommended you. Said you needed tutoring on your record."

I let go of the paper and join my hands together placing my thumbs on the base of my nose to try and diminish the incoming headache.

"Soo," he draws out attracting my gaze, "See you later, I'll be waiting for your owl."

I see him walking backward, all cocky as he dares to wink at me before turning around and descending the spiral stairs.

I audibly scoff and slam my notebook closed.

Yet another day ruined by that damn Weasel.

"He's a pest."

"You're exaggerating again," she laughs at me standing up from her seat.

"No, I'm not!" I say shoving the last book in my bag as class just ended, "He's obnoxious and annoying and a nuisance to my peace," I stand up and follow right after her.

It's been a few days since my unfortunate meeting with the least likable Weasley in the library and the meeting with Professor Flitwick and McGonagall this early morning couldn't have gotten any worse since no amount of pleading on my part could get them not to assign me with him. As a supplement I had the redhead walk in on me pleading which had him reveling at my misery digging me into a deeper foul mood.

"He's a funny guy that sometimes goes too far," she says pushing a chair that wasn't tucked under its assigned table.

"He's the bane of my existence," I say full of venom.

She laughs walking toward the classroom's exit," That's romantic."

"No, saying someone is the bane of your existence isn't romantic."

"I'm sure you could turn it into something romantic, like a poem or a book about forbidden love," she daydream walking through the door.

"You read too many romance books," I say stepping outside the classroom when I freeze and feel like I'm going underwater as my body is iced out for a moment.

It feels as if I've been hit with glacius but I'm able to use my voice and squeal in shock as the feeling subsides and I'm brought back from my shock by two giggles.

I see two first-year Gryffindors laughing nervously before they simultaneously decide to run away, one of them letting loose on her wand that was levitating the bucket letting it fall on the ground with a loud clash.

I'm left in the middle of the open hallway surrounded by classmates who just exited their class.

The wind hits me and I feel my body shiver before I look up at my friend whose mouth is covered by her hands in surprise.

I hear it.

The annoying infuriating sound of distant laughter, one I cannot mistake for another.

My eyes zero on him sitting on the transfiguration courtyard's tree clutching his stomach as he laughs balancing himself on the branch.

"You were saying?" I ask her rhetorically still dripping in the pink-colored jelly-like liquid.

She lowers her hands and approaches me slowly trying to wipe my face.

I feel the bubbling of rage making its way up my throat with my breathing taking up seeing him seated up there on the branch looking like a king sitting upon the throne of his buffoonery surrounded by his brainless friends, or rather, George's brainless friends and it makes me snap.

I push her hand away and stomp my way through the hallway onto the courtyard's grass toward him.

"Weasley!" I yell as I march to him.

"Oh, now she remembers my name," he laughs out loud for his twin and his friends to hear as the number of students stopping by increases.

He slides off the branch with ease and starts strutting to me with this damn cocky smile.

George stands up from his leaning stance on the tree, "Fred," he says.

I don't know if it's a warning or a scolding but his intent doesn't matter to me.

My hearing is replaced with the beats of my heart drumming in my ears as my face feels as hot as lava.

My steps get bigger and bigger and the closer his infuriating smirk approaches, the rage escapes me as my hand swings back and closes into a fist before landing in his face mid-step.

The audible hit is met with a groan and while I'm far too small to send him to the ground with a punch it does send him swaying back and hunching over.

In a second George jogs to his twin and hands him support grabbing his elbow as Fred's groan turns into another one of his annoying chuckles.

"You see how she hit me?!" he shouts looking delighted by the situation before he lays his gaze back on me with a bit of blood on his teeth.

His smirk falls and I believe for a moment that I finally did it, I finally managed to instate fear in this jackass before I realize his gaze moved from my frame to someone behind me.

The buzzing in my ears ceases and my hearing comes back to me as the grass crunches under one's weight indicating someone approaching.

A cold sweat travels through my body when I turn around and spot none other than Professor Hooch standing tall in front of us.

By instinct, I take a step back and bump into Fred before jumping aside as if he burnt me which isn't far off as my knuckles are calling out for help burning and tingling from the impact it had on his cheek.

She sends us both one of her infamous hawk looks that could petrify Dumbledor himself, "I presume that display of violence can be explained by your appearance?" her pointed look is directed at me.

I try to wipe the substance off my hair with an annoyed huff.

Her eyes travel to Fred whose head is pointed down grabbing his chin and messing with his mouth moving his jaw from side to side.

"That rewards the both of you with an hour's detention," that answer makes him groan and I point at him with outrage.

"But he-!" My disbelief doesn't reach her before she cuts me off.

"You're both dismissed. Mr.Weasley, I advise you to escort your brother to the infirmary to tend to his injury. As for you, I advise you to go clean yourself up before heading to the infirmary as well, perhaps at a time Mr.Weasley won't be there," she finishes her sentence looking at George who acknowledges her insinuation with a nod.

Still clutching his jaw, Fred is led away by his elbow by George as Hooch walks to stand in front of me, "While I understand your frustration I did expect better from you than violence."

My eyes widen and the breath I take in is cut off, "He-"

"This isn't about Mr.Weasley's childish behavior, he will receive his punishment either way. What disappoints me is that you could've avoided any punishment by reporting this to me or any other professor in the area but instead, you will ecope of an hour's detention as well."

She says shaking her head as she walks away leaving me standing here in the courtyard covered in the substance and an aching fist that doesn't even feel satisfying knowing it didn't teach the jerk anything.

"Why is it so windy today?! I thought it was supposed to be sunny!" I complain trying to be louder than the wind.

"No it's supposed to switch all day, look," my friend says motioning to the daily prophet in her hands bringing the paper closer to my face so I can see the weather section indeed announcing an insufferable change of weather all day.

"You can still spot the puddles from the rain earlier," Luna Lovegood points to the Quidditch pitch where the grass is still two shades darker and the random puddles of water stir with strength from the wind blowing.

My venting is interrupted by a loud collision that sends me twisting around back to the pitch to see Gryffindor and Ravenclaw teammates fighting over the quaffle like rabid dogs in what is supposed to be an amicable match as a form of training.

"Remind me again what's the point of an amicable match if there is no amicability?" I ask turning to face them just to miss the apparent goal from a Gryffindor through one of the Ravenclaw's lowest hoops.

I groan when I recognize the face of the person who managed to pass our defenses as he basks in the small victory.

"What is it raven?! Can't take in the sigh of greatness?!" he gloats seated comfortably on his broom with his red hair all tussled.

His pretentiousness blinds him and his arrogance leaves him to ignore the whistle suggesting the match continues and leaves a fellow Ravenclaw to score in a flash right behind him. The only indicator that anything happened at all is the small thunder of applause and shouts of approval coming from the small gathering of students who decided to kill time and participate in the amicable match to cheer each team on.

His head whips around and the sight of the opposite team scoring sends him tilting his head back with a groan that he tries to conceal but it doesn't escape anyone's notice.

The karma is enough but it is so rare to catch the weasel in one of his life life-learning moments that I don't hesitate before deciding that I need to add my little grain of salt to the wound.

I have it, I have the perfect response to give him right on the tip of my tongue and I wonder for a second if the smirk grazing my lips isn't a giveaway but my witty taunt is stopped when a broom enters my line of vision.

"See?! I told you your presence would do me good. Look at that, bullseye!"

I'm sure he means no harm, I know him to be humble but the poor lad either didn't see Weasley or simply decided to ignore his presence.

The fact that he is being ignored after being wrecked is sickly satisfying and my smirk manages to widen somehow.

It is clear he simply didn't see Fred as this one's scowl sends him silently flying away in an awkward, one-sided staredown that ends with him glancing at me with an uncomfortable wide-eyed stare, silently asking for help.

I stare at him flying further and further away and only look back when I notice George approaching his twin on his broom.

His frustration is clear and the eye roll along with his head thrown back pleases me a great deal.

The devilish idea is too good and it doesn't take a lot of self-convincing before I fall for temptation.

"What is it Weasel, too busy drowning in your own ego you can't pay attention?!" I shout so my sickly honeyed voice reaches him and George as I tuck my now pastel pink hair behind my ears.

'The concoction should last less than a week. This Flemont Potter was a genius!' nurse Pomfrey said.

The scowl adorning his face fills me with warmth and electricity buzzes through my veins knowing I have the last word for once.

"Nice hair," he tries himself at a desperate dig that does not work as Professor Hooch whistles for him to fly back to the match.

Turning his back to me, he flies back to the center of the field I can't help but laugh realizing that it's the first time he turns his back to me without walking away with the last word.

The whistle is blown and the speed at which each team goes at the other's throat could cause whiplash if one wasn't used to it.

I'm focused on a group of players when my peripheral vision drags my eyes to my friend throwing the quaffle with all his strength leaving another small group of three players to speed away.

Taking a moment to take in his throw he looks back down and waves at me with a smile, satisfied with his play.

I wave back with a grin of my own before he disappears out of my sight as a bludger hits him straight in the back of the head with a resounding thunk throwing him off his broom and crashing to the ground.

I hear a loud yell and realize it comes from me as my body instinctively reacts and bolts toward the pitch.

Professor Hooch is already by his side by the time I run to his limp self.

"Is he okay?!" I get caught off guard by my friend reaching him and kneeling at his side before I do.

I stand there looking down at him in shock as people start surrounding the area trying to take a look at the wounded on the ground when I notice the Gryffindor team lowering themselves on the ground including the culprit.

His quidditch robe swings with each one of his steps as he walks towards the commotion very slowly like in a trance.

"You too bring a stretcher," she says shooing away both a Gryffindor and a Ravenclaw player.

I hear George Weasley calling after his brother who has now reached Professor Hooch kneeling on the ground

"Is he okay?"

How dare he. His filthy meek voice asking about his well-being as if he isn't the reason my friend is lying unresponsive on the ground.

That familiar boiling sensation in my chest rises again and I feel my fists clenching by themselves.

Before I can comprehend my thought process I am bolting toward him. Still, before I can reach him George jumps in front of him getting ready for whatever, a whatever that does not come as I am held up by the waist by two Gryffindor players sensing the hostility.

"What is wrong with you!" I holler up in the air struggling with all my might against the hold of the chasers which is useless against the player's strength.

The rest is a blur, George pushes the douche towards the locker room as I follow the stretcher closely to the infirmary.

"If you stare any harder you're gonna be the first third year student here to achieve wandless magic," she chuckles "It's you! You did this!" he yells shoving me back and sending me stumbling on the ground probably trying to get me as dirty as he is. back down at her textbook.

"False," I utter not leaving the weasel out of my burning stare.

I notice her raising her head from my side view in wonder.

"Granger," I state chewing on my thumb's fingernail.

The sight of him simply sitting there without any consequences under the excuse of 'it's part of the game, nobody can prove there were any malicious intents behind that strike' drives me mad and haunts my head with multiple scenarios of murder that keep replaying again and again.

"You have to let it go. Pomfresh said he'll be fine."

"He didn't deserve that strike it was targeted to piss me off because I got the last word," I say wincing when I realize I bit my thumb a bit too hard and drew some blood.

"It's part of Quidditch, many, many people took strikes to the head."

"Bullshit. A strike to the head during an amicable match? Come on," I roll my eyes frustrated that everybody seems so eager to just brush this incident off.

"I'm gonna start thinking you're checking him out and not actually glaring at him."

"Have you lost your mind?!" I say louder than intended, my head whipping left to glare at her this time.

There is no silence as the Care for the Magical Creature class takes place outside and the lack of chatter is covered up by the sound of wind rustling the nearest tree's leaves and the distant purrs and grumbles of the different creatures in their pen.

"Is there a problem?"

Unlike McGonagall or Snape, Professor Hagrid's tone of voice isn't accusatory but genuinely one of concern. This concern eats at me as the idea that he might believe even for a moment that my words are targeted towards him makes bile rise in my throat.

"No!" is my immediate response to reassure the professor but the rest of my explanation seems to be stuck in my throat as I have a hard time imagining myself explaining to the class that I was just defending myself at the mention of me hypothetically checking Weasley out.

That same person here in the open classroom with a side smirk plastered on his annoying face trying his best not to laugh at me, not because it would be rude but because not laughing at the right time alongside the rest of the class wouldn't be as satisfying as a full-on public humiliation.

I see Hagrid lowering his chalk and I can already foresight him asking what he might have done wrong which is not something you want to ask as a teacher in front of a bunch of ruthless teenagers.

His other hand joins in on the other starting to mess with his chalk making him appear anxious and way less mighty.

The awkwardness doesn't begin to measure to the remorse of having put him in this situation because of my impulsive nature.

"It's my fault!" my friend shouts in my defense.

Looking at her, Tiffany managed to snatch up a baby puffskein and hold it up to Hagrid's sight.

"I put him in her hair and she was afraid he would do a pooh."

The laughs are inevitable but I'm certain the 'do a pooh' will haunt my nightmare.

The mocking is a harmony of taunting and I can only look beside me to glare at her sitting there with the puffskein in hand as I wish he would just 'do a pooh' in her hands this instant.

At least Professor Hagrid seems reassured, smiles as the misunderstanding is cleared up, and turns back around to continue the lesson.

We're sent to different enclosures containing different creatures and are instructed to feed them to create a bond.

"Look at him acting casual as if he didn't send someone to the infirmary with a trauma to the head," I say full of venom seeing him being buddy-buddy with another Gryffindor girl as they try to feed Mooncalf in the open and have a laugh as they are surrounded by the eager herd starving for pets and seeds.

"Will you quit it and enjoy one of the only course that's relaxing here," she scolds kneeling closer to the ground to feed a diricawl who nibs at her finger affectionately before walking past her hand and pitter-pattering to her to lay his head on her chest to receive pats on his head.

"Plus you've already been told we can't know if the blow was on purpose."

"That's a load of bullshit and you know it, he's one of the best beaters here," I say with a pointed look at her throwing a violent handful of seeds towards the rest of the diricawls.

"Did I just hear you compliment Fred Weasley?" she says looking up at me with a teasing smile.

"It's not a compliment I'm just stating a fact, the probability of Weasley hitting someone right on the head by accident at such distance is close to none," I say throwing another handful as my eyes catch a paddock with dubogs in it, one in particular who is devouring the weasel with his bulgy eyes.

There are three dubogs in the small paddock and two of them are cooling off in the dirty pond uninterested in anything else but sunbathing with only their eyes above the murky water blinking one at a time as the third one is eating up Weasley with his eyes.

A devilish idea makes its way into my head. The opening I get is served to me on a gold platter as Tiffany is distracted by the herd of diricawl overtaking her landing her on the ground, surrounded.

My chance is heightened by Weasley's back turned to me talking with his little girlfriend.

I take my chance disregarding any rational thought invading my head. Sneakily climbing over the fence, I crouch and walk toward the desired enclosure. The creature doesn't seem to sense me approaching and if he does he doesn't seem to care one bit licking his eye and pawing the ground with his hind leg.

A part of me wishes I could egg him on and ask him if he wants to nibble on the Weasel's ankles but I'd rather not throw my plan out of the window. Instead, I carefully slide my arm to the latch and pull on it slowly to make sure not to make any noise before giving the door a small push to create the crack that seems to be enough to throw the creature out for a jog as he crashes against the paddock's door.

I don't get to see the seconds before the disaster as I have to hurry back and jump over the fence once again, running back to my friend and free her from the diricawl's clutches giving her a hand and raising her back up as the show starts.

The screams that grace my ears aren't from fear but more from shock as the tall redhead lands on the ground when I finally get to lay my eyes on him. The dubog licks him from bottom to top with the creature's natural dirt and slimey skin rubbing off on him as his Gryffindor girlfriend screeches for help calling for Professor Hagrid who runs up to help in a flash.

The man's height isn't only impressive and intimidating but also a great advantage to grab the massive creature off and drag it back to its enclosure where the other two are still sunk in the water, sunbathing and behaving.

Once shut close, Professor Hagrid grips the wooden bars of the enclosure to gather himself before turning around and helping Weasley up with just one hand gripping the back of his blouse. While he seems shaken up by the encounter, he tries to rub off some of the mud on his face but only manages to smear it looking around at the rest of us.

The reactions vary, some are as shocked as he is and others shrug off their worries and are now laughing at his appearance now that they've established that he is healthy and no longer in danger.

I myself giggle knowing that while I can't get him punished for his action back on the pitch, I get to watch him look like a fool and even up the score. My friend does not agree and lets me know by elbowing me in the ribs making me groan mixing laughter and painful grunts.

Laughter that is spotted by the redhead when his head whips to me before his eyes light up.

His eyes shift from eureka to burning hatred. Shrugging off the hand of his friend trying to tidy him up and storms in my direction.

"It's you! You did this!" he yells shoving me back and sending me stumbling on the ground probably trying to get me as dirty as he is. The confrontation is cut short when Hagrid once again showcases his immeasurable strength by yanking the weasel back with a tug on his now mostly white blouse and throwing him behind his eleven-foot frame that stands now right in front of me.

"Enough with the both of you!" his voice booms in the open area.

He takes a step back and I can get a peak at the redhead enough to see him huffing and puffing from being thrown around like a doll.

"This is a classroom, not a pub. Now the both of you will walk all the way up to Professor McGonagall's office and explain exactly why I had to send the both of you to her and she will be the one to give you your punishment!"

I look at him now, hair disheveled and his tie undone covered in dirt and mud and slime. He still looks somewhat decent as he pushes his hair back with a huff.

I must look just as messy with my pink hair having been thrown on the ground and I decide to tug at the end of my own blouse trying to tidy myself up and avoid any more wrinkles on it.

"Miss Granger, please accompany those two, you know what to do if they misbehave."

"She tried to kill me!" Fred yells pointing at me.

"Do you have any proof, Mr.Weasley?"

He seems to hesitate for less than a second before motioning to me with his hand in frustration.

"It's logical thinking, she hates my gut and she's crazy!"

"You jerk-!" I bellow throwing myself in his direction before I'm engulfed in the Professor's arms.

"Enough!" He yells once more letting me go only when I stop fidgeting in his hold.

"There is no way of proving the Miss did anything. This paddock's lock has been faulty for a while and after this incident, I will personally see that it is dealt with."

He says as if he was addressing the whole class who is still standing all around us watching the event unfold.

"As for the both of you, you will do as you're told and let Miss.Granger accompany the both of you back to the castle and receive the punishment the both of you deserve for the waste of both my time and your classmates' time."

The tone is harsh and the decision is final.

"I am very disappointed in the both of you. You're worth so much more than this petty rivalry," the man shakes his head walking away.

Those words seem to have the same result on both of us. We look down a bit ashamed before we are ushered away by Hermione as we start the long and silent journey back to the castle.

We both stand in silence, side by side with yet a respectable distance as the two professors stand in front of us with judgmental stares that don't need any words to transcribe their distaste…or is it disappointment?

We were sent to our respective bathrooms to clean up 'as best as you can' while my request to wash off completely was denied by both teachers and so here I stand with the back of my blouse tainted by dirt as Weasley could barely wash the slimy texture out of his own blouse and barely dry it with what I believe might have been a spell.

And so here he stands looking dirtier than me despite the order to clean up.

"Now that the awful stench has been managed I believe a proper punishment is in order," McGonagall says with her hands joined in front of her.

"I agree, my cauldrons are in dire need of a scrub," Snape says with his usual disinterested tone.

Weasley starts protesting and claims that I should receive a harsher punishment for my so-called actions.

"She tried to kill me!" he protests.

"And as I told you Mr.Weasley there is no way for us to possibly prove this claim as Professor Hagrid did not see any of this unravel."

"Just like no one saw you throw that bulger." I bite under my breath.

"Exactly Miss.Hermlock. And I would suggest you speak with your full chest if you have any objection." Mc.Gonagall drily berates me.

"Snape-Professor Snape," he quickly corrects himself, "said multiple times that in such cases veritaserum should be used, and since she's SO confident saying she didn't do anything she won't mind doing this, won't she," he says towering over my side.

"I've always known you were a moron but I never thought you would outdo yourself in front of teachers," I smirk crossing my arms.

"Mr.Weasley, even with Miss.Hermlock's permission, the usage of such beverage on a student is forbidden. I would've hoped that with a father working for the ministry, you out of all of us would remember that."

My smirk doubles in size which I thought would never be possible.

In the end, my smirk is wiped away when we are both awarded two hours of detention with Snape. And as if it wasn't enough the punishment is cleaning the endless potion class's cauldrons.

We're ordered to go clean up, thoroughly this time and go for lunch before being expected in the dungeons for our detention hours.

We arrive at the same time just as the last student exits the class, we are left standing side by side, or more precisely 3 feet away from each other as we walk in right in front of Snape's office where he is seated with his head down to his paper purposely stalling and letting us stand there in awkward silence.

What must've been minutes feel like hours as I try my best not to side-eye the redhead standing silently beside me.

I wonder if I should've refrained from opening that damn pen when I hear those continuous scraping of pen meant to insult us as the dark-haired teacher ignore our presence.

He finally puts his feather back in its inkwell before he stands resting both his hands on his desk, "I believe I don't have to remind you what you need to do during those two hours of detention."

Neither of us answers and that seems to egg him on to stand straight and walk around his desk to stand right in front of us, his hands placed behind him.

"You two will clean every single cauldron here, I made sure none of my classes cleaned their equipment to make sure the lesson will stick and you won't have to keep me company again on such a fine day," he says bending to my height and looking straight into my eyes for just a moment before moving his sight onto Weasley, "At least one of you will learn."

Standing back up his speech is interrupted by strong stomps getting closer.

Turning around, the three of us look towards the class's entrance as we spot for a single second a figure sliding across the entrance and disappearing with a loud thud that sounds painful.

It is the first time I make eye contact with the weasel since the last time we butted heads and it is to share a sour scrunched-up expression for the victim of the fall who we hear grunting in the hallway before the sound of their footsteps echoes once more and we see the face of the one who rushed here most likely to speak to Snape.

He's bent over leaning on the door out of breath.

"Berkshire, if you're done fooling around you may grace us with an explanation as to why you're disturbing this detention."

Still out of breath, Enzo Berkshire huffs and puffs for a few more seconds before settling down still bent over.

"It's Nott," he exhales deeply before breathing in once more, "He and Wood started a brawl between quidditch teams, Hooch told me to come get you."

Turning back to the teacher, his eye roll is noticeable and his silence is an obvious assessment of the situation as he probably is planning what to do now that he is torn between us two and the alleged brawl.

"Alright, As the head teacher of house Slytherin, I will accompany Berkshire and assist Professor Hooch in this conflict."

He points to us, "As for the two of you. You will stay here and complete your detention without any complaints. If you leave before your time is up, I will know and that will reward you an entire week of detention."

Pointing at Berkshire, Snape walks past us and orders him to lead them away and with a flick of his wand makes it known that it is thanks to that maneuver that he'll know of us potentially leaving the classroom.

"Behave." is all he says before walking right behind a speeding Enzo Berkshire.

I wonder if he was referring to the both of us or maybe just Weasley.

I don't get to ponder on that before my thoughts are drawn elsewhere at the realization that my worst nightmare is unfolding before me, I am now stuck with the most insufferable student here for two hours doing the most aggravating task besides cleaning the house bathrooms.

I only get back to reality when I hear him throw his robe and satchel on a nearby station.

Being left alone with him, the task at hand, and the absence of Snape to muzzle the redhead angers me as I frop my own bag and stomp to one of the sinks filled to the brim with dirty cauldrons.

I don't even get to enjoy a full minute of tense peace as the douchebag starts his usual yapping.

"Can't say I'm surprised he would leave me alone with you, Snape has always hated me and it's no wonder he left me with you considering you tried to kill me," he mouths off as always lifting a cauldron from its stove and piling it on top of another one.

"And yet you're still breathing, what a shame." I roll my eyes as well as my sleeves picking up a scraper.

A moment of silence passes and I pray this is the moment he realizes he needs to shut up so we can endure the rest of this detention in mild peace but alas this is a good idea and everyone knows that Frederick Weasley never had one of those in his life.

"Damn. The sorting hat must've made a mistake, maybe you belong with the other psychopaths in Slytherin." He throws both cauldrons beside the filled sink with a loud clang.

"I'm sorry but I'm not the one cladding the scales." I bite back.

"Oh, she has claws," he draws out loudly, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"What is wrong with you?" I ask genuinely turning around to face him.

"No, the question is what is wrong with you," He asks back louder.

"Nothing is wrong with me! You're the one who can't figure out when to stop, you're the one who always goes too far and you're the one who went too far once again, so much so that you ended up sending my friend to the infirmary!" I hurl and see him losing that fire that usually overtakes his pupils showing he enjoys egging on people once they are set off.

"It's the risk when you play Quidditch," he tries and fails to sound firm in his statement making me scoff.

"For Rowena's sake, you're still acting as if you didn't purposely throw that bulger at him!" I say running my hands through my hair in frustration.

"I didn't!" he says even less believable.

Done with his excuses I turn back around to give all my attention back to the dirty cauldrons when he manages to slide between me and the sink making me take a huge step back.

"I didn't mean to throw it that hard."

I stare at him, no, I glare at him feeling the urge to punch him again but I remember that it didn't do anything for me the last time and instead opt to let out my frustration by hollering at him and walking away before I make the mistake of punching him and have a Professor magically appear out of nowhere to give me more detention again.

Even when I think I finally win and have him admit to his wrongs he still finds a way to make excuses for himself.

"What were you expecting?! I'm a beater that's what we do!"

Does he really think I don't know what a bloody beater is?!

Is he trying to make me pass off as an emotional wreck because of my appropriate reaction to such injury during a supposed amicable match?!

Any beater whether amateur or professional could agree that either maliciously or not that throw was unwarranted during training.

"There really is something wrong with you," I walk right in front of him, toe to toe, and spite my statement right in his face pushing him aside to gain back access to the sink.

I start scrubbing as my mind throws all the different reasons I despise the fucker. Irresponsible, unfunny, no compassion.

I'm so lost in my spiteful analysis of him that I don't register that my thoughts aren't my own anymore as I unconsciously start rambling out loud.

"An idiot who doesn't even think before taking people down with him," I grumble scrubbing away.

"Come on now it's not like he's dead," He nips throwing down yet another pile of small cauldrons beside me.

"I'm talking about me!" I yell letting go of my current task and letting the pot fall and clang with another one causing a ruckus in the sink.

"Not only is my friend in the infirmary because of you but I'm also stuck with you trying to teach someone who I learned has never been slacking in muggle history before recently."

His jaw slacks open and his eyes double in size like the breakfast sausages I had this morning.

"Wait a minute. You think I'm doing this on purpose?!"

You do everything on purpose! Your dad works for the ministry, he is a Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office employee dammit! If anyone is an expert at muggle stuff it's your dad!" I say as a matter of fact.

"And tell me exactly what would it bring me to purposely be bad at this subject all of a sudden?"

"Oh I don't know, maybe to annoy me more often than usual." it sounds like a question but I know I'm just clarifying the situation.

"You think I'm gonna waste my days stuck with you in the library acting dumb for fun?" he tries to ask sarcastically.

"And why not? Beside the library part isn't that what you do all day anyways?"

The quick wit seems like it struck him as he scoffs with a broad smile.

"If you want to be a failure for the rest of your life go ahead and be my guest but I'll ask you not to take me down with you."

That same disbelief smile disappears and leaves place for a blank look that doesn't often grace his face.

"Unlike what you think, success doesn't necessarily come from academic prowesses." he tries to bite.

"Obviously not when it comes to you." I mock before turning back around feeling satisfied for getting him not once but twice in a row.

The triumphant silence doesn't last long before he dwells in a monologue that I don't bother listening to. Instead, I tune him out and start scrubbing which helps to cover the annoying sound of his voice.

His speech feels like hours long but is probably just a few minutes tangent as by the time my ears recognize his next sentence I'm only done with the first cauldron.

"-With such a nasty attitude it's no wonder Murphy didn't show up to your date."

The cauldron clashes with another as I let it fall back into the abnormally huge sink before turning my head toward the nuisance of my life.

"How do you know about that?" the voice that comes out of my mouth is one I don't recognize.

He pauses and seems to hesitate.

"Heard Katie talk about it to her friend."

"I never said anything about it to Katie, 'matter of fact I never said anything about this date to anyone ever so there's no way you heard this through gossip."

"He told me." he tries again even less believable than the first time.

"Bullshit." I seeth.

It's bluff, while I believe I might know Murphy it's not to say that he isn't just like any other guy and simply good at hiding his real intentions.

He starts ranting about some story I can tell is made up on the spot and it's like the wheels stopped turning and the lightbulb lights up in my head with such intensity that the next words come out of my mouth in a loud realization that echoes his own.

"You did this, It was you!" I accuse him with a rageful glare.

He steps back and rolls his eyes tilting his head back, "Oh my-you know what?! Yeah, I did. I warned the guy and I did well because he deserved better than to be stuck on a date with a stuck-up cunt like you." he finishes his tirade by sticking his index finger in my enraged face.

"You're fucking evil." I spit it like it's a statement everyone agrees upon watching him turn his back to me walking farther away.

My outburst is so intense that I have to take a shaky breath and keep my tears at bay as my better judgment is thrown out the window and I decide to finally pour all my frustration out.

"You know, you always take some sick pleasure in telling me I'm cold-hearted," the beginning of my speech is shakey but I quickly regain strength in my voice to let out all my poison,"But you can't even own up to your own fucking flaws and the fact that you're nothing but a jackass who use your so-called 'pranks' to harass everyone in school because they know better to be friends with an asshole like you who's only friend is his twin because no one else wants to be around you!"

My rant is over and the only noise filling the space is my heavy breathing. Catching my breath I feel hot and can barely focus on anything other than my heart beating in my ears as I feel my boiling blood travel all through my body as I stare dead into the eyes of the one who brought me to such an extent of anger.

When my heart settles and I can finally hear my breathing slow down I can focus solely on him and realize that his stare is dead.

He's not glaring, he's just looking. All trace of anger is gone and he's left staring at me or rather through me with dead eyes.

I seem to have struck a nerve and for once the guy doesn't have a comeback. Instead, I'm rewarded with the shoulder shove of a six-foot-something figure who passes me to walk to the sink and starts scrubbing away…

What the heck?

The feeling of regret invades me for a moment but is quickly replaced by one of annoyance.

Why should I feel regret? It's not like he ever feels regret for the horrible things he does. He never apologizes to anyone no matter how far he crosses the line.

The regret quickly fades and I instead let the small spot of confidence inside me grow. It's the first time I've ever shut the mouth of the biggest jerk there is, why shouldn't I enjoy it as long as it lasts?

After everything, I'm entitled to this. I'm entitled to twist the knife.

I take a first careful step and then a second, more confident one closer to him and the sink.

"Yeah, I might be a cold-hearted bitch. But you're an arrogant jackass who's not even funny." I say more calmly yet still petty.

"Oh piss off!" he shouts throwing the cauldron back into the sink with a smash that I wonder might have actually shattered or maybe chipped one of them.

I jump aside to avoid another shoulder shove and follow him with my eyesight to spot him grabbing his stuff and realize he is trying to escape this detention to avoid my lash-out.

Figuring out his plan I catch up and run past him to stand in front of the door blocking his way out.

"No! No, You called me what you called me and now I get to call you whatever I want!"

I wonder for a moment why he doesn't push past me, for sure his frame can easily overpower mine but instead of crashing into me to walk out of the potion class he instead turns around and throws both robe and satchel on a station with a shout that almost rivals mine.

"Alright then let's go ahead, get it all out of your system sweetheart." He snarls standing in the middle of the class, his arms expanded before he places them on his hips.

"You!" the bitter tone escapes me in a rough huff as I point at him, "Have done nothing but make my life hell since the day I arrived." I start walking towards him, "And for what? I have NEVER given you any reason to hate me and yet I have been the target of so many of your pranks that I started being known as the damn Weasley's guinea pig!" I throw my finger in his direction before it falls back on my sides as I walk slowly but with conviction towards him.

"There we go!" he says faking being proud probably to egg me on in my rant with a sick smirk bending down to my eye level and crossing his arms probably to toy with me and undermine me as he always does.

"You do nothing at school but be a nuisance and waste everyone's time including mine and it's so sick to think that you can't even let others be successful just because you can't achieve anything on your own, it's pathetic!" I'm getting closer, almost toe to toe with the redhead who doesn't take a step back and stays planted where he stands or rather is bent over.

"Come on let it all out," he snarls.

"But somehow I was still stupid enough to think that this time you would have the decency to at least admit you went too far and apologize for hurting my friend but even then you cannot take responsibility as always," I finish my tirade taking my final step right in front of him as our noses brush.

"Anything else?!" he angrily spits in my face with a scowl.

I breathe in harshly wishing I could punch him or clap back like I did before but realize if my rant hasn't aroused all kinds of empathy it is useless to keep calling him names it won't male a difference.

"Yeah, your attempt to make me look ugly by turning my hair pink completely failed because I still look good unlike you," I say sourly throwing a glance at his mop of hair.

He sneers.

His arms that were crossed in front of him manage to travel up and brush strands of hair behind my ears before his fingers slide down and twirl the locks in his hands toying with them.

When I'm done bathing in the hatred coating his eyes I notice I'm not the only one panting when I feel his breath brush my face.

Why is he panting? I'm the one who just rambled angrily for five minutes.

"Got it all out?" he says calmer this time around.

I look at him and my eyes make the mistake of switching between his eyes and lips just a second to see his doing just the same and analyze my face.

We haven't moved from our spot and I don't know why.

"Yeah, I think so," he whispers his lips brushing over mine with each syllable.

He stands back up, his hands leaving my hair and falling back to his side as he brushes past me leaving me to stand there frozen trying to comprehend the goosebumps littering my body and my hands shaking by my hips.

I manage to turn around and see him grabbing his stuff and making his way to the class entrance once more.

I find my voice, less confident than before but still strong enough to try and stop him.

"What are you doing detention isn't over yet!" I begrudgingly state.

"Then I guess I'll get a week's worth of detention!" he announces walking out with one hand clutching his satchel and the other one throwing his robe over his shoulder.

He's gone, and in the newly found silence, I breathe out through my nose and assess what just happened.

Weasley just mocked me, pissed me off and egged me on, undermined me, and left me in a classroom filled to the brim with cauldrons to clean all by myself after toying with my anger, my hair, and…

My hand bolts into fists and my nails sink into my palms as I conclude what I already know.

I hate him.

[jamilelucato]

possibility - fred weasley (part 2)

pairing: fred weasley x slytherin!reader

(part 01 here) (more HP fics here!)

summary: being friends with (y/n) has become Fred's biggest challenge.

note: They are in their last year at Hogwarts, so, for purposes, they are 18; besides, the whole canon of the book (it would've been Order of the Phoenix) is mostly nonexistent here.

the reader: can be interpreted as someone with ADHD; she loves literature and she has no friends.

words: 5000+

Enjoy!

Ginny Weasley was a charm, even at the young age of fifteen. 

Being her older brothers around, Fred and George tried their best not to ignore her and make her feel welcomed and heard whenever needed. Most of the time, that was an easy task. But, now that she was getting older, it was harder to listen to her complaints.

“She had no right to say that to me!” she whined, angrily snorting. Her red hair moved with her face as she gestured. “She said it in front of Harry, for Godric’s sake!”

George immediately cast a sidelong glance at Fred. It was no secret that Ginny harboured a strong affection for Harry Potter; her infatuation was apparent to anyone with a Weasley surname, and it was common knowledge throughout Gryffindor House. Only Harry himself seemed oblivious to it. However, as Ginny grew older, her feelings seemed to intensify, and Fred frequently tuned her out, lost in his thoughts, while George assumed the role of counsellor. On that particular day, though, it appeared their roles had been reversed.

“Did he hear what she said?” George inquired gently, addressing his younger sister.

“I believe so,” Ginny responded, her voice lowering as she contemplated the encounter.

"Well, how did he react?" Fred leaned closer, although there was a table separating them from Ginny. The dinner table of Gryffindor was crowded with students, so leaning closer was needed for better hearing.

“He didn't,” Ginny replied, her tone a mixture of confusion and uncertainty. “He was with Hermione, and they were engrossed in their conversation. We exchanged glances, that's all.”

“Could it be possible he was simply aware of your presence and not actually listening to your conversation?” Fred suggested, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

Ginny averted her gaze, reluctant to meet her older brother's eyes. “There's a chance,” she admitted, albeit reluctantly.

“So, he didn't really hear it," Fred remarked, leaning back slightly. “Potter’s a man. If he had heard something and something that involved his name, he would’ve reacted.”

George turned his head to face Fred. “All men, you reckon?”

“Absolutely,” Fred confirmed with a carefree shrug.

But George was out for blood.

“Let's say, for argument's sake, that (y/n) mentioned you. Would you turn to look and react?” George asked, instantly capturing Ginny's attention. She was well aware of (y/n), the enigmatic Slytherin who struggled to maintain friendships but seemed to have formed a unique bond with Fred.

“Sure,” Fred replied, not realising the mischief in his twin's eyes. “I mean, it depends on what she'd be saying about me.”

“Does it really matter?” Ginny chimed in.

“It doesn't,” George answered his sister, then returned to Fred. “But how would you respond to her?”

“She's my friend, Georgie,” Fred teased affectionately, using his twin's nickname. “I'd man up and approach her, saying something like ‘hey, what were you saying about me?’ and get it over with.”

“Get what over with?” Ginny prodded, leaning in closer to Fred.

“Probably turning that friendship into a relationship,” George answered instead of Fred. “I mean, if he were to really man up.”

Fred jabbed his twin with playful force, feeling irked by the insinuations.

“What's wrong with (y/n) and I just being friends?” Fred retorted defensively.

“Nothing,” George shrugged nonchalantly. “She's my friend, too,” he pointed out, “but I don’t dream in my sleep with her doing stuff to me in bed.”

This time, Fred slapped his twin's arm more forcefully. “I've never had a dream about her!”

Ginny burst into laughter, feeling fortunate to sit beside her brothers during this comical exchange.

“You've dreamt about (y/n)?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “What was she doing in your dream? Kissing?” Ginny lowered her voice, casting furtive glances around the room before adding, “Or something more?”

Fred tried to brush off Ginny's teasing with a dismissive wave of his hand despite the hints of a crimson blush creeping onto his freckled cheeks. He shook his head and muttered something about dreams and absurd fantasies.

Ginny and George exchanged a knowing look before George leaned closer to his twin. “Fred, I've known you my entire life, and I can read you like an open book,” he began in a hushed tone. “You're smitten with (y/n).”

Despite his attempts to appear composed, Fred couldn't help but squirm in his seat. “That's nonsense, George. She's just a friend, and I don't think of her that way.”

Ginny chimed in with a playful grin. “Oh, come on, Fred. We've all seen the way you look at her. It's like you're under some kind of love spell.”

Fred glanced around the bustling Great Hall, feeling the weight of the conversation. He had a reputation to uphold, which included being a mischievous troublemaker and a skilled prankster. The idea of admitting his feelings for (y/n) went against the grain of his carefree image. Besides whatever those “feelings” were, they were more complicated than he wanted to admit. 

Instead of confessing his feelings, Fred squared his shoulders and made a decision.

“(y/n), she’s a tough lass,” he started saying, “I'm not going to pursue her romantically. I don't want to complicate things for her.”

Ginny and George shared another look, this time tinged with surprise. Fred was known for his mischievous tendencies but rarely showed such maturity and thoughtfulness.

“What are you going to do, then?” Ginny asked, intrigued by her older brother's newfound wisdom.

Fred flashed a determined smile. “I want to show her she can have genuine friendships, so that’s what I’ll be for her, no matter what.”

Ginny exchanged a glance with George, both impressed and proud of the transformation they had witnessed in their older brother.

“That’s actually… very nice of you, brother,” Ginny said, choked with herself for ever uttering those words.

“Thank you,” Fred shook his head down.

It was a well-known fact that (y/n) struggled to form connections with her peers. While she often blended into the background amidst bustling classrooms and boisterous mealtimes, those who paid attention could discern that, in the end, (y/n) was very much alone. Fred just hoped she wasn’t lonely, too.

And if she was (and, let’s face it, if he were to bet, that would be his horse), he would be her friendly shoulder. Perhaps with his initiative, she would open up to have other friends. But that would sadly mean he should suppress those dangerous feelings (and dreams) about her. He understood that showing romantic interest might deter her from nurturing other friendships or, worse, create an unhealthy dependency on him.

While many boys at Hogwarts might desire such unwavering devotion, Fred cherished his freedom and wanted the same for (y/n). He believed that, given the chance, she too could revel in the joy of genuine friendships.

She could feel his penetrating gaze like a warm breeze brushing the back of her neck. It was a peculiar sensation. Since she had unofficially accepted the title of “Fred Weasley's friend,” (y/n) had begun experiencing inexplicable emotions regarding him.

Sensing his eyes on her was just one of her peculiar talents. Her personal favourite was her knack for anticipating pranks by the twins; her gaze would instinctively find its way to the impending victim.

Leaving her Slytherin common room, she hadn't expected to encounter Fred. However, when she turned around, hoping to spot him, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Odd,” she thought, clutching her book closer to her chest. It wasn't a hefty tome; it was, in fact, a notebook where she jotted down ideas and penned the initial versions of scenes that might one day become her debut novel.

While the underwater ambience of the Slytherin common room often served as a wellspring of inspiration, that day seemed to be an exception. Hence, (y/n) had decided to grab her notebook and her trusty pen (yes, a pen; she staunchly refused to compose her muggle-inspired stories with a quill and inkwell) and head to the Quidditch pitch in search of inspiration.

During free periods or after classes, Quidditch practices were almost always happening. (y/n) hoped to find an eager and spirited team on the field to keep her writing juices flowing.

She dared to look around again before abandoning the idea that Fred Weasley was following her. So, confirming the absence of red hair, she resumed her pace.

To her relief, the Quidditch pitch was packed with a team of blue shirts. Ravenclaws weren't known for their blood on the field, not as much as Gryffindors or Hufflepuffs, but they would suffice. (y/n) selected a spot in the bleachers, tucked away in a corner high enough to observe everything but hidden from the spotlight. A few people were around, mostly students, but not in uniform, so she couldn't tell if they were opponents watching the Ravenclaws train or just supportive friends.

As she settled in, she opened her notebook, placing it on her lap, ready to transcribe the imaginary world blossoming in her mind. The words flowed effortlessly from her pen, her gaze seldom shifting from the training session. The sounds of players in action served as the ideal backdrop to her writing.

Without her realising it, the scene had shifted from focusing on battle, blows and gushing blood to an intimate moment between nameless protagonists. (y/n) had yet to fully develop their backstory, but they always made their presence known when she ventured into the realm of fairies: a tall, strong lad and a quick-witted young lady.

In the scene she was crafting, they bid each other farewell before venturing into an ongoing battle. Although their words hinted at sadness, they teased one another playfully, creating a certain ambivalence that (y/n) found challenging to convey.

She had just finished writing down the boy's response when a voice behind her remarked, “I'd change that. No battle-hardened lad would utter something so… girlish.”

(y/n) didn't even flinch. She had sensed Fred Weasley's presence earlier, and his sudden appearance was merely confirmation that she wasn't descending into madness or becoming paranoid. She felt a flicker of annoyance at the idea that he had been peeking at her notes, but with no Time-Turner to reverse the situation, she decided to take his opinion on board. Fred's perspective on how a boy would speak could enrich her literary endeavour.

“Hello, Weasley," she greeted him, her eyes on him as he gracefully hopped from the seat behind her to the vacant one beside her.

Fred, however, didn't offer a greeting in return. “Why are you here?” he cut right to the chase. 

With a casual shrug, she answered, “Felt uninspired in my common room.” She closed her notebook, a sense of finality in the gesture.

“Of course you did,” he quipped with bitterness. “That place stinks of rich kids and Death Eaters.”

Rolling her eyes, (y/n) couldn't help but feel a tinge of exasperation.

Fred had a peculiar tendency to launch into rants about the Slytherin House, a habit she never entirely understood. She was, without a doubt, a Slytherin through and through. She couldn't imagine belonging to any other house. Ambition coursed through her veins in her academic pursuits and aspirations for a successful writing career. Loyalty to her family was non-negotiable, and luckily for her, her parents weren't affiliated with the Dark Lord, making it easy to stay loyal to them.

In fact, she'd once pointed out to Fred that he'd make a perfect Slytherin himself. His ambitions were evident, especially with the joke shop he and George planned to open. His loyalty to his family, a prominent trait he shared with most Slytherins, was equally unmistakable. His lineage was as pure as anyone's at Hogwarts, if not more so. Her own mother was a half-blood witch. Yet, when she suggested this to him, he'd responded cheeky. “But red is my colour,” he'd declared, putting an end to their discussion.

“Actually,” (y/n) retorted, returning her focus to the ongoing discussion, “Slytherin’s dorms are very inspiring. But not to a battle scene; for that, I needed the smell of sweaty and strategy.”

Fred raised an eyebrow, suggesting that he found her comment rather amusing. “Leave it to the Ravenclaws to provide the strategy, eh?”

Not having an immediate response, (y/n) fell into a contemplative silence. Her eyes remained fixed on the Quidditch field, where the apparent captain of the team was engaging in a heated exchange with one of the beaters.

“So, about your writing,” Fred spoke softly, as if dipping his toes into uncertain waters, “I like it.”

Her gaze snapped to the red-haired boy, curiosity brimming in her eyes. She was always eager to hear both compliments and critiques of her work. To her, praise was uplifting, but constructive criticism was pure gold. She wondered what else he had to say.

“The battle scene sounds absolutely brilliant,” he continued as if reading her unspoken query. “Although I must admit, I missed a few lines; you write too fast, and your cursive is kind of weird.”

(y/n) showed her teeth in embarrassment. She was not used to being complimented about her cursive handwriting, so it wasn’t a surprise that Fred complained about it, but it was still embarrassing to hear about it, especially from a boy with no better penmanship.

“But you had one more complaint,” she reminded him, noticing Fred was silent.

He gulped, swallowing dry and hard.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “The lad there. You don’t know your men.”

“Excuse me?” (y/n) raised her eyebrows, and her voice unintentionally rose in volume.

Fred quickly raised his hands, a peace offering, his intent clearly non-confrontational. (y/n) relaxed a bit, realising she'd somewhat overreacted.

“Did you ever pay attention to how I talk? Or George or Lee?” Fred asked, turning his knees towards hers. Thanks to their sitting position, he towered over her, but less than usual. 

Since she'd accepted her friendship with Fred, she'd inevitably become acquainted with the others in his circle, including Lee Jordan.

“Listen,” Fred sighed, “most men aren't as eloquent as your character. They tend to be a bit more straightforward. Your 'lad' speaks in a way that's... well, a bit flowery.”

“He’s, like, from the sixteenth century,” (y/n) pointed out, defending her nameless protagonist.

“Right,” Fred said, tilting his head. “But that doesn’t actually change anything. No men would say,” and at that, he reached for her notebook without asking permission and opened it to the exact page she had been writing on. “No men would say, ‘I shall miss your sunkissed voice if this ends badly’.”

Placing her hands on her hips, (y/n) arched an eyebrow. “So, how would you put it, then?”

Fred pondered the question, trying to envision the moment in (y/n)'s book. He was not a writer and lacked the skills to be an actor, so he had to re-read the scene to know the rightful reply. He looked back down at the page before returning his gaze to her.

“Don't die,” he suggested, playing the character so well, lowering his tone to sound charming and seductive.

Unfortunately, for (y/n), her heart did a somersault in response. The scene Fred had just read involved the characters' parting words, and the simplicity of “Don't die” carried a powerful weight. It conveyed the protagonist's profound desire for his female counterpart to survive, for her loss would leave a void that could never be filled. The moment's essence was encapsulated in those two words, and Fred had delivered them perfectly.

Not that (y/n) had been planning to meet an untimely end anytime soon, but after Fred's persuasive delivery, she found herself inclined to postpone any thoughts of it indefinitely.

Observing that she hadn't averted her gaze from his eyes and noting the rapid rise and fall of her chest, (y/n) decided to seize the book from his hand swiftly.

“That was ridiculous,” she remarked, attempting to dissipate the moment's intensity with humour.

“That's how I would say it,” Fred nonchalantly shrugged, retracting his knees from their near-contact and turning his attention back to the Quidditch field.

“And who told you my protagonist is based on you, Weasley?” she quipped, tilting her head and arching an eyebrow.

Instead of being hurt by her tone of voice — this was the reaction she anticipated and expected and perhaps wanted — Fred smiled teasingly.

"Well, if you create a character described as handsome, muscular, silky-haired, and unmistakably tall, it's quite obvious to any reader that it's me," he retorted playfully.

Her mouth fell open in mock astonishment at his audacity. With an exaggerated flourish, she dropped the book onto her lap.

“And, of course, you're the female protagonist,” he continued, his smirk growing wider. “Hot-headed and cranky, who else could it be?”

(y/n)'s face contorted into a permanent grimace.

“(y/n), are you writing a fanfic about us?” he inquired, leaning closer into her personal space.

That was the final straw. (y/n) propelled herself to her feet, fueled by her irritation and fixed Fred with an accusatory finger.

“Listen here, Fred. The day I write a book about us, you can call me insane.”

Fred chuckled heartily, clearly relishing her reactions. (y/n) couldn't fathom why he found it all so amusing. Her book centred around fairies battling to regain political power; it had nothing to do with their personal lives. Fred was the one acting irrationally, suggesting it was some sort of “fanfic” and daring to entertain the notion that she would include flattering descriptions of him within the story.

If what he suspected were true, that she harboured a crush on him, then he shouldn't have found the idea humorous. Even if it were indeed fiction, he should have been repelled. (y/n) couldn't help but think that he might be secretly pleased with the notion, which irked her further. She didn't have a crush on him!

She turned on her heel with an exasperated huff and stormed away from the bleachers. However, just before she could escape earshot, she heard Fred's voice, laced with a hint of melody.

“Don't dieee!”

She was on the Quidditch pitch stands again. Only this time, there was an actual match on the field, not just a training session.

The Slytherin team zipped through the air on their latest-generation broomsticks, an annual tradition courtesy of Draco Malfoy's father. They faced off against Gryffindor, known for its fiercely competitive players. Whenever the green and red houses clashed, it was always a breathtaking spectacle.

(y/n) was gladly sitting next to Lee Jordan, narrating the game animatedly. Even when the Slytherins executed brilliant plays, his narration remained spirited. He occasionally mumbled comments about some Slytherin players but also praised them when deserved.

Only three days had passed since Fred Weasley had playfully accused her of basing her book's protagonist on him. Since then, they had seen each other and talked, but the book's topic hadn't resurfaced.

“Wow!” Lee's voice broke her concentration. “The Slytherins are really going after our beaters! I mean, sorry, they're going after the Gryffindor beaters!”

Engrossed in the match, (y/n) confirmed Lee's observation. The Slytherin beaters were prioritising targeting the Gryffindor beaters over the usual strategy of interfering with the opposing Seeker. (y/n) knew little about Quidditch's strategy, so she couldn't discern whether this was a wise move by her fellow Slytherins. However, she grew concerned for the Gryffindor beaters, who happened to be Fred and George.

She rose from her seat, her eyes following the twins' every move.

“The crowd is getting worried!” Lee Jordan's voice resonated, and (y/n) turned to face him. He raised his shoulders innocently as if to say he was just calling it as he saw it. Before she could reprimand him, Lee resumed narrating the game. “Oh, no! They're targeting Fred Weasley. Both beaters against one guy; not fair!”

Fred Weasley's name caused (y/n) to search the sky anxiously, her eyes scanning the field for his broom. The atmosphere was tense. She had attended the match in neutral black attire and sat beside Lee, determined not to favour any team. Although she had recently become acquainted with half of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, she couldn't help but feel allegiance to her house. Despite her intentions, the sight of Fred being targeted stirred worry within her. She left Lee's side and hurried down the bleacher stairs, seeking a better vantage point of the unfolding events on the pitch.

“And Fred's been hit! Fred Weasley is hit. Was it fair?” Lee's voice reached her ears as she made her way down. “Oh, I see. Oliver Wood, Gryffindor’s captain, is asking for a break, a time-out. Let’s give them ten minutes to regroup. We'll be back shortly.”

(y/n) turned back against the field and found Lee’s eyes through the crowd. She was grateful for the encouragement he silently offered with a nod. It was the nudge she needed to practically leap down the remainder of the bleacher steps, racing toward the Gryffindor Changing Room.

Luckily for her, the stands were consistently high, so in the actual field, there was nobody. She quickly reached the right spot but hesitated behind the curtain doors, listening intently. Oliver was addressing the team, urging them to regain their focus. Harry only needed to catch the Golden Snitch, and with Oliver as the Keeper, they would fend off the Slytherins from scoring further.

Summoning her courage, (y/n) poked her head through the curtain doors.

“Fred?” she murmured, but her voice carried to all the players.

(y/n) saw Fred, all sweaty, squeezing a water container over his face, drinking only half of it. “(y/n)?” he asked, confused by her presence.

She took the opportunity to step fully into the Changing Room. The other players exchanged knowing glances but remained silent; they understood she wasn't an enemy. (y/n) had interacted with Oliver, Angelina, and, of course, Harry Potter himself. Their glances spoke more of intrigue as if they were silently questioning the stage of her relationship with Fred.

Fred handed his now-empty water bottle to George, who appeared equally puzzled about what to do with it. Fred then retrieved his bat from the floor and approached (y/n), who remained fixed in her spot, somewhat intimidated by her unfamiliar surroundings.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her worry palpable. “Are you hurt?”

Fred kept moving closer. “I'm fine,” he assured her.

She nodded, darting over Fred’s shoulder, peeking at George. “And you, George? Are you alright?” 

George nodded affirmatively just as Oliver cleared his throat.

“Well, let's regroup outside,” Oliver instructed the team. With that, the players rose from their seats in a flash.

They left the Changing Room, leaving only Fred behind, and George was the last one to go, for he lingered a bit, moving with deliberate slowness. His eyes remained fixed on Fred and (y/n), and as the others filed out, it became evident that Oliver had called them out to grant the pair some much-needed privacy.

As the room emptied, (y/n) seized the chance to scrutinise Fred's face. The water had washed away the grime, revealing his striking features. He looked almost dishevelled, his heart beating fast, and a rosy hue tinged his cheeks. His damp hair was in complete disarray, the ends defiantly pointing in all directions. He seemed to sense her gaze on his unruly locks and ran a hand through them to tame them, achieving only partial success.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Her voice was soft, carrying genuine concern as she narrowed the gap between them, her fingertips yearning to touch Fred's face. “Lee mentioned you got hit.”

Her gentle touch seemed to kindle a fire within Fred. His face flushed, and he stuttered slightly, turning his head to the right when she reached for him.

“Where did the Bludger hit you?” she inquired, studying his face for any signs of injury. His features appeared unscathed, although his cheeks radiated with warmth.

“It grazed my right ear,” he replied, and she instinctively turned his face further to examine the ear. It was only slightly reddened, no worse than the rest of his face.

“I'm sorry they're targeting you,” she uttered with a slow breath, her concern deepening. Her hands left his face, but Fred turned his chin to face her.

“It's part of the game,” Fred shrugged.

Fred had never seen (y/n) like this before. After weeks of their friendship, this was the first time he had witnessed her express genuine concern.

“I know,” she sighed. “That doesn’t mean it’s fair. Or easy to watch.”

“It’s not a battle,” he noted, gingerly alluding to her book.  “No one’s gonna die.”

“But some are going to get hurt,” she stated, her gaze fixed on his ear, her worry etched across her features.

Fred loomed over her, his taller stature requiring her to tilt her head upward to meet his eyes and see his facial expressions. Usually, she appreciated that he was taller, but at that moment, it seemed to create an unwelcome distance.

An unspoken question lingered in (y/n)’s mind: What was she doing there? Why had she hurried to the Changing Room?

“Well,” she cleared her throat, avoiding his gaze, “if you're okay, then I should head back. You know, to watch you win or whatever.”

He smiled at her awkwardness, a not uncommon sight when it came to (y/n). He'd witnessed her awkwardness before, often finding it endearing. She sometimes struggled with conversation, especially with other people, leading to uncertain moments. Fred couldn't help but find those moments rather cute.

“You're not cheering for your own house?” he inquired, the corners of his mouth hinting at an impending smirk.

She pressed the inner corner of her mouth with her teeth, pondering her response. “Not when they're being unfair.”

“Three days ago, I swear you wouldn't have said it's unfair if they were targeting me,” he finally allowed that smirk to surface. It was the second subtle reference to her book, or at least a hint at that day, making (y/n) shy.

“Sometimes I want to hit you, Weasley,” she teased, her tone playful despite her lingering concern.

Fred chuckled, closing the distance between them, if that was even possible.

“Do it,” he taunted, his eyes dancing mischievously.

Her gaze met his, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was genuinely asking for it. She certainly had her reasons to want to hit him. First, for teasing her relentlessly. Second, for insisting on being her friend. Third, for involving her with all of his other friends. And now, that — whatever that was.  She was eager to touch him, just not to do it in the form of a slap. 

Something else fluttered in her stomach, and she hated it, and she hated Fred for it.

“Come on, (y/n),” he teased again, his smirk widening.

Her frustration reached its peak. How dare he jest with her after all the concern she had shown? She had never rushed to find someone before and loathed how unappreciative he seemed.

Without thinking, (y/n) closed the distance between them. Not with a slap, as Fred had half-expected, but with a kiss. It was so swift that Fred barely registered it until he felt her cool lips against his warm ones. A sigh escaped her as she realised he wasn't pushing her away.

And how could he? Fred had yearned for this moment for so long, through countless sleepless nights, because sleep meant dreams, and every dream was about her. Whether he imagined (y/n) seeking help with a prank and then kissing him, or (y/n) struggling with grades and asking for comfort through a kiss, or even the most sensual dreams where she broke into his Gryffindor dorm room wearing nothing but her panties.

Whatever had prompted (y/n) to kiss him, Fred was beyond caring. He hoped she wouldn't stop. He abandoned his mantra of ignoring his romantic feelings for her, forgetting they were meant to be just friends.

Fred kissed her passionately, willingly, leaving his bat forgotten on the floor as he held her close. His hands found her waist, lifting her slightly, bringing her nearer as he devoured her lips.

For (y/n), it felt like paradise. She'd never been kissed before, though she had read about it. Still, she'd assumed a kiss was just lips meeting, nothing more. She hadn't expected her first kiss to be like a scene from a romance novel, but it was. She experienced everything the heroines in her favourite books described: a warmth that started low in her belly and surged upward, a desire to merge completely with Fred. She clutched his red hair as if her life depended on it as if she depended on him.

“Fred! Come on!” a voice from outside yelled so loudly that it snapped both of them back to reality.

Fred was in the middle of a Quidditch match, but somehow, he had just kissed (y/n).

Slowly, he released her, and she stared back at him, her face flushed a deep shade of red, much like his hair. Her hand reached for her own lips as if trying to comprehend that what had just happened was real. She had been kissed. By Fred Weasley.

“We have just a minute, Fred!” the voice shouted again, and this time, (y/n) realised it was Oliver Wood, their captain, yelling.

“I think you have to go,” she said, her voice slightly shaky.

Fred nodded, placing his hands on his hips.

“Like now, Freddie,” she added, and her raised eyebrows conveyed the situation's urgency.

He burst back to reality, hastily retrieving his bat from the floor. Rushing toward the curtained exit, he glanced back at her.

Did he really kiss his best friend when he swore he wouldn’t?

They shared a glance. He would have to be content with that one kiss, for he could never pursue anything more if he wanted (y/n) to maintain her friendships because she was now finally opening up for that possibility.

“Don't die,” she murmured, her tone serious, but a laugh escaped her as she made the witty remark.

Finally, he left the Changing Room. For if he stayed any longer, he feared he would have to kiss her laughter away from her lips.

[dreamcubed]

enchanted | fred weasley x reader

song; enchanted [taylor swift] pairing; fredweasley x fem!ravenclaw!singer!reader genre; s2l, f2l, fluff word count; 2,1k timeline; goblet of fire warnings; mentions of anxiety, mentions of drugs summary; maybe volunteering to sing at the yule ball would mean that your crush would finally notice you, and maybe you could have a wonderfully enchanting night as a result

masterlist

i might consider a speak now anthology... but not until after lover and reputation are done. i just had to use this song for this idea...

"please don't be in love with someone else."

————————————————

The purple sparkles glistening on your cheekbones gave your complexion an ethereal type of blush, accented by your magnificent lilac princess gown that spilled out at your hips. Your hair was perfectly styled, with delicate purple butterflies pinned in various places. This was a night that you had been rehearsing over and over for weeks now - and you couldn't fuck up this moment.

With a squeeze on your arm from your nearest and dearest friend, Jean, you gave a tight lipped smile and moved towards the stage. It felt as if the world stopped when you gripped the microphone in your hand, and silence fell upon the ballroom. You had been unable to think of a good introduction, so decided that delving right into the song was the best course of action. You heard the guitar begin.

"There I was again tonight Forcing laughter, faking smiles Same old tired, lonely place."

As you opened your eyes, you scanned the crowd for the one person whose eyes you wanted pinned on you: the tuft of ginger hair that you had gazed at longingly from a distance for so long. You could tell him apart from his twin brother, quite easily tonight as while George was partnered up with Angelina Johnson, Fred remained dateless. It could only have been a personal choice, as he could have had any girl he wanted.

Including you.

"Walls of insincerity Shifting eyes and vacancy Vanished when I saw your face."

Your eyes locked on to his, and you remembered the moment you first laid eyes on him back in first year.

***

The glance of you, an awkward eleven year old, towards a ginger-haired boy at Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Well, one of multiple ginger-haired boys. And, despite another of them being identical to him, he stood out to you like the shiny full moon in a starry sky. Maybe it was the cheeky grin he had on his face as he watched what appeared to be his elder brother realise that something had been shoved down his pants, or maybe it was the fact he seemed to be brimming with confidence.

For a shy child such as yourself, seeing someone of such the opposite genre, unafraid to be loud and proud— it was a spectacle. You were in awe.

And that was when he turned around and caught you staring. Heat rushed to your ears and you immediately turned away, hiding next to your mother, hearing the sound of his pleasant laughter in the background. You didn't think you would fancy someone at Hogwarts so quickly, and even young naïve you knew that it would be an all-consuming crush.

***

"All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you."

Never had you had his, and everyone else's, full attention quite like this. It made you feel like the goddamn belle of the ball, which was nerve-wracking but exhilarating. You gripped the microphone tighter, letting more memories flood over you, including the first time you exchanged words with Fred.

"Your eyes whispered, 'Have we met?' 'Cross the room your silhouette Starts to make its way to me."

***

Your first charms lesson, practising a simple levitation charm with feathers: a class that you happened to share with who you learned to be the Weasley twins. You couldn't help but glance at him every few seconds, to the point that you lost control of your feather and it went flying in his direction. Eyes growing wide out of shock, you quickly scurried out of your seat and over to where they were sat.

"This yours?" who you now knew to be Fred asked.

You nodded.

"Here you go," he said, passing it over with a smile, "Be more careful next time. You're lucky it's just a feather."

Embarrassment swarmed over you, and you wordlessly nodded yet again, grabbing the feather and hurrying back to your seat.

***

Despite such a humiliating first interaction, you grew in confidence over the years, and your crush on him became less debilitating.

"The playful conversation starts Counter all your quick remarks Like passing notes in secrecy."

***

"Hey, Y/N, you were at Jean's party over the Summer, you saw Cho grinding up on Cedric in the living room didn't you?" your Gryffindor friend asked you as you walked past their table to your own. You stopped walking and chuckled.

"No, I didn't. I spent most the time upstairs."

She rolled her eyes, "Yeah with the druggies."

You shook your head at her.

"You act like such a goody-two-shoes at school but you're secretly a party animal."

"Y/N L/N, a party animal? No way," Fred Weasley piped up from nearby.

You shrugged, "You wouldn't know. You didn't even get invited."

You watched as amusement flitted over his eyes at your remark. "Touché, L/N."

***

"And it was enchanting to meet you All I can say is I was enchanted to meet you."

You began walking to one side of the stage, soaking in all the attention being on you which would have driven you to a panic attack in first year. It still made you scared, but you could handle the feeling a lot better these days.

"This night is sparkling Don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck Blushing all the way home."

People began cheering as you picked up your volume.

***

In third year, you got assigned to be Fred's partner in a potions practical, as Snape did not let the twins be paired up under any circumstances. Despite your hatred of the man, you couldn't blame him for that move. And in that instance, you thanked him.

"I'm a lot luckier than George."

"What do you mean?" you asked as you laid out all the ingredients.

"He's partnered with a Slytherin guy, I'm with a pretty Ravenclaw girl."

You froze, relishing in the compliment without trying to appear too embarrassed. "Uh, thanks."

You heard him chuckle, "Like you've never heard it before."

Not from anyone but your mother.

***

"I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you."

When you had found out about the Yule Ball, you had been sick to your stomach thinking about seeing Fred with another girl. Every time he had briefly dated over the last few years had killed you, and this was no exception. So, you had thrown yourself into rehearsals and almost entirely isolated yourself, only to find out that Fred hadn't asked anyone and had come alone.

"The lingering question kept me up 2am, who do you love? I wonder 'til I'm wide awake."

Why, though? Why hadn't he asked anyone? Why did he choose solitude and embarrassment over a lovely night of dancing and eventual making out?

"And now I'm pacing back and forth Wishing you were at my door I'd open up and you would say 'Hey, it was enchanting to meet you' All I know is I was enchanted to meet you."

You had spent a lot of time wishing he would ask you, and as you entered the second chorus, you found yourself shutting your eyes and dreaming that he would kiss and hug you when you left the stage. Telling you that he was so incredibly proud of you and that you were the most beautiful girl in the world.

"This night is sparkling Don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck Blushing all the way home."

You opened your eyes and let yourself have another glimpse of his face.

"I'll spend forever wondering if you knew This night is flawless Don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck Dancing around all alone."

Alas, you did not have a date, and would likely be spending the rest of this evening dancing exclusively with friends— or maybe even alone, if they were busy with their dates. But, a girl could dream, and you could so easily imagine Fred approaching you and asking you for a dance.

"I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you."

***

You frowned as you saw, for the first time, the Weasley twins in the Hogwarts library. For some reason, you highly doubted that their intentions were educational. Regardless, they appeared lost.

"Need some help?" you offered, beckoning all your courage to do so.

"What? No, we're good. We're fine," Fred said quite too suddenly.

You raised an eyebrow, "I'm not here to snitch, you just seem a bit confused."

They exchanged a look with each other.

"Okay," George sighed, "We're looking for the sludge based charms section."

***

"This is me praying that This was the very first page Not where the storyline ends."

This was was your second to last year of Hogwarts, and you couldn't have that be the end of your interactions with Fred. You needed to have more than that, you needed to communicate your feelings, you needed to feel his embrace. Unfortunately, you were a coward with love, and so you were going to extreme means to attract him so he would do the initiating. Rowena knows you were desperate.

"My thoughts will echo your name Until I see you again These are the words I held back As I was leaving too soon."

In a moment of adrenaline rush bravery, you firmly locked your eyes on to the man you had pined after for years. You hoped he was close enough to the stage to realise that you were looking at him.

"I was enchanted to meet you."

And as the backing vocals picked up, you lowered your microphone and gave a nervous smile as you watched his face contort in shock. He raised a finger and gestures to his chest, as if to say, "Me?"

You nodded, raising your microphone again.

"Please don't be in love with someone else Please don't have somebody waiting on you!"

The corners you had stood in, the people you had hidden behind, the conversations you had avoided— they were history. You had overcome your fears, and it only took you nearly six years. Now, no matter what came of this, you couldn't look back and regret not confessing.

"This night is sparkling Don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck Blushing all the way home."

Maybe he felt the same, or at least had the potential to feel the same. Maybe he had realised that you were no longer the awkward eleven year old with a nose that was too big for her face and a haircut that did nothing for her features.

"I'll spend forever wondering if you knew This night is flawless Don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck Dancing around all alone."

The crowd had melted away, and you couldn't even hear your own anxiety as you let the song absorb you. You refused to let yourself live to regret this moment.

"I'll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you."

A part of the song that you could officially say did not describe you: he knew. Fred knew. He knew that you were enchanted to meet him, that your thoughts echoed his name, that you had held so many words back. And with that thought, you let yourself return to Earth, settling in the middle of the stage as you gently sung the final words.

"Please don't be in love with someone else Please don't have somebody waiting on you."

Cheers erupted from all around you: Durmstrang, Beauxbatons and Hogwarts. You took a bow, unable to wipe the grin off your face as you were applauded, deciding to ignore for that moment any consequences of your actions. That continued when you left the stage and your friends greeted you with hugs and compliments— until Jean pulled you aside and muttered.

"You looked at him."

"What?" you feigned confusion.

She gave you a look, "Don't play dumb. You sang the song at Weasley."

"I- yeah," you admitted.

"Well, don't leave him waiting."

This time, you were genuinely confused, "What?"

She nudged her head to her left, where you turned to see that Fred was patiently waiting for you to finish talking to your friends. "Go get him, girl."

You took a deep breath and nodded with a smile, walking towards the man who held your heart.

"Hi," you murmured, feeling shy again.

"Hi," he said softly, his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Did you like my-?"

"I loved it," he cut you off.

You smiled abashedly.

"Can I have this dance?" he asked as the music began picking up again.

You accepted his extended hand, "You can have every dance."

And Fred grinned.

———————————————

masterlist

written; 17/03/2024 —> 07/04/2024 published; 07/04/2024 edited; —/—/——

[shadowbriar]

Fred Gideon Weasley Masterlist

♤ Angst - ♡ Fluff - ✮ AU - ♛ Popular

One-shot

♤ Cherry: Inspired by Cherry by Harry Styles.  Fred thought that by distancing himself, he could do more protection than damage. What he didn’t know is that from this separation, she might have found another man to lean in to.

♡ Oblivious Weasley: "Why are you daft, Fred?" Overthinking and assumptions silently creates the wall that separate the two lovers. As one starts to turn and knock on another door, could they finally meet in the middle before it was too late?

♡♛ I Love you: Years of prank wars finally lead to unintended harm that makes one realise, enough is enough.  

♤ Bridges: In which Fred tries to spare himself the heartbreak from falling for someone he's supposed to love as a sister.  

♤  Stuck on the Puzzle: Inspired by Stuck on the Puzzle by Alex Turner. Having arrived late to the mansion after every attempt of stalling time, Fred finally gathered his last fragment of courage and joined the pre-wedding party, keeping in mind to drink every cocktail on sight so that he’ll be hammered enough tomorrow to skip the wedding.  

♤ Outgrown [Prompt Request]: “I’d ask but judging by the look on your eyes, I can already tell that you’ve closed our chapter.”      

♤♡ Selene and Helios [Prompt Request]: “It has always been you.”

♤♡ Pick Up Where We Left Off: One last Christmas with the Weasleys, would she find her closure from his sudden withdrawal years ago?  

♤ Mother: The fact that their relationship didn't work out was such a tragedy no one could have expected and Fred has no one else to blame but himself.

♡ Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve: The three times Fred Weasley should've professed his feelings and the one time he finally did.

♤ Clandestine Love: His unwillingness to come out of the shadows have finally caused him greater damage one couldn't possibly fix.

Series

♤ Fallen Potter [On-going]: The plan was beautifully designed. False information has also been carried to the Ministry of Magic in hope that the Death Eaters would buy it, giving them the window to transport Harry safely tonight. But just like the calm before storm, Fred has to let go his source of oxygen as one Potter falls.    Part I

[desideriumwriter]

i'm thinking about an angry love confession in the quidditch pitch with either of the twins. while it's raining. PLEASE

(also i'm loving anyone but you, i can't wait for the next chapter 😭)

you are a saint for this request, i love you. i live for the dramatics. take this as an apology for the other love confession blurb <3 oh and more aby is on its on its way i pinkyyyy promise!

wc: 761

f.w. masterlist | navi

You were pissed. You’d come out all the way to the Quidditch Pitch by yourself to watch Fred practice, just because he asked you to. Only to end up disappointed and rained on.

Oliver was nice enough today to end practice shorter than usual due to the sudden heavy rain.

Already soaked enough from the run you had to make from the spot you were sitting on the bleachers to underneath them, you crossed your arms as you waited for Fred to get done talking with Angelina.

Soon they parted ways, Angelina stroking his arm as he walked away. The scowl on your face didn’t go unnoticed by Fred once he turned to you.

“You okay?” He walked up to you, broom still in hand and a smile still on his face from whatever humorous conversation he was having.

“Why do you even bother asking me here if you’re just gonna gawk at Angelina the entire time?” You muttered, looking at the wet grass.

“I don’t gawk at her.” Fred scoffed in disbelief. “What’s going on?” He lowered his chin, trying to get a look at your face.

“Whatever, I’m going back to the castle.” You shrugged, arguing with him was like talking to a wall.

“I- What’s the matter with you?” He grimaced, dropping his broom and following you as you went out into the rain. You didn’t respond, only muttering something about wanting to get back to your room.

“Hey, come on, stop. You’re acting all strange.“ Fred grabbed your shoulder, you shrugged him off.

“I’m not gonna let you walk all the way back alone in the rain, you know? You’re worrying me.” He grabbed your shoulder again, this time you whipped around angrily.

“Why do you care? Why don’t you go and continue on flirting with Angelina?” Your words were spilling out your mouth with no control, pure jealousy was spewing out of you.

“Where’s all this come from? What’s your problem?” Fred stuttered a bit, clearly taken aback by your sudden outburst.

“This! This is my problem!” You went on, tearing your hood off your head. Your robes were completely soaked now and doing no help to shield you from the rain.

“I show up to your practices and games every single time you ask, I watch and I wait for you, just for you to go straight over to her!” You exclaimed.

“I’ve been trying to get you to figure it out but you're always busy with your pranks and practice and- and her!” Your voice wavered, yet you were too angry to feel embarrassed yet.

“I thought maybe you’d notice, maybe you’d see, but I can’t keep waiting and hoping while you’re off with someone else! And if I could just tell you then maybe you’d realize!” You blurted out. You were praying the raindrops hitting would disguise the tears that had begun to fall from your eyes.

“Then tell me! What is it?” Fred huffed, frustration in his tone.

You opened your mouth but only a shaky breath came out. You were hesitant and holding back, knowing that if you told him everything between you would go one of two ways.

“Come on, tell me what this big issue is! What?” He pushed one more time, causing you to break.

“I’m in love with you, you git! That’s what!” You yelled, voice slightly cracking. Fred’s face dropped.

The truth was laid bare and the both of you were silent, the pouring rain around you working as ambient noise.

"Say something," you hoarsely whispered. "Please say something." You tried to steady your heaving breath and racing heart, but Fred’s face didn’t help at all.

You felt like an idiot. You closed your eyes, wishing you could go back and have this never happen.

You were ripped out of your self-dwelling once two hands cupped your face and pulled you in. His lips are on yours, the coldness of the rain is replaced by the warmth of his skin, and you absolutely melt into it.

Once you finally broke apart, Freds hands still remained holding your face, making him look at you, his expression had shifted to a softer look.

“I don’t want Angelina, I want you.” His voice was gentle, “She doesn't compare to you. No one does.” He kissed you again, leaving you breathless.

“I don’t understand, if you felt the same, why didn’t you say anything?” You stammered, this was honestly the last thing you expected.

“I didn’t really think you'd be interested in a git like me.” He smiled and shrugged.

tell me what you thought!

[joka13]

FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 31

WARNINGS: light kissing

"Merlin's beard..." Fred whispers in disbelief.

"We've done it!" you exclaim, squealing cheerily and clapping your hands together.

"No," George says. "You've done it!" He stands up, taking your hand and leading you into an energetic dance. You both laugh as he spins you around.

"I hardly did anything," you humbly point out. "The Room gave me the last ingredient."

Before you can think about it, George passes you to Fred, who rolls his eyes and says, "Whatever! You found all of the other pieces." He ends the dance with a dip. As he cradles you in his arms, Fred leans down so his face is only inches away from yours. You can't help but giggle as he proceeds to plant multiple kisses all over your face. "Thank you, y/n," Fred says sincerely, then kisses you once more on the lips.

"Aww," you swoon and blush as Fred lifts you upright. "It was nothing really..."

"Let's collect the remaining nougat!" George says, rubbing his hands together excitedly before placing his bag on the table by the cauldron. "We can start selling tomorrow!"

Fred goes to help his twin carefully cut the purple candy into small rectangles. "Our Skiving Snackboxes are now complete!"

At hearing these words, a feeling of dread wells up inside you. The first time you'd felt this particular dread, you'd told yourself to simply stop worrying. But now that the moment had come in which the Weasley twins would no longer have use for your academic skills, you begin to panic.

"No... no, no, no, no..." you whisper. You turn away so that Fred and George don't see the tears in your eyes. But, before you can pull yourself together, the twins notice that something is wrong. The shuffling sounds at the table behind you stop.

"Y/n?" Fred asks.

"Are you alright?" George finishes.

"I-I'm fine," you reply, though your shaky voice betrays you.

You cover your face in shame as you hear the twins' footsteps coming toward you.

"Hey, hey," Fred's voice says softly, concerned. You feel his fingers try to coax your hands away from your face, but you keep your palms tight over your leaking eyes, moving away and accidentally bumping into George.

George steadies you with a gentle hug. "What's the matter?" he asks.

You choke. "It's stupid..."

"Your feelings aren't stupid," Fred consoles. His fingers pry at yours once again, and this time you let him pull your hands away from your face. You look up to meet his eyes as he stands behind George, resting his chin on his brother's shoulder. He gives you an empathetic, crooked smile. The sight of it overwhelms you, bringing more tears to your eyes, and you hide your face against George's chest.

"Talk to us," George encourages. He rubs your back soothingly.

You take in a deep breath. "I... I got t-the idea into m-my head a while back... that when I was finished h-helping you with project nosebleed..." you sniff. "You wouldn't... w-want me around anymore..."

For a moment that felt like a lifetime, neither of the twins speak. Then you feel George's hold loosen around you, and you look up at his face in confusion.

"You're right," George says, his brow furrowing and his mouth in a frown. "That is stupid."

"George!" Fred hisses at him, but you just chuckle gingerly.

"I know, I know..."

George takes a step back as Fred quickly comes forward to hold your hands. He kisses the top of each. You won't look him in the eyes, so he crouches down to where he can see yours.

"Y/n," Fred sighs, shaking his head and smiling. "Have our previous affections meant nothing to you?"

You start to defend yourself. "W-well, there are some people in this world—"

You hadn't noticed him come up behind you, so you gasp in surprise when George's arms snake around your waist. He kisses the top of your head and continues, going down your temple and to your ear. He nibbles at it, causing you to giggle and squirm, but he holds you in place.

"We have no intention of ever leaving you," George whispers into your ear, and you love the sound of his voice, for something about it makes you sure he's telling the truth.

"In fact," Fred begins, pausing to glance at George attentively. You sense a moment of tension, and then George nods. Fred grins ecstatically and goes on. "We were hoping you would leave with us."

TAG LIST: @tomhockstetter7-111 @jasm-1ne @costheticbabe @luthien-elvenia-asher @megablonde22 @thecuteavocado @weasleylady92 @websfromallthespiders @rubyintheforest @weasleylover4eva @georgeweasleyslostearhq @im-coolrat @them-cute-boys @xmadigurlx @keirasinbin @huayan

[nottswitch]

hey! i lovelovelove your writing and i was hoping you could do a fred weasley x ravenclaw!reader (fem) and theyre just being cute and fluffy at the library brainstorming products and he suddenly ropes the reader into a prank and the reader pretends to disapprove but after a lot of banter she eventually admits that she does think hes brilliant and just. fluff.

thank you!

hi there and thank you! <3 i’m so sorry it took me this long to get to your request, but i hope you’re still here!! love the fred x ravenclaw dynamic so so much, i hope you enjoy this!

warning: ravenclaw!reader, light swearing, fluff fluff fluff

wc: 1.3k

۶ৎ navigation ; masterlist ; fred m-list ; how to request

When Fred got you, he was, for the lack of a better word, absolutely thrilled. Not only were you absolutely gorgeous and could handle his and George’s sense of humor, you were also a Ravenclaw – and the top of your class, no less, which for the Weasley brothers was similar to hitting a gold mine. It was only a matter of time before they could, using their irresistible charm and maybe some of Fred’s personal tactics, persuade you to help them with new developments for the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes shop. And you did from time to time, reluctantly, as it wasn’t entirely appropriate for a prim and proper Ravenclaw like you, but you secretly enjoyed it.

On one of those days, on a warm, spring evening, you were sitting at the library, studying, as usual. As your nose was firmly in a Potions book, you didn’t hear footsteps slowly approaching you from behind. Only when a pair of soft yet firm hands obstructed your view of the academic text did you realize that you’d been creeped up on.

“Guess who?” a familiar voice with an unmistakable hint of mischief wondered. You giggled and pressed your hands against his, even though there was no real need – you’d recognize them anywhere.

“Freddie,” you murmured, a smile spreading on your lips. You hadn’t seen your boyfriend in a while, and the unexpected encounter was more than welcome, in your book.

"In the flesh."

Your eyes ached a bit after the hands covering them were removed and the warm, bright light of the library candles hit them again. But the ache was quickly soothed by a pair of lips pressed against yours in a short yet passion-filled kiss. You frowned when Fred pulled away, your face jerking forward to chase him, but the grin stretching his mouth immediately erased the crease between your eyebrows. You could never be upset when he looked this happy.

"Studying again?" Fred asked, smirking as he mindlessly flipped through the pages of the book in front of you, not paying the texts any real attention. You nodded, letting out a sigh – of course, for someone as smart as you, studying wasn’t the biggest chore, but sometimes, even the greatest of minds needed some rest, some distraction.

Seeing your covertly tired expression, Fred’s eyes softened, but the mischievous smirk on his lips never left. "Come on, honey cheeks, lighten up," he said in a lighthearted manner, plopping down into the chair next to you and closing your textbook shut with a loud noise.

"Fred!” you whisper-yelled, hoping that Madam Pince didn’t hear the sudden disturbance of the silence in her precious library. Your boyfriend simply grinned, seemingly unbothered, and rummaged through his bag for a moment. With a victorious ‘got it!’ he fished out a small bar of what looked like chocolate and placed it on the table, giving you a proud look.

The look should’ve been a clear sign, but your hand still reached for the bar, thinking it was just one of the usual sweets Fred got you from time to time, “just to see your pretty smile”, as he himself put it. But evidently, it wasn’t the case, because his hand quickly moved to shield the chocolate from yours.

"Oh no, hun, I wouldn’t eat it if I were you," Fred said, the smirk on his lips widening, making a dimple on his left cheek pop out. "Unless you want to have your ears wiping the ground, that is."

You raised an eyebrow in confusion at first, but as the gears in your brain turned, you started understanding exactly what was happening. The realization made you roll your eyes.

"Again?" you breathed out, looking at Fred with an exasperated but also somewhat amused expression. It seemed like every week him and George would come up with something new for their shop, and this time, it seemed to be… a chocolate bar.

"Oh, you know it, honey cheeks."

Fred grabbed the product, tossing it into the air, catching it and swiftly bringing it to your face, which made you flinch and giggle at the same time.

"Let me present to you, my love, the best punishment for the especially nosy – Prying Prick’s Plague. The title’s a work in progress."

You chuckled, shaking your head at his antics. It wasn’t the first time, and of course, wouldn’t be the last, you knew it all too well. You pretended to give him a disapproving look about the ‘prick’ part, but all that came out was a very adorable – in Fred’s opinion – scowl.

"What?" Fred asked, raising an eyebrow back at you. He twirled the chocolate bar between his nimble fingers, tossing and catching it again. "It makes your ears turn really damn huge. Just what nosy pricks need."

"Yeah? Why do I feel like this was made with someone in mind?" You narrowed your eyes at the boy in front of you, suspiciously staring him down. He looked a bit too mischievous even for his usual self.

"Ah, darling, perceptive as always," Fred praised in a dramatic manner, giving you a pat on the back. You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. "We did have someone in mind. And here, my love, is where you come into the picture."

"Huh?"

You furrowed your forehead, your expression turning a bit dumbfounded. Sure, the brothers appreciated your expertise on their stuff, but they had never tried to actually… use you in one of their endless pranks. And it seemed like Fred was suggesting exactly that.

Fred let out a short chuckle at your cute, puzzled face, and reached out with his hand to caress your hair, as if he was soothing you. A ‘tsk’ could be heard coming out of your mouth, but you didn’t pull away, letting him pet you.

"Don’t worry, hun, it’s nothing too bad," Fred murmured, but the smirk still tugging at the corner of his mouth was too playful for your liking. "You’re tutoring Malfoy in Herbology, right?"

"Yeah," you confirmed, irritation briefly flicking through the depth of your eyes. The guy’s ambition to become a Healer was a commendable one, but his skills in Herbology were, for the lack of a better word, not present.

"And you would agree that he’s a prying prick, right?"

"Um…"

Sure, Malfoy could be annoying. And he always seemed to have his nose in everybody’s business, thinking his "valuable input" was, in fact, valuable. But surely, Fred didn’t mean…?

"Yeah." Fred’s single word seemed to confirm your thoughts, as if he was reading your mind.

"No way. You actually want to…?"

"And with your help, no less."

Fred grinned when the scowl on your face turned even more disapproving. He slipped his hand from your head down to your face, her knuckles softly brushing against the apples of your cheeks. He always thought you were totally adorable like that, all mad at him for yet another disturbance of peace he was planning to cause. This time, it was even better, since you were also going to be involved. And he knew that you were going to – even underneath your prim and proper exterior, a spark of excitement always flickered whenever he told you about his and George’s pranks.

"Merlin, you’re insufferable," you groaned, still leaning into Fred’s touch, unable to resist the warmth of his loving hand caressing your face.

"And you love it, hun," he responded, giving you a sly wink, knowing exactly what it always did to you. "Just admit it – I’m brilliant. And my dear brother, of course, but mostly me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," you muttered, begrudgingly agreeing with his cocky statement. The image of Malfoy with huge floppy ears was indeed a pretty hilarious one, and his inevitable tantrum would definitely be a sight to behold.

Fred laughed at your reluctant admission of his superior thinking and affectionately pecked your cheek. What a delight you were – gorgeous, smart and secretly, a bit wicked. His dream girl.

[lovegoodlane]

Pursuing the Prefect - 2

3.6k words

18+ only

Warnings: sexual content, teasing, oral sex [male receiving]

Summary: Fred continues to try to woo his favorite prefect, but he doesn't expect her to reciprocate his teasing (shy Fred, sub (kind of) Fred)

I intended for the last part to be a one-shot, but it was more popular than I expected. Here is a part two -- there might be more!

Link to part 1

----

It was Monday morning, and you had realized over the weekend that you still had Fred's scarf. After your encounter with him on Saturday night, you were keen on keeping your distance. You weren't just going to run into his arms, you were too stubborn for that. He was going to have to work for it.

In typical Monday fashion, you got dressed and gathered your backpack before heading to the Great Hall for breakfast. This would be the first time that you had been in the same room as Fred since Saturday, and the thought made your stomach dance with nervous butterflies.

You had told Beatrice about your semi-hook up with Fred, but you had kept the information from Cho. You knew that she was only going to judge you and advise you not to associate with someone like Fred. You had no need for advice like that.

As you took your seat at breakfast, you noticed that a certain ginger was absent. His twin was at the Gryffindor table, talking animatedly about something with a group of younger students. They were almost always together, and this immediately struck you as strange.

You tried not to think about it, hurriedly eating your breakfast so you could get to Potions early. You had a question about the assignment that was given over the weekend, and you intended to ask Snape about it before class began.

"I'll see you later," you said to your group before departing. You looked around for Fred again, but he still wasn't in the Great Hall.

You stepped into the hallway, adjusting your leather backpack on your shoulders as you turned to head toward the Potions classroom. As you passed an empty classroom, someone grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside.

You let out a small shriek, obviously startled. Standing in front of you was Fred Weasley, red hair perfectly tousled and a bouquet of wildflowers in his hands. His black eye was still visible, but it was less prominent than before. 

"Sorry to startle you, birdie," he said, a grin finding its way to his lips. "I went out this morning to pick these for you."

He handed you the wildflowers, the same soft look in his eye that was present on Saturday night. You took the bouquet, unable to suppress your own smile. That's why he wasn't at breakfast.

"Thank you, Weasley," you said, inspecting the flowers. They were still wet with morning dew and a bit wilted, as the fall weather did not lend itself well to flourishing botanicals.

"I wanted to walk you to class this morning," he said, taking a step closer to you.

"Sure, but that doesn't make you my boyfriend," you replied, reminding him of your relationship. Or rather, your lack thereof. 

"I know, darling," he said, finally close enough to put his arms around your waist. "I know that you're stubborn. But you will be mine, I promise."

You set the flowers on a nearby desk, placing your own hands on his shoulders and running them upwards to lace into his hair. You stared at each other for a few moments, taking each other in.

You loved the way he looked in his uniform. His Gryffindor tie was always just a tad crooked, but you found it endearing. He looked rather preppy with his sweater on today underneath his robes. You pictured Fred in a pair of a nerdy glasses for a moment, causing a giggle to escape your lips.

"Is something funny, birdie?" he asked, pulling you closer so he could talk right into your ear.

"Just thinking about how devastatingly sexy you would look in a pair of wide-rimmed glasses," you teased, standing on your toes to place a kiss on his neck. You lingered just long enough to sink your teeth into his sensitive skin.

You pulled back for a moment, taking in his expression. His cheeks were red, his mouth parted just a tad. Fred Weasley....blushing? That was a sight you had never seen before.

This only encouraged you to continue the teasing. He had done the same to you, so why not return the favor?

"Does someone like dirty talk?" you asked, your voice velvety and seductive. You slipped your hand down to his neck, gripping his throat lightly. "Naughty boy."

You could feel Fred gulp, your hand still wrapped around his throat. You had him right where you wanted him.

"Actually, I think I can walk myself to class this morning," you said. You released your hand from its place on his neck, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips before grabbing the flowers from the desk where you had put them earlier. He was still standing there in shock as you headed for the door.

"Thanks for the flowers, Freddie," you said sweetly, tossing him one last glance over your shoulder before departing.

Fred was frozen where he stood. The two of you had a teasing relationship, but most of the teasing came from his end. You would simply resist, making it even more entertaining for him. But now you were the aggressor. And he loved it.

He was accustomed to taking the lead in his relationships. Fred had always been relatively dominant, but things with you were different. It felt like a power struggle. It was exciting and unpredictable.

Fred finally snapped back to reality, feeling momentarily embarrassed as he stood alone in the empty classroom. You had managed to slip through his fingers this time, but he was determined to get you back.

----

It was Wednesday evening. The week had gone by in a similar fashion to all of the others. You spent your evenings in the library with your friends, staying on top of the numerous assignments you had for the week. Your grades were something that really mattered to you, and you were determined to be at the top of your class.

It was your turn to make prefect rounds on Wednesday nights. It was only for an hour from 9-10pm, and you enjoyed the relatively peaceful time that you spent walking around the castle. Students were rarely misbehaving at this time, but you would have to write someone up every once in a while. 

Most of the hour had passed by without incident until you heard a bang come from down the hallway. It made you jump, but soon enough you were walking in the direction of the noise.

"Hey, who's there?" you called down the dim hallway, your feet carrying a quick pace as you went to investigate. 

You reached the set of stairs that led up to the astronomy tower. At the bottom of the stairs was a  neatly folded piece of paper. You picked it up, curious as to what it could be.

The stars are gorgeous tonight, but not as gorgeous as you.

You blushed as you read the note. You recognized the handwriting as Fred's instantly. You had tutored him for a year, so you had become familiar with his messy print. 

You began to ascend the stairs, knowing that Fred would be in the tower waiting for you. He loved surprising you, and he was unexpectedly thoughtful. You loved that about him.

You finally reached the top. Fred was stood by the edge of the tower, leaning against the stone ledge to look out at the sky. You stood there for a moment, watching him without his knowledge.

He looked peaceful. The moonlight lit his fiery hair with silver streaks. You noticed that his tie was missing, likely discarded once classes were over. The top few buttons of his shirt were undone, showing more of his collarbone than usual. 

Seeing him like this was enough to make your whole body tingle. You wished you didn't react this way, but you couldn't help it. He was gorgeous. 

You cleared your throat, signaling to him that he wasn't alone. He turned to look at you, his gaze gentle. He motioned for you to join him. 

You approached him, settling in next to him as you placed your hands on the tall ledge. You looked out at the sky, taking in the view from the tower. He was right, the stars were gorgeous. 

You both stood in silence for a few minutes, but it was comfortable. Neither of you felt the need to disrupt the moment. You were enjoying the view and being in each other's presence.

You saw Fred angle his body toward you out of the corner of your eye. 

"How's my favorite prefect this evening?" he asked, a cheeky grin crossing his face. 

You turned to him, leaning your hip against the ledge. "I don't know, seems like I need to write up a certain student for trespassing in the astronomy tower after hours."

You returned his grin, knowing how much he enjoyed your banter. He stepped closer to you, running a finger under your chin.

"Is there anything I can do to convince her not to?" he asked, using his finger to angle your chin upward so you had to look into his eyes.

"We'll see," you teased, narrowing your eyes at him. 

Fred let out a light chuckle, and his other hand wrapped around your waist and landed on the small of your back. He pulled you in, kissing you on the lips.

Your hands rested on his chest, eventually pulling at his collar as you continued kissing. It was slow and gentle, and he wasn't rushing you to go any further.

You finally pulled apart, looking at each other in the moonlight. Even with the limited light, you could make out his slightly rosy cheeks and pink lips. You brought your thumb up to trace his bottom lip, giggling at him.

"Has anyone told you how pretty you are?" you asked, admiring him openly.

Fred's cheeks darkened, making you giggle even more. 

"What, do you not like when I hit on you?" you teased, pulling your hand from his face to place it on his shoulder. 

Fred's response was to pull you in for another kiss. Sweet and slow, much like the ones you had shared moments before. 

"You're quite cheeky, aren't you?" he finally said, resting his chin on the top of your head. He still had his arms wrapped around you, and you leaned into his chest.

"I'm not as bad as I used to be," you admitted. "My mum couldn't stand my mouth when she still lived with us. She said that my thoughts came right out of my mouth instead of going to my brain."

"I think your mouth is smashing," Fred replied. He took a moment to think about what he had said, then pushed you back by your shoulders to look at you as he realized the innuendo.

"Not what I meant," he said, letting out an awkward chuckle. You giggled at his embarrassment.

"I know, Fred," you said, grinning at him. You pulled out of the semi-embrace, turning back to look out at the sky.

You felt him lingering next to you, seeming to hesitate on what to do next. He decided to turn to the stars as well.

"Are you close with your mum?" he asked, sounding shy.

"No," you huffed out almost too quickly. "She left my dad and I when I was ten. Something about  the 'wizarding life' not suiting her. I found out later that she was cheating on my dad and moved to America with her Muggle boyfriend. I haven't seen her since."

Fred took a moment to absorb the information, considering how to proceed since he knew the topic was likely sensitive. 

"Are you close with your dad then?" he followed up.

"Very," you answered. "He went to Hogwarts and was a Ravenclaw too. He works in a potions lab, he grows all of their ingredients. He was hoping that I would like Herbology, but it's not really my thing."

"Does it get boring with just the two of you?" he asked, seeming genuinely curious.

"Not really," you replied, turning your head to look at him. "I used to wish that I had siblings, but it would just make our situation harder. My dad has had to raise me mostly by himself, having another child would have had him too knackered to balance work with taking care of us."

Fred looked at you, admiring your openness. You had never talked like this before. Your conversations had always been rather surface-level, but this was deeper. It felt good to connect with him.

"I bet your house is pretty quiet," he said. "My house feels like a madhouse sometimes. My brothers are always wrestling and Ginny is usually complaining about something."

"Do you like it though? Having so many siblings?" you asked.

"I suppose it's alright. I don't know any different. And my parents are so in love that it's sickening," Fred jokingly scrunched his face in disgust.

You giggled. "It's cute that they're still keen on each other," you said, nudging his shoulder with your own.

"I guess," he shrugged. "They're always up my arse about my marks and what I'm going to do after Hogwarts. George too. They make it sound like we're daft. My mum expects all of us to be just like Percy. Perfect Percy."

"I don't think you're daft," you said, linking your arm around his and leaning your head against his shoulder. 

"Thanks," Fred replied, adjusting so his arm wrapped around you instead. "Seems like the whole school thinks I am."

"Fred, that's ridiculous. You're allowed to feel that way, but it's simply not true," you argued. It hurt to hear that he felt like he wasn't smart enough. You knew that Fred wasn't incredibly focused on his studies, but that didn't mean that he wasn't intelligent.

"People like me because of my pranks. I'm good for a laugh, but that seems to be about it," he said. He sounded so small and defeated.

You turned your head just enough so you could look him in the eye. He was averting your gaze, opting to look at the sky instead.

"Look at me, Freddie," you said, your voice firm but kind. He finally met your eyes reluctantly.

"You are incredibly clever. Coming up with your own pranks takes detailed planning, and I can't imagine that it's easy. Your friends adore you. First years are chuffed when you even look their way," you told him, meaning every word. "But you're also genuine. And you're kind, and patient, and considerate. You're so much more than I knew you were, and I'm gutted that it took this long for me to get to know you."

Fred held your gaze as you rambled on. You saw that familiar look in his eye, the softness that was mixed with something deeper. Adoration, maybe? You weren't quite sure.

He was once again left without words, simply staring at you once you were finished talking. You felt embarrassed for a moment, afraid that you revealed too much of how you felt. Your stomach felt like it was sinking to the floor as he just stood there.

Fred finally moved, grabbing both of your hands in his. He maintained eye contact.

"Birdie, you're...Merlin, I don't know how to put it into words," he said, shaking his head at himself. 

"Then don't," you said softly.

He pulled your hands so your arms wrapped around him, drawing you in to his chest. He kissed you, a delicate kiss at first. He bit at your bottom lip, causing a soft moan to escape your lips. 

That was all he needed to lift you up, earning a giggle of surprise from you. You wrapped your legs around him, and he supported you by holding your bottom. He kept kissing you, pressing your back against the closest wall.

The cold stone caused goosebumps to erupt across your back, but in this moment, you didn't mind. Fred's kisses became more fervent, your teeth almost clashing as you both fought for the upper hand. 

He had you pinned against the wall for at least five minutes. You pushed at his shoulders, causing him to pull out of the kiss. He looked at you, his eyebrows bent in confusion.

"Put me down, please," you requested, a nonchalance in your voice. Fred complied, carefully adjusting you so your feet finally touched the ground.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, spinning around so you forced him up against the wall. Still gripping his collar, you pulled him down into another kiss. Your hands found his belt, and you paused.

"Is this alright?" you asked.

"Please," he answered, sounding breathless. A smug grin crept across your face. You were proud of the effect you were having on him. 

You resumed your kissing, working on his belt. Your kisses migrated down to his jaw, nipping at his jawline. You had always loved his jawline. You had heard other girls joke that it was sharp enough to cut something.

You finally got his belt free, tossing it to the side with a clank. Your hands ran up his chest, nails scratching along the material of his shirt. Fred let out a throaty sound, something between a groan and a whine. 

You kissed down to his neck, nipping at his ear.

"Fuck, birdie," he whispered in response. 

You started fiddling with the button of his trousers, struggling for a moment before getting it open. You pulled away from him, once again checking for his approval.

"Tell me when to stop," you said, echoing the very words he had said to you a few nights ago.

"Please don't," he replied, hands gripping at your hips desperately. 

"I've never heard so many 'please's come from you," you teased, biting at his neck again.

"Anything for you, darling," he said, his voice sultry. That was enough to send a tingle down your spine. 

You tugged at his trousers, pulling them down. You kept kissing his neck, finding a spot along his collarbone to leave a love bite. It was revenge for the marks he had left on you. 

Your hands danced down to his hips, unbuttoning his shirt from bottom to top. You looked at him for a moment, admiring your work. Fred was breathing hard, his pupils blown wide with arousal. He looked....hungry.

You dropped to your knees, earning a quiet "fuck" from Fred. You felt momentarily nervous, insecure about your "talents". You and Adrian had hooked up many times, and you were no stranger to blowjobs. But Adrian was your first and your only. This was someone new.

You snapped yourself out of it, dragging your nails along the waistband of Fred's boxers. There was already a prominent bulge from your efforts, and you silently commended yourself. 

You placed a kiss along his abs over the fabric of his undershirt. You worked your way down, kissing until you were at his waistband once again. You peered up at him, taking in his flushed cheeks and desperate expression. And what did you do? You grinned up at him and winked.

Fred groaned, covering his face with his hand. You laughed at him, running your nails along his thighs. You knew that this teasing was making him miserable. You had your fun, now it was time to put him out of his misery.

You grabbed for his waistband, pulling down his boxers in one smooth motion. You gulped as you took in the sight before you. You had assumed that Fred would be big; he was a tall person, after all. You had also heard rumblings from girls who had hooked up with Fred. But this...definitely more than you were expecting. 

You took a breath, gripping him with one hand and supporting yourself against his thigh with the other. You began to pump him, slowly working him up to a faster pace. 

After a minute, you had Fred groaning and gripping at your hair. You dared to tease him once more, darting your tongue out to tease his tip. 

"Fuck," he muttered, nails digging into your scalp.

Your tongue danced in circles around his tip, eventually making stripes down to his base. You still hadn't put him into your mouth, and you knew this was killing him.

"Are you going to say please?" you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

"Birdie, you've got to be....oh fuck," he said breathily. You had continued teasing him with your tongue, interrupting his response.

"Please," he begged, sounding pathetic. That was what you had been waiting for. 

You finally took him into your mouth. You started with the tip at first, using one hand to work the rest of him while the other played with his balls. You worked your way down slowly, taking in more of him inch by inch.

Fred's groans were turning into whimpers, and if your mouth wasn't previously engaged, you would definitely be smirking. His nails continued to dig at your scalp, mussing your tidy hair. 

You worked your way down to his base at last, fighting against your instinct to gag. You picked up your pace, causing various profanities to fall from Fred's mouth.

"Fuck, I'm going to...you should stop," he breathed out, pulling hard at your hair. 

You peered up at him, determination in your eyes. There was no backing down now. He met your gaze, understanding what your intentions were. 

Fred finally released, a groan coming out of his mouth that he tried to suppress by biting his lip. You worked him down slowly, pulling him out of your mouth. You looked right into his eyes as you swallowed. 

His jaw dropped just slightly, his mouth just barely agape as he took in the sight before him. You were doing your own admiring, enjoying your view from your place on your knees. His chest was heaving, cheeks red. You could tell he had a lean build underneath his undershirt, and you were looking forward to taking that shirt off of him. Another time.

You helped him find his boxers and trousers, dressing himself as you got up from your knees. You brushed them off, feeling the indents from the stone floor in your knees. Worth it.

Fred had just finished slipping his belt through the loops of his trousers when you grabbed at his wrists. You puckered your lips at him playfully. He chuckled, leaning down to kiss your lips.

"Do you still think that my mouth is smashing?" you teased, grabbing at his sides to pull yourself into him. 

"Absolutely smashing, birdie," he replied, chuckling again before giving you another kiss. 

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