#imagine if i had a fred

[dondusthefirstconsul]

Geta when they killed Acacius so now the people of Rome want them dead Caracalla is having one of his episodes and Dondus is screaming

[marciaillust]

more chara design

[joannerowling]

I’m curious - why do you think Fred dying was necessary? I’m not disagreeing but I was devastated so I’m curious what your thoughts are! (Especially after your Percy meta 🤌🏻)

Many reasons! A Weasley always had to die in the last book because, as JKR put it, it wouldn't have been realistic for all of them to survive. They were too involved.

With regards to Percy specifically, well… Percy's return always had to come at a price, to really drive home how poor his decisions were. Percy's arc teaches the reader a lesson about family, and being careful about the sort of wedges you're prepared to drive between them and you, and why, because if you ever change your mind it might be too late, especially in uncertain times. Think about Covid, or the Israel-Palestine war, those are the sort of political situations which can create huge tensions and sometimes tear families completely, and needlessly, apart.

The point isn't really that Percy was in the wrong when he stood with Fudge in OotP, his real offense was his refusal to come back after that. He had ample opportunity to do so – he could have admitted his mistake, apologised, and the family would have forgiven him in time. Instead he wallowed in his pride and/or shame. Then the war truly started in DH and even if he'd have wanted to make contact it became either too dangerous or impossible (as he wouldn't have known where they were hiding). And then right as he finds them back again during the finale battle, right as he's making tentative connections (a joke!) with the member of the family he had the toughest time communicating with, giving us some hope for reconciliation and growth… Nope, it's too late.

It ALWAYS had to be one of the twins because they were the ones Percy had the most volatile conflict with. It could have been Arthur, but Arthur had already a close call in OotP and Percy's emotions over that had already been shown so it would have felt repetitive. Plus, as discussed in the previous post, Percy takes his "big brother" status seriously, so it HAD to be a younger sibling he failed to protect and ever fix his mistakes with.

What makes it worse (and therefore better! :D) is Percy COULD have been close with Fred and George: they are the closest in age after all. But the fact they were twins meant they were always their own little team within the siblings + their personalities didn't match with Percy's + they were all competing for Molly and Arthur's attention. (In fact i think there's a good chance that a young Percy at some point wished he only had one little brother instead of the twins, so it could be Bill & Charlie, Ron & Ginny, and him and whoever would be instead of the twins. Obviously, once one of the twins gets actually killed, it wouldn't have been a great memory. I know, i'm extrapolating a lot here, but some people in this fandom think Evan Rosier was fucking Luna Lovegood's mum so just indulge me lol)

ALSO (i'm stopping after that promise), does Percy's behaviour remind you of anyone? Ron is very Percy-like in DH. But unlike Percy, Ron needed to have a bit of Voldemort's evil soul hanging around his neck to make that kind of choice + he regretted it immediately and tried to come back + crucially he was ready to admit his mistake and work on his flaws. He sought the advice of Bill when Percy isolated himself. That's why Ron doesn't get punished, and also probably why Ron's a main character and hero.

Tl;dr: Fred's death is the inevitable conclusion of the tragedy that is Percy's arc about being too proud to solve minor conflicts with his family until it was too late.

[doom-dreaming]

High Flakes Combat

“Blue Lead,” Linda’s whisper cuts across TEAMCOM, crisp and several degrees colder than the icy landscape. “Hostiles approaching your position.”

Fred, tucked behind the trunk of a towering pine tree, exhales a slow, measured breath. Waiting. Listening. Without his motion tracker, only the crunch of footsteps in the snow—and Linda—could tell him when their opponents were closing in.

There. Fifteen meters out. He motions to John, positioned behind an adjacent tree. On my signal.

…ten meters…

Cover me. Go high.

…five meters…

John nods. Fred tightens his grip on his weapon.

Now.

As one, they pivot, breaching cover. Fred drops to a knee, attacking swiftly, before their adversary has a chance to retaliate.

The snowball hits Ash directly in the center of his chestplate. Active camouflage flickers briefly, then recalibrates, as the young Spartan crashes dramatically to his knees before sprawling backward, motionless.

Fred doesn’t let the theatrics distract him. The other two had to be nearby and the round wasn’t over until— A snowball whizzes past his head, followed by a sharp curse—out loud, close. He catches a shimmer of white on white as Olivia leaps to find cover and “reload,” but John is faster.

The snowball hits her thigh before she can complete her maneuver and she slides to a dejected halt in a snowbank. “Dammit! Mark!” she calls out. ��You’re on your own!”

Fred doesn’t hear a verbal response. He knows he won’t, Mark’s too good to give away his position— Thwap. Fred’s vision goes fuzzy and white as Mark’s snowball connects with his visor, splattering on impact. Fred groans and flashes a red status light across his team’s HUDs. He’d be out until the next round.

“He’s on the move!” Linda barks over the comms.

Fred folds himself cross-legged into the snow and wipes his visor clean just in time to see Kelly bounding over a nearby ridge, clutching a snowball in each fist.

“I’ve got him!” She goes streaking across the snow toward a barely-visible figure—also sprinting.

Mark wouldn’t be able to outrun Kelly—a fact Fred knew the S-III was well aware of—but he was certainly trying his best.

Kelly nails Mark with both snowballs, one in the shoulder, the other in the back. He stumbles just enough that Kelly’s momentum sends her into him at full force. The clack of their colliding armor echoes like a shot as both Spartans go tumbling to the ground, sending up a minor flurry in their wake.

“Aaaaaaaand match!” Roland’s voice rings out over the simulation deck, followed by a buzzer. “Blue Team takes the win!”

“Again,” Olivia grumbles, pushing to her feet and dusting snow off her armor.

“It’s three against four,” Ash reminds her, still lying on his back a few feet from Fred.

Olivia crunches her way over and offers him a hand. “Can we make Kelly sit out the next round?”

“If you’re not having fun, leave,” John quips.

“Or maybe you should switch Kelly to our team and see how it feels,” Livi bites back, helping Ash haul himself to his feet.

“Fighting over me?” Kelly rejoins the group with Mark close behind. “I’m flattered.”

Fred chuckles. It was good to see Olivia trading barbs with John. The Gammas had warmed up to him quickly—and he to them—and it wasn’t hard to understand why. Fred was sure the S-IIIs had given him some new streaks of gray hair, but at the same time, they made him feel younger. He hoped they were having the same effect on John.

“So…” drawls a familiar voice, raised just loud enough to carry, “this is the reason my fireteams can't train today? A snowball fight.”

Every Spartan in the simulated snowscape whips toward the entrance. Commander Palmer stands at the far edge of the scene, arms crossed. She looks odd and out of place, a lone figure in a techsuit against the stark white surroundings, but no less intense than usual.

“Thought we’d try something different from the typical drills, ma’am,” Fred coughs. He’s not sure why he feels guilty; they’d requested the time and blocked out the schedule and followed protocol…even if they hadn’t said precisely what they’d be doing…

Before anyone else has a chance to speak, a snowball goes sailing over Fred’s shoulder, on a collision course for Palmer. She’s too far away to hit, but the aim is dead-accurate and it lands with a wet plap several yards directly in front of her.

Even at this distance, Fred sees her eyes narrow. The vague guilt solidifying in his gut crystallizes into ice. He knows who threw that and he’s already, reflexively, preparing for the necessary damage control—and for Linda, no less. Kelly he was used to, but Linda?

Palmer shifts her weight and fixes the seven of them with a hard stare that lasts long past the point of being uncomfortable. “Don’t go anywhere,” she eventually orders, leveling a finger in their direction. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Without leaving any opportunity for rebuttal, she turns on her heel and swiftly disappears from the deck.

Immediately, Linda’s status light starts blinking rapid-fire green across Blue Team’s HUDs. Kelly follows suit.

“Really?” Fred grumps over TEAMCOM.

“Can you blame her if it worked?” Kelly retorts.

“Yes! You’re making an assumption and setting a bad example.” He switches to his helmet’s speakers. “Gammas, don’t throw things at your commanding officers.”

“Unless you’re sleeping with them,” Kelly adds, with enough tact to keep the comment on Blue Team’s private channel.

Another green light from Linda.

Fred willfully ignores both of them.

“...we’re not in trouble, are we?” Ash removes his helmet and shakes out his hair. “To be honest…I don’t know what just happened.”

Kelly seats herself on a tree stump, legs akimbo, smugness oozing from every seam of her armor. “Palmer’s getting suited up to come play with us.”

Ash seems unconvinced but Mark shrugs. “She’ll balance the numbers. We might even start winning.”

Only Blue Team can see—and appreciate—the red light John flashes in silent response.

**********

As threatened, Palmer returns exactly ten minutes later, fully armored aside from the helmet tucked into the crook of her arm. “Okay, here’s the official story.” She strides up to the group. “We’re running an unorthodox but fully sanctioned training exercise all day.”

“I’ve cleared the schedule and put out an open invitation,” Roland chimes in. “As requested.”

Palmer nods her approval. “Figured I’d let you have your fun on the condition that the rest of us could get in on it too.” She raises an eyebrow. “Sound fair?”

“Fair enough,” Fred answers, echoing the array of green lights on his HUD. “Alright. Ground rules—we’re running blind for this, Commander. No motion trackers.”

She looks pleased. “I like a challenge.”

“If you get hit, you’re out for the round,” he continues. “Once you’re out, you can’t help anyone still standing. Round ends when a whole team goes down.” Fred nods toward the ceiling. “Roland’s keeping score.”

“Huh,” Palmer hums. “So you knew about this, too, Roland?”

“I…was informed the exercise would require a scorekeeper instead of a handler,” the AI answers, somehow managing to achieve the verbal equivalent of tip-toeing. “And I volunteered a mere fraction of my copious attention to the task.”

Palmer just rolls her eyes.

Ash clears his throat and steps forward. “If you wouldn’t mind, ma’am, we’d greatly appreciate it if you joined our team.”

“They’ve been wiping the floor with us,” Olivia adds, somewhat ruefully.

Palmer looks back and forth between Blue Team and the Gammas with a hint of a smirk. “Well.” She slips her helmet on. “Allow me to level the playing field.”

**********

And indeed, the tide began to turn. Quickly. It wasn’t that the Gammas couldn’t hold their own, but Palmer was a different flavor of ruthless and even numbers did make a difference.

Kelly, as Blue Team’s sole survivor, was in the midst of a valiant stand, but she was up against Palmer and Olivia and they were going in for the kill. Up to this point, Kelly had been relying on her speed to evade them, but Fred doubted that would be able to carry her any further.

Palmer and Livi split around the back of the snowbank Kelly had hidden behind, falling into synchronized step with each other, timing their paces perfectly. Palmer’s boots fall heavier and louder, covering Olivia’s near-silent glide around the other side.

The strategy is obvious, at least from Fred’s position of passive observation—Palmer would draw Kelly’s attention, Olivia would come up on her flank and take her out. And it would work, too…on anyone less observant than Kelly. Fred has a feeling she’ll see right through it. But one of them was going to hit her either way, so it didn’t really matter as far as the outcome was concerned.

Surprisingly, a third option presents itself. Fred realizes after a few seconds that he’s been holding his breath, expecting Kelly to explode out of the snow and make a run for it, but…she doesn’t.

Palmer reaches the other side of the snowdrift and slows, confusion evident in her body language. She paces around the area, making sure not to stay still for too long, obviously reluctant to let her guard down completely. Fred can see the hazy mirage of Olivia’s SPI suit still moving in with careful deliberation.

There was no way Kelly could have moved. She hadn’t had enough time. More importantly, she would’ve been spotted if she’d tried to flee, so why couldn’t—

Palmer disappears. One second, she’s standing on the other side of the snowbank, visible from the waist up, and the next second she’s gone. Fred can’t see much of anything, but there are sounds of a scuffle and the blur of camouflaged armor as Livi sweeps in to assist with whatever the hell had just happened.

Barely a breath later, Roland announces the end of the match. “And Gammas-Plus-Palmer emerge victorious! …or should I say Olivia, specifically, seeing as she is the last Spartan standing. You know, you really oughta come up with a better name for your team—”

There’s a burst of indignant exclamations and flustered cursing from Palmer. She reappears only to rip her helmet off and kick some snow back in the direction from which she’d escaped.

Olivia removes her own helmet; Fred is surprised to see her laughing. “She got you good!” There’s a giddiness in her voice that Fred’s never heard before, but she seems to remember who she's talking to a moment later. “...ma’am.”

Kelly pops up beyond the ridge. She remains helmeted but Fred knows there’s a shit-eating grin on her face just from her posture alone.

“What happened?” He shouts the question out loud.

“She buried herself in the fucking snow and pulled my legs out from under me,” Palmer growls as she trudges over.

“And then I hit Kelly point-blank in the face!”

Olivia’s gleeful comment is backed by Kelly’s laughter over TEAMCOM. “Worth it.”

“Hey!” A different voice cuts into the conversation, once again pulling everyone’s attention toward the entrance. “Heard there was some kinda free-for-all goin’ on in here?” Gabriel Thorne stands flanked by the rest of Fireteam Majestic, all in full Mjolnir. “Got room for another team?”

Palmer waves them in. “Come on up, Majestic. We’ll get you briefed on the rules.” She sighs and fits her helmet back on. “Hope you’re ready to get your asses kicked.”

**********

An hour later, after Majestic had carved out a few victories of their own, Crimson shows up. Rules are recounted, home bases are realigned, play resumes. Within another two hours, there are four more Spartan fireteams on the field. Alliances are formed, both openly and secretly. Several hours are devoted to building snow forts. Play evolves. Forts are defended and captured, sabotaged and reinforced.

And then Lasky arrives.

“Captain on deck!” Roland bellows.

The silence that blankets the simulation deck is instantaneous and absolute. Nobody moves. If the snowballs already in flight could have frozen in midair, they probably would’ve. Instead, they land in a chorus of muffled thwumps.

Lasky stands there for a few seconds, small and unimposing by the distant doors, sporting his trademark expression of beleaguered amusement—presumably at being called out. “Don’t stop on my account,” he eventually says. “I just wanted to watch. …unless there’s a team looking for a liability,” he jokes with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Everyone on the field exchanges glances and shrugs. A sea of status lights blink across Fred’s HUD—most amber, some green. Finally, someone from Crimson waves Lasky over. “We’ll take you, Captain!”

He seems genuinely surprised by the invitation, but begins the trek across the snow. “Try not to kill me, alright?”

That draws laughs from most of the Spartans, but it’s John who actually banters back. “No promises, sir.”

[dittanyinbloom]

Fate Aligned

This is a bit strange for me to post here, but it is a second part to this George Weasley x fem!reader fic I made on an old account. Sebastian Sallow heavily influenced me with ideas for a part two. If you want to know why George and reader aren’t going to the Yule Ball with everyone else, read that one first! It’s cute! I promise!

George Weasley x fem! reader. Rated T for a brief make-out session and a few curse words here and there.

summary: You and George manage to lose a total of eighty house points on the night of the Yule Ball which you were not planning on attending because George gave all his money for dress robes to Fred so that at least one of them could go.

(also, the lockets mentioned in this are a little Easter egg for a SebastianxMCxOminis OT3 fic I may or may not be working on called Lover’s Lockets. It’ll probably come out in early summer, but the inspiration to write this first hit me like the Hogwarts Express)

.🍬✨🍬

The younger students that were not able to attend the ball had long since traveled home for the holidays. With everyone else draped in their best and headed for the Great Hall, you and George had the castle to yourselves. The possibilities were endless. Should you sneak into the faculty tower and see what the professors’ rooms looked like? Perhaps you would break into the Headmaster’s office and search for priceless Hogwarts artifacts. Maybe the librarian left the key for the Restricted Section at her desk while she was whisked away to the ball.

Of all the places they could go, George had chosen not only the most boring, most dangerous, but also the most unromantic of them all. Filch’s office was just off the Entrance Hall, which happened to also lead to the Great Hall. Only a couple sets of doors separated the two from being caught.

“Must this be done tonight?” You whispered from behind a giant Christmas tree that decorated the center of the Entrance Hall in front of the doors that lead outside. The Grey Lady was weeping at a statue perched on the upper tier, just a few feet from the door to the Reception Hall where you would find Filch’s office as well as a few stragglers taking a breather outside the Ball.

“They’re candies. We need to get them back and sell them before they go bad. This might be our only opportunity. When else is he going to be this distracted? He bought Ms. Norris a new collar. They’ll both be at the ball.”

“And we’ll both be in detention if your plan goes wrong, which they often do.”

“No, those are always Fred’s plans. Mine work like a charm,” and as he said the last words, he waved his wand and disappeared. The disillusionment charm was something you were becoming to be quite familiar with as of recently. Two boisterous redheads may or may not be the cause of it. You followed in suit, tugging your school robe over your hair and using the charm effortlessly. George smiles at how easily you complied before throwing on his own hood to cover his fiery hair and whispering, his voice low and thick as honey, “Good thinking.”

As soon as the Grey Lady wandered off, the two of you crept up the stairs and peeked through the giant set of wooden doors. The Reception Hall was startlingly empty. The faint sounds of orchestral music looked from beyond the Great Hall’s doors. The display of House Points seemed to have eyes on your back, judging you for your unapproved adventure. You tried not to dwell on the guilt, knowing Gryffindor’s house points would suffer greatly if you get caught.

“Look at that, not a soul in sight. Come on, then. Let’s not waste our luck.”

With the help of Alohomora, the two of you found yourselves in the tiny, dusty space Filch called his office. The walls were lined with cupboards. Knowing the twins had found the Maurader’s map in here their first year, you were sure more extravagant enchantments were stuck inside those drawers, collecting dust and begging to be used. Feeling safe now, you took off your charm and let George see your excitement. He matched your smile and immediately joined you at your side to start sifting through anything and everything.

“Ack!” You let out a squeak and jumped back from the second drawer.

George leaned over you and then laughed at the sight. “Dead rat? Probably lots of those. Ms. Norris does live here too, ya know.”

“Lovely.”

After a few more drawers, you found the familiar, warm brown briefcase the twins had been keeping their experimental treats in. “George, I’ve got them, now we can get the hell out of here.”

“Hold on, look at these!”

“George, really. We should take our winnings and go before someone-“ but the words die on your lips when George pulled the twisted chains of two lockers out of the drawer.

“Lumos,” he whispered to better show off the intricate floral pattern imprinted in the metal. “Think we should have a little reward for our venture, don’t you?”

“I agreed to help you find your treats, but stealing things that aren’t yours, Weasley-“

“Hush. You sound like a Ravenclaw. Always doing things by the book. Pft. Live a little, love.”

Completely derailed and flustered by his nickname for you, you didn’t have the mind to protest him further. Though looking back, you really wish you had. He untangled the lockets and bestowed one upon himself before inching closer to you.

“Be careful!” You whisper yelled. “What if it’s enchanted? Filch must have confiscated them for a reason!”

“Like he stole our taffies for no good reason?”

“He had reason. First years with ten-ton tongues were enough to justify them being taken.”

George flicked open the locket to study it. “Just a compass. Nothing evil about it.”

“Hmph. Well. Fine. I guess. . It would be nice to have a little souvenir.”

“See?“ He gently put the chain around your neck and took a step back, finally letting you breathe only to steal the air right back out of your lungs with his words, “So beautiful.”

The tiny office now felt unbearable. Earlier, you had confessed your feelings for him in not so many words. Whether or not he reciprocated, you weren’t sure. George hadn’t really had much time to respond or even take in your confession before your friends had come back. Since then, you had easily fallen into your usual pattern of playful pranking and chatter. It was easy to forget about your confession until his alluring compliment. The word had fallen off his lips almost breathlessly, a sultry whisper that had your mind alight and playing the moment over in your head.

Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful…

It was all you could think about. Your heart ticked nervously and your skin went warm. Did he really think you were beautiful, or was this just the typical Weasley charm the boys often used on girls, and even professors to get people to do things they wouldn’t normally do. You wouldn’t call the twins manipulative, they just... Okay, they could be quite manipulative, but never with malicious intent. Flirting as a way of buttering people up wasn’t exactly a bad thing. You surely didn’t complain when they used their charm on you.

But that was before you had confessed your feelings to George. If Fred had been the one to say it, the word would have rolled off your back like water without a second thought. George, however, was now in the know of the feelings you had been harboring. You almost felt betrayed in a way that he would whisper a sweet nothing like that so carelessly after knowing where your heart lies. Did he just not care? Had he forgotten in the moment? Or was it somehow possible that he returned your feelings and this flirting was now more meaningful than his usual antics?

“We should go,” you said rather stiffly, immediately hating how rude it came off. In your rush out of the office, you forgot how careful you two had to be going in and found yourself bursting into the Reception Hall without even trying to be quiet. “We should get this to safe keeping and then we can do something that’s actually fun.”

“And what might you have in mind?” Professor McGonagall called out from across the hall. She was standing with her husband who had traveled to the castle for the night to accompany her to the ball. His eyes were soft and kind, but he also had an all-knowing smile that was thrown your way. He patted Minerva on top of her hand that he had been holding and then excused himself back to the festivities, letting his wife deal with her troublesome students.

“I-uh.” The briefcase of candies in your hands suddenly felt hot and heavy.

George’s hand landed on your shoulders as he dipped down to whisper right by your ear. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Piss off-,” you uttered back, elbowing him in the stomach rather ungraciously.

“I will take that.” And with the wave of her wand, McGonagall had the case of candies in her hands. “I would send the two of you back to the common room, but it sounds as though I shouldn’t trust you to stay there until the Yule Ball is over.”

“Professor, we-“

“Ten points from each of you for rummaging around Mr. Filch’s office. And since I think it best I keep an eye on you for the rest of the evening... “ She pointed her wand at you with a curt wave. The fabric of your clothes began to wiggle and tickle your skin, swishing all around and changing color until you ended up in a long ivory gown with golden embroidery. George’s clothes were next to change into an ivory button down with a deep red vest decorated in gold buttons, the same gold as your dress. One final silent wave of her wand, this stroke alarmingly familiar… it was Expelliarmus. Both of your wands floated into her open palm.

That night, George had been wearing his only school robe that was still long enough after his recent growth spurt. He couldn’t afford to lose it, in the most literal sense since the price of new robes had gone up greatly over the holiday season and all of his money had gone toward Fred's dress robes for the ball. The loss of that set was detrimental, even in exchange for these fancy clothes. “But, our robes. .”

“If you should wish to have your school robes and wands back before classes, I suggest you find me after the ball. Now, don’t dawdle. In you go.”

Jokingly matching your professor’s air of elegance, George spoke in as proper of a tone he could muster, “If you insist, Professor, but I must have a word with my partner first.”

“Do not make me come looking for you, Mr. Weasley.”

As soon as McGonagall exited into the Great Hall, George’s serious face turned into a bright and mischievous grin, as if you hadn’t just been caught by your Head of House. He dipped into a regal bow and held out a hand to you

Voice still posh and dropping even lower, George kissed your hand and spoke, “It seems as though fate has aligned-“

“Why are you still talking like that?” You giggled.

“Because it’s fun. You must know what fun is, shall I remind you?” Then he was pulling you in close and twirling you in circles, humming along to the faint music coming from behind the grand doors.

“I think,” you managed out between laughs, “-this is exactly what McGonagall meant when she said not to dawdle.” With all you might, you dragged the boy to the doors where he planted his feet and refused to move another inch. “George, what are you doing now?”

“We can’t go in there, silly. I haven’t even asked you yet.”

Those pesky nerves were bubbling back. You tried to swallow them down. “You’re ridiculous. We’re here. McGonagall’s forced us into these clothes. You don’t have to ask at this point. We aren’t- it’s not like we’re going by choice, I mean-“

Ignoring your endearing mumbling, George gently took your chin to make your eyes meet his as he asked, “Will you do me the honors of being the only bloke you dance with at the Yule Ball?”

“As long as you promise to crash us into all the Slytherin couples with your atrocious leading.”

“That’s a given.” He held out his arm for you to hold onto before walking you into the Great Hall where you were very fashionably late.

Decorated from enchanted ceilings all the way down to sparkling floors, the Great Hall was completely transformed into a winter wonderland. The ceiling was cloudy with snowflakes trickling down, sadly designed to never fall. It was always astonishing how the magic encapsulated the exact look of the weather, but never the temperature. Perhaps the frigid cold of the snow would have been welcome tonight because the hall was surprisingly warm from all the bodies dancing about.

The four center tables had vanished in favor of a large dance floor. The platform professors sat at was being used as a stage for a live band that was currently playing a jovial waltz. The corners of the hall were filled with refreshment tables and smaller, more personal round tables for groups to have a break from the excitement.

You scanned the room for your friends but immediately regretted doing so when your eyes landed on Lee Jordan and Alicia Spinnet. It seemed you had witnessed a rather intimate moment of Lee kissing Alicia’s knuckles, and then the back of her hand, and then her inner wrist, and then. . You quickly looked away, clearing your throat.

“You’ve got to be joking,” George muttered to himself. He was patting down his vest and dress pants. Turning his pockets inside out, he was presented with piles of sand. “It seems McGonagall transfigured away the dungbombs and fireworks as well.”

“Oh no,” you replied sarcastically, “How ever will we survive?”

“I suppose we will have to dance to pass the time,” George played along as he dragged you to the center of the hall. Once there, he adjusted the hold on your hand to one where your fingers were interlocking. While many other dance partners were doing the same, it still felt strikingly intimate, even more so when his other hand landed on your hip to draw you in close. You lightly placed your free one on his shoulder, mimicking a very cordial and proper stance.

You weren’t able to maintain your posture long, because George whizzed across the dance floor at an alarming speed. Your hand had slipped from the feather of a touch in his shoulder down to his bicep where you clung on for dear life. His hand was meant to stay on your hip had snaked to the small of your back, making it much easier to swing you to and fro. How he had managed to step on other couples’ toes but not your own was a mystery.

Actually, it was probably deliberate considering two of George’s victims had been a Slytherin boy from your year and a boy from Beauxbatons that had both previously asked you to accompany them. The true mystery was how George managed to find out who exactly you had turned down so that he could target them.

Then you were being pulled to him to avoid your backside slamming to the Durmstrang Headmaster. There had been no warning, so you stubbled into George ungracefully with your cheek pressing into his chest as you let out a string of bubbly, nervous laughter. The hand on the small of your back had drifted all the way to your opposite hip now, holding you up, but also holding you so tightly against him that you had nowhere to go. Not that you could step back even if you wanted to with your faulty feet.

“S’cuse us,” George slyly offered to the terrifying man as he brisked you off in another direction.

“Sorry!” You had to call to the man over your shoulder since George had you gone in a flash.

George mumbled only for you to hear, “No need to apologize to him. You never actually ran into him. I know what I’m doing.”

“Maybe so, but we did give him a heart attack. And if you’re so aware of your actions, then why did you nearly just have me expelled?”

“All a ploy to get you closer to me.” His hand squeezed your hip for emphasis. “See? I can be quite romantic.”

“Falling into you is hardly romantic.”

“Oh, so you’re falling for me?”

“Did I not already make that obvious?” You had planned to play the words off as a joke, but George’s stiff reaction made it difficult. The tension only worsened when you found yourself at a standstill in the middle of the dance floor. George let go of your hip. You tried to escape your interlocked hands, but George tightened his grip, not letting you step too far away.

“We should talk about that,” George rarely sounded as serious as he did now, and the times when he had were never for good reason.

You winced at his tone. It was clear to you now that George didn’t feel the same. All the dancing and touching, it was all just in good fun. Nothing he ever did was meant to be analyzed. There was no reading between the lines. You were foolish to even try.

“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry to bring it up. I was only joking.” But the tightening feeling in your throat set in. It broke your heart to lie.

“You responded too quick to be joking, and besides, I-“

“Please, forget it. And forget what I said earlier,” Your voice diminished to nearly a whisper and you looked down at your feet lamely. “-I didn’t mean it, okay? Let’s just go back to having fun.”

George finally released your hand so that he could cup your face on both sides, forcing you to look back up at him. His brows softly pulled together. There was even a hint of a frown across his lips, a very foreign look on the prankster. “You’re an awful liar.”

“I’m not-“ you choked on your words, trying to hold back the sobs bubbling in your throat. “Just dance with me, George.”

“Ridiculous,” he huffed in disbelief. His hand wrapped around your upper arm to guide you toward the courtyard adjacent to the hall. You were still fighting the tears, refusing to let anyone see how much of a mess you truly were.

“You’re here! Brilliant!” Fred popped up just before the two of you made it out, placing both his hands on George’s shoulders to shake him in excitement. This in turn caused George to let you go, so you were thankful for Fred's intrusion. “Let me guess, you saw him run out to the courtyard too? Thinks he’s sneaky, that one. Well, he can’t escape all of us, eh?”

Fred and George did not disagree often, but this was one of those rare times George was putting his foot down. “This isn’t the time, mate.”

“This is the perfect time! What’s he gonna do to us with all these people as witnesses? Bagman doesn’t have the balls to pull something here.”

The name seemed to change George’s demeanor. He glanced at you to gauge your reaction. You knew of the antics Ludo Bagman pulled on the twins at the World Cup. This would be the perfect time to approach him, Fred wasn’t wrong. He just had absolute shite timing.

“Let’s go get his arse,” you proclaimed, jumping at the opportunity to avoid the awkward ‘I’m just not that into you’ conversation that George was no doubt planning to have with you out in that courtyard.

Fred’s grin spread across his face wildly. “Oh, how lucky Georgie is to have you. Angelina is livid I’m doing this. Knew I should have asked you as my date instead. And you clean up nicely too, I mean, look at you two.” And Fred did take a moment to give your dress a proper once over. His eyes landed on the locket around your neck and then flickered to the matching one his brother was sporting. “Now where in Merlin did you two nick those?”

Normally, George would jump at the opportunity to brag, but he was being oddly quiet. You spoke up in his place, “Filch’s office. McGonagall caught us stealing back your candies. She took those, but I don’t think she knew about these. . .”

Fred whistled lowly, clearly impressed, “You two have been busy. And I’ve just been here trying to dance like a babbling, bumbling, baboon!” His McGonagall impression was getting quite good.

You promptly followed Fred toward the courtyard. George seemed to drag his feet behind you. Eventually, you made it to the array of carriages the guests had arrived in that evening. A few groups of people were scattered about, chatting in the fresh air. Goosebumps instantly littered your arms and shoulders, but you welcomed the sensation. It was like jumping in a cold shower after that heated moment between you and George.

Fred wasted no time approaching his enemy with his arms raised in a faux welcoming stance. “I don’t believe my eyes! If it isn’t Ludo Bagman, old friend. How have you been?”

Bagman had been talking to an older, gruff-looking wizard you did not know. They both examined Fred quizzically, intrigued that a student would approach them in such a way. You moved to stand beside Fred, but George had stepped in first, crossing his arms and smiling at the two older wizards as if that alone was a threat. And it seemed to come across that way with how painfully obvious it was that his smile was forced.

George was quick to join in on Fred’s jovial greetings as well, “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you. When was our last chat? Remind me, Fred.”

“Oh, George, I do believe the last time we saw Ludo was during the Quidditch World Cup. You remember, don’t you?”

“Ah! Yes! I remember that night quite well. We won a pretty hefty bet, didn’t we, Fred?”

“That we did, George. That we did. Say, George, we still haven’t gotten the money from that, have we?”

“You would have been paid if you didn’t cheat,” Ludo sneered.

“We didn’t cheat,” George said through his teeth, immediately offended that he would even need to defend their honor against such a statement.

“You just want to keep the money for yourself,” Fred threw in offense.

Bagman’s eyes narrowed. “If the Weasley clan was known for their integrity, perhaps I would take you at your word. Now, quit wasting my time with this.” He looked to his companion and then nodded for the doors. They both turned to leave. Fred reached into his pocket for his wand, but you caught his wrist.

“Snape,” you whispered as the professor sauntered out into the courtyard.

“Bastard,” Fred murmured. You dropped his wrist, assuming he would put away his wand so as to not draw suspicion. Instead, Fred lifted his wrist and cast the disillusionment charm on himself. The motion was automatic at the mention of Snape. All you could hear was his hushed whisper. “What are you two doing? Let’s go before he questions us.”

George met your terrified eyes, looking rather pale himself. McGonagall had taken your wands. It seemed as though you were going to have to face Snape head-on.

“Fuck it,” George whispered as he grabbed you yet again, heaving you into the nearest carriage. You scrambled in with George following so close behind that he was nearly on top of you. The skirt of your dress had twisted and risen from all the movement. George planted himself on the bench next to you, mumbling apologies for nearly squashing you.

“How the hell are we-“

“Whisper!” George uttered. No wand, no ability to cast muffalo. The two of you would have to wait this out in silence. He pressed his ear to the side of the carriage and then looked very alarmed as he whispered, “Can hear him talking with Bagman and that other piece of muck.”

You tried smoothing down your skirt, but it was tangled horribly underneath you. Instead of offering to help or apologizing for the inconvenience, George merely followed the frantic movement of your hands. His eyes lingered over your exposed knee.

The sheer stupidity of your night was hitting you hard. Your jaw clenched in annoyance. If you hadn’t followed Fred to the courtyard, if you hadn’t made that stupid comment while dancing, if you hadn’t gone with George to Filch’s office, if you had never admitted you wanted to go to the bloody ball with him in the first place. .

“Lift yourself up,” he whispered, elbowing your arm.

You pouted in confusion, but gently lifted yourself up with both palms pressed into the bench of the carriage. George swiftly smoothed the fabric under you, meaning his hands had to skim over your backside and underneath you. Your breath caught in your throat at how nonchalant he acted. Once the underneath was straightened out, he pulled down the top to finally hid your exposed knee.

“Better?"

“You should warn a girl before grabbing her arse, Weasley.”

“I only did it so you’d stop fidgeting. Snape will know someone is in here if the cart is shaking.”

Any response you might have had died on your lips. Images of what sort of actions would make the carriage shake flashed across your mind. Your face felt uncomfortably hot, embarrassed that you couldn’t control the thoughts you were having about your best friend whilst sitting right next to him.

“Y/N,” his voice was soft and sincere, only making you feel more guilty for your own track mind. “I really should tell you-“

“Save it,” you begged. Merlin, you couldn’t hear the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech while you were shamefully thinking of making the carriage rock. You would die of embarrassment if he turned you down at this very moment.

“I don’t want to save it,” he seethed. “Don’t know where you got the bloody impression that I’m going to turn you down but damn it, I said I would have been the first to ask you if I had the money for robes. I didn’t mean that in a platonic way. Thought that much was obvious.”

He sounded cross with you, but his words were a confession of sorts. You studied his features. His hands were opening and closing. He was biting the inside of his cheeks. His eyes couldn’t meet yours for more than half a second before darting to the floor of the carriage.

“You like me,” you whispered in awe.

George didn’t seem to notice you shift closer, too lost in his own demise. “Look, I know I’m a fucking idiot. You said you wanted a night of fun and dancing, the ball gets dropped into our lap perfectly, and I go and ruin it by getting you stuck in a carriage. I’ve been told my whole life I don’t know when to quit. It didn’t mean shite to me until now that it’s affecting you. I got us into this. I should have told Fred to bugger off, but he and I just feed off each other’s insanity and-“

Your hands guided his face toward you so your lips could feverishly crash into him. From the shock of your hold, George’s hands wrapped around your wrists almost like he might pull you off. His entire body shivered from the feeling of your lips over his. It was heated and messy right from the start because his mouth had been open from talking.

George melted into you, matching your fever and even raising the stakes by taking your bottom lip between his teeth. He was being gentle, playful even, but it still had your arse lifting off the bench and rolling onto your knee so you could lean in further to his pull. His hands moved in quick now that the opportunity arose. They trailed down your back, smoothing the dress over your backside much slower this time, deliberately stroking to get their fill before reaching the underneath of your thighs where his fingers shamelessly pressed into your soft flesh to pull you closer until you were dragged onto his lap.

You broke away to gasp with your hands landing on his shoulders to steady yourself. His mouth went for your exposed collarbone, kissing from one shoulder to the next and swiping the chain of your new locket out of the way to thoroughly get every inch of skin. You thought he would go for your neck next, but instead, his lips traveled down toward the exposing, sweetheart neckline of your dress.

The door to the carriage swung open on your right. Professor Snape glared at the two of you. George had not removed his hands from your waist, so you just smiled sheepishly at your potions professor from George’s lap.

“What on earth do you think you two are doing? Out. Now.”

Rather reluctantly despite the ridicule, George helped you off of him so the two of you could crawl out of the carriage. As soon as your feet were on solid ground, Snape was firing off punishments.

“Thirty points from each of you. A week’s detention with Hagrid tending to the Forbidden Forest should be enough to make you regret this awful choice you’ve made. Back to the Great Hall, now.”

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the laughter threatening to burst out and double your detentions. Snape keenly watched the two of you drag your feet back to the ball. “Hands to yourself, Weasley,” he drones when George had tried to put his hand on the small of your back to guide you. Once the two of you were heading inside, Snape moved to the next carriage to end a different couple’s impromptu snog session.

“That was horrifying,” you grimaced at the thought of facing Snape in your next class.

“Was my kissing that bad?” George mused.

You playfully slapped his chest, “Sod off. You know what I meant. I’ll never be able to look Snape in the eye again.”

“I’m sure he’s witnessed worse. Hell, he probably is witnessing worse as we speak. The others were in their carriages far longer than we were.”

And yet George still managed to look like a complete mess. His lips were bright red, matching the flush he still wore on his cheeks. His hair was staticky and wild, not at all fitting for the ball you were walking back into. You waved him over, insisting, “Come ‘ere. You can’t go back there looking like this.”

A lazy smile plastered across George’s rosy cheeks. His eyes shamelessly studied your serious look of concentration as you tried to smooth down his wild locks. “Think people are gonna know what we did no matter how long you play with my hair.”

His fingers swiped over your collarbone, pressing harder on the red, sensitive spots that were definitely going to bruise later. A shiver ran down your back. You would have to remember to down a healing potion tonight that way you didn’t wake up and go about your day tomorrow, forgetting how scandalous you looked.

“Quit making them worse.” You smacked his hand away. “I can’t believe you did that while I’m stuck in this stupid dress with no robes to hide it. You’re devious.”

“You’re the one who started it,” George challenged.

“Must all your comebacks be childish?”

“You find them endearing,” he teased. “Merlin, can’t believe we could have been doing that ages ago. Do you think McGonagall would notice if we slipped back to the common room to make up for lost time?”

“I’m not taking any chances while she still has my wand. Besides, we hardly got to dance!” You took his hand and pulled him into the hall. “There are more Slytherins that need to be run into.”

[mariocki]

Cape Fear (1991)

"Let's get something straight here. I spent fourteen years in an eight by nine cell, surrounded by people who were less than human. My mission in that time was to become more than human. You see? Granddaddy used to handle snakes in church, Granny drank strychnine. I guess you could say I had a leg up, genetically speaking."

[quuma]

“SILENCE SPEAKS THE LOUDEST”

[not proof read - just forewarning you LOL goodluck,, there's likely many mispellings and inconsistencies in structure and past/present tense]

“silence speaks the loudest.”

a phrase that the boy had never fully understood. how could the lack of noise ever make comment? ever express itself? [he was never one to enjoy symbolism – preferring the objectiveness of facts. unfortunately, symbolism was something he needed to know for his final assessments. when one does not understand, they can do nothing but learn. alas, he had to try.]

sitting together in the common room one late night, air weighed down by the pressure of the upcoming O.W.L.s - silent, still; thinking. him, gaze fixed straight ahead, enraptured by the glowing fire in front of him, parchment and quill long abandoned and spilling in waves onto the cold floor below. [his hand aches, as does his head. unintelligible words bounce around, vaguely connecting to others before disappearing. he can’t remember anything he’s read in the past 2 hours.] you, tucked away in a corner, scribbled work illuminated only by a curtain of reflected moonlight creeping through the alcove windows and the lone candle melting above. drip, drip. the flame almost tickles the end of the wick – forewarning of the late hour. but neither of you make any sudden movement that suggests the intention of leaving anytime soon.

the room had once been full, bustling with frazzled teenagers and their shared confusion. shouts of questions juxtaposing aggressive hushes for silence. his friends had once been there too, now long retired to the comforting confines of their bedsheets. he cannot help but be jealous. [but a small part of him is guiltily glad to be away from them. don’t get him wrong, he loves his friends and fellow housemates, but sometimes he just needs space.]

seconds pass. minutes pass. wax drips to the floor one final time, announcing light’s departure. his eyelids struggle to remain open - fighting a losing battle - but his hands are still. his gaze is finally torn from the hypnotic fire, lethargically flicking around in a half-hearted attempt at waking himself of the enticing trance that orange light brings. they eventually reach you. you, now staring back at him.

the two of you had never been particularly close. it was no personal slight against one another, of course. you were friends of friends - skirting the edges of one another’s social groups, but never each other. there was simply no need to. no magical spark, no unexplainable invisible might bringing you together, no forced proximity in classes – he didn’t think he’d ever even accidently locked eyes with you before this.

silence. a heavy sigh escaped a pair of lips [he couldn’t tell if it had been yours or his, mind too fuzzy from hours of memorising equations, wand movements, and literary techniques.]

no words passed through that night air, but the message was still clear.

you looked away. so did he. movement ensued once more; quills flicking lethargically, eyes hesitantly blinking, the crackle of the fire filling the air.

silence, silence.

time had continued to run its course.

the night (or morning, as the faint light of dawn had replaced the moonlight) had ended with you suddenly rising from your chair, startling the boy from the half-asleep daze he hadn’t even realised he had slipped in to. upon realising that you were leaving, he too clumsily collected his things and stood. by the time he was done (which, admittedly, took an embarrassingly long amount of time. but who could blame him? he was attempting to function off less than an hour’s worth of half-conscious sleep) you were long gone. the sound of the common room door thumping gently behind you, paired with your fading tip-toed footsteps were all that reached him.

in the hours, days, months after that moment of eye contact, that moment of mutual understanding, nothing eventful followed. there were no sudden deep discussions, there were no shared inside jokes – but there was that passing moment. there was that presence. there was that tranquillity. there was that shared struggle of staying awake. there was the recognition of unspoken words; “i’m glad was not alone. i’m glad it was you. no expectations, no forced discussion, no preconceived notions. just two people, sitting, experiencing; living. normal, together. thank you.”

no words ever of acknowledgment of that moment ever cross either of your lips – no one admits the comfort of that silent scene. [but there are now locked gazes. there are now small smiles shared. there is now proximity. the social circles you two skirted are now closer, closing in on one another.]

but you both know. you know, he knows.

he thinks he understands now.

[hnnny]

Frederick and different hairstyles

[dallonwrites]

you guys are writing your novels i'm watching old 1970s episodes of scooby doo to understand how it shaped beau's autism

[kkorrall]

I feel like Avada Kedavra in Harry Potter would be much cooler if it was slightly blockable. Like having it be so OP heavily ruins dueling and negates truly powerful wizards b/c they can be easily killed (excl Harry and his mothers love, and who is the only guy to have this kind of love to block a killing curse and no one else has experienced this in the entirety of time ??)

I think it would be way cooler if like the spell needed direct skin contact. Then you’d have more epic snipe shots and make Wizards wearing cloaks more practical and logical - long drapery to hide a lot of your body. Plus the death eaters also wearing masks to protect themselves from the curses as they shoot them off literally everyday.

Plus when it finally connects / is used, it would be way more shocking that it actually works since every time the curse is used it’s a guaranteed kill

Esp with how easy and widespread it is used - why even use any other spell if it’s supposedly unblockable and 100% success rate

It just seems like lazy writing to me

But JKR couldn’t nerf time turners so she just destroyed them all but she didn’t do nothing about AK ??? Idk it would’ve been more entertaining on screen for movies and smth to read

Physical dodging would’ve Introduced a new element to dueling b/c that seems neglected for wizards (I don’t think it’s too demanding for Quidditch except for upper body strength and wizards Apparate a lot / summon things to them so I’m surprised a lot of them are super fit)

Imagine Wizard parkour!! Or other fun stuff with flying and gravity or YKNOW ?? OTHER SPORTS

Anyways long rant TL;DR Avada Kedavra should be reworked :(

[multishipper-baby]

Random future AU thought but Fred strikes me as the type of guy who doesn't like kids generally and finds them awful to deal with except for his own kid.

[ponyway]

[fairysteve]

can't decide a thing, decided to let you instead O:)

last couple weeks I decided to brainstorm what aus I might make for stranger things and now can't decide if I should post them or not, what do you think I should do? (there's 22 of them)

post them!! i want to read :>

[thegreatestjournalistofalltime]

Me, watching NBC Hannibal S1 the first time: (LOATHES Freddie and Chilton)

Me, at some point during S2: “Fuck you! These awful people are mine and I love them!”

[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

[georgeplease]

The One Where We Have to Fuck or Die

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Fred gives Reader his test vial of a new love potion for the store. They quickly realize if they don’t have sex then it’ll kill her.

Tags: Porn Logic, Aphrodisiac, fucking like rabbits, both reader and Fred are in their late 20s-early 30s

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

It started as a normal Saturday for (Y/n). She had slept in, made some breakfast, cleaned her flat, and had been getting ready to relax for the rest of the day. That was until a familiar owl had found its way to her window, dropping off a letter with her name scrawled across the front. The handwriting was all too familiar, making her roll her eyes as she retrieved it from the owl before sending him on his way.

Having met the twins in her first year at Hogwarts was a pivotal moment, developing a fast friendship with the both of them after a prank gone wrong. That fateful afternoon sparked a 12 year long friendship between the twins and her.

Yet, there was always something between her and Fred, others may say they were destined together, they chose to believe they were just really good friends. It’s part of the reason he could send a letter like this, asking for her to rush down to his shop and help him. As annoyed as she would act, she would always rush to his side.

It didn’t take long for her to get dressed and make her way to Diagon Alley, easily finding her way through the busy street to her favorite store. As (Y/n) entered the shop she turned waving to George as she passed through toward the back. The store was as crowded as it usually was for a weekend, causing her to weave through several other customers before she was able to each the employees only section. The letter she had received from Fred to come to the store said it was an urgent matter, but having known him long enough, she was positive he was lying. But yet, here she was.

Not wasting anytime, she pushed into his office, seeing him sat at his desk, feet resting as he smirked upon seeing her enter.

“Well, if it isn’t my most loyal test subject.”

“What is it now, Fred?” She asked, crossing her arms, clearly not assumed by his mood.

Standing up, Fred walked around his desk, handing her a glittery pink vial, causing her to raise an eyebrow as she grabbed it from him. Looking at it, it was clear what it was supposed to be, having seen many of the Twin’s famous love potions before.

“A love potion? Don’t you already have several different kinds?” She asked, curious as to where this was leading.

“Not just any love potion, this is specifically for our older couples. You know, to help them spicy up their lives.”

“Like Viagra?”

Fred raised an eyebrow, not understanding what that was. He quickly shrugged it off, turning back to his sales pitch. “No, no. This is better than any muggle product.” Moving behind her, he put his hands on her shoulders. “What’s the number one reason most people get divorced?” He gave a second for her to think before answering for her. “That’s right, lack of passion. Imagine how many people we could help if we sold passion in a vial. How ‘bout that?”

“Work on your sales pitch, but I do like the idea.” placing a hand in her chin, she observed the vial closely. “I figure you want me to test it?“ Looking over her shoulder she sees Fred nod. “Have you tested it on anything else?”

“Tested a few drops on some plants, didn’t kill them so it should be fine for human consumption.”

“That sounds promising.” She teased, sliding away from his grasp. “What’s in it for me?”

“Besides being so horny there’s no way you won’t have an amazing orgasm once you go home?” He teased, before continuing his pitch. “Usual price, 50 galleons and unlimited supplies if you so need it.”

Fred stuck his hand out, waiting to see if she’d take his offer. After pondering for a few seconds, she reached out with her free hand shaking it. A deal with the devil, some would say.

Uncorking the vial, she pressed it to her lips, swallowing the liquid. Luckily, he had been able to get it to taste more pleasant than his other attempts, reminding her of fresh strawberries with cream. Her eyes moved to look at the ceiling, waiting for the desired effects to happen. Awkwardly she began to look around the room to pass the time, feeling a little weird to test this kind of potion in front of her friend, but money is money. And she trusted that Fred would not kill her.

As she took a look behind him, her attention was drawn to his work station. Her eyes were drawn to the ingredients he had used, haphazardly tossed about. There were the components to making a love potion, a rather simple potion. No, what caught her eye was the other ingredients he had mixed, a good amount well known aphrodisiacs along with an odd collection of ingredients that have her an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Walking over, she got a better look at them, understanding why she felt so uneasy. Mixing these ingredients together are well known for causing the person who took the potion to die if certain conditions weren’t met.

Wide eyed, she snapped to look at Fred, her body feeling warm as she felt it begins to take effect. He seems none the wiser to his fatal error, his arrogant smirk pissing her off. Throwing the empty vial at him, she turned on her heel to face him.

“You fucking moron.” She spat, panic raising in her voice, her legs subconsciously clenching together as that heat began to grow between her legs. “You didn’t make a better love potion, you made an aphrodisiac with poison.”

Fred’s face contorted, not understanding why she seemed so ticked off. His brows pushed together, as he walked over to her, trying to better understand the situation, while also a little ticked off she had thrown the small vial at him. He began to watch her more closely than before, thinking that something about his potion had caused her reaction.

Trying her best not to act on the deep ache, she moved farther from Fred. The feeling was almost too much, her hand subconsciously moving toward her crotch, wanting to swirl circles to dull the ache. Instead, her other hand moved to hold the other one, interlocking her fingers together behind her back.

“What are you on about?” Fred asked as he moved closer.

“Fred, this potion is going to kill me. How fucking dense are you?” (Y/n) ran a hand through her hair, tugging at it to try and regain her focus as her thoughts grew more perverse.

“You’ve gone mental. Don’t tell me you never been horny before, love?” Fred teased, watching the way her face flushed like a virgin.

“I’m being serious.” She said, fanning herself as she felt her body warm up. “You’ve basically just signed my death warrant if I don’t get shagged as soon as possible.”

“So you’re saying, you need dick not to die?” He laughed, almost not taking her seriously.

“Shut up.” She spat, moving away from him as he moved closer.

“Have you gone sick in the brain?” He asks, reaching to take her temperature, which she skillfully dodged. “Honestly, woman, if you wanted me that badly you didn’t need to make up such an insane lie.”

“Fred, fucking listen to me.” She said, stepping forward and grabbing his face to look at his ingredients. “Think real hard about what these ingredients do. I know potions wasn’t your strong suit, but fucking think.”

As Fred surveyed the ingredients, he tried his best to recall his potions class. As his mind ran through all the things Snape had said, he came to the same horrifying conclusion she had come to moments ago. His head whipped around, noticing how want she looked, her eyes struggling to stay locked on his face, and the way her legs shook as they clenched together.

“Oh, I fucked up.” He mumbled, his brain racing as he tried to think of an antidote. Fred bolted from his spot, looking at what ingredients he had left. His mind was racing trying to figure out how to make an antidote before his potion killed her.

Her eyes watched him, panic rising through her body as she felt how the heat began to rise within. The potion Fred had brewed was a lot more fast acting than she was expecting. Even though her brain was being quickly consumed with impure thoughts, she began calculating how much time she had before it would inevitably kill her, but her thoughts kept getting interrupted.

Her eyes trailed down his body, wanting nothing more than to pull his trousers down and go wild with him. It felt insane, she had known him since they were teens and they had never once come close to hooking up, despite all the rumors that had swirled saying otherwise. Speaking of rumors, her mind couldn’t help but focus on the rumors of how good Fred was in bed, remembering how they spoke so highly of his ability. How the girls he did hook up with swore he was the best fuck they had ever had.

Letting out a drawn out whine, she stomped her foot, closing her eyes tight as she tried to fight back from thinking of him like that. It felt so shameful, like she was no better than a common pervert to think that way about Fred. Shaking her head, she used all her brain power to push the impure thoughts out, which she was successfully able to do.

Given the large amounts of aphrodisiacs he had mixed in, she figured they had less than 30 minutes before the effects became irreversible. No matter how fast her and Fred worked, she would still be dead before he figured the correct concoction. The only solution was that they had to have sex now. Eyes widening, she felt a new emotion besides instensely building lust, dread.

“We don’t have fucking time,” she cursed, her breathing becoming more labored as she tried to speak, “we have to do it.”

“It?!”

“It!!!” She shot back, already moving to throw her shirt off her body, exposing him to the way her chest heaved.

Fred nearly had a heart attack seeing her chest. It wasn’t like he was a virgin or anything, he had seen his fair share of tits, but this was his best friend. His insanely hot best friend he has had a massive thing for for years now, but still his best friend. His best friends who was surprisingly good at removing her clothes as fast as she can, most of her clothes now thrown about his office. His best friend who looked as if she was going to jump him any second now.

“We don’t have time for you to guess who to brew the antidote, unless you’d rather I die than fuck me.” Her voice was strained, trying hard to focus on her words than succumbing to the lust.

Fred didn’t respond immediately, causing her to look at him, worried he might just let her die rather than fuck her. Most of her clothes were already thrown around the room, she felt way too exposed for a serious moment like this. Raising her eyebrows, she shot him a concerned look, silently pleading that he wouldn’t just let her suffer for his mistake. It seemed to have knocked some sense into Fred, who quickly responded.

“Right,” he stuttered out, “you’re right.” He quickly said, beginning to unbutton his shirt, his mind racing with a million thoughts. “I am so bloody sorry, (Y/n).”

“Shut up, if you get all sad and shit it’ll be difficult for you to get hard.” She replied, trying her best to seem cold and calculated. Her thoughts were only occupied on getting this done as soon as possible, no need for feelings. “You can think of ways to make this up to me after I’m no longer dying.”

“Wait,” Fred said, making (Y/n) stop in her tracks, “let me just…” he reached over, pushing her close to him before apperating them both into the apartment above the store, right in his room. “This will be better.”

The environment from his office to his room was definitely better, no longer could they hear the muffled sounds of customers from within the store. Fred’s room was messy, clearly he hadn’t assumed this would be how his day would be going. As he threw his clothes onto the floor where the rest of his laundry seemed to end up, he tried to think of sexy thoughts to get himself aroused. But looking back at his friend, who was giving him the most fuckable bedroom eyes he had ever seen did the trick.

(Y/n) ripped off her underwear, tossing them into the room before laying on the bed, crawling backwards as she let out a shaky moan, her mind unable to fight off the lustful thoughts anymore. Her hand reached between her legs, trying to relieve some of the pressure, but only making her more needy. Some part of her felt humiliated, to be reduced this easily from a potion, no longer able to spit out any kind of insult at him as she stared up at him. All she was able to do was speak directly from her lust, not able to cover it up with any kind of quick witted reply as she normally would.

“Fuck,” she shakily moaned, her eyes then locking onto Fred’s, “need you. Badly.”

Now, here’s how Fred’s usual hook ups turn out. He charms them into his bed and then shows them how it’s done. Never in his life had he ever been lost for words, yet a situation like this rarely occurs. So you must forgive him for not knowing what to do watching his best friend of over ten years touch herself and talk to him like that.

Fred made his way to the bed, sliding in between her parted thighs. He felt like a total prat for even struggling to take control of the situation and fuck her. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Fred steadied himself, reaching down to stroke himself a few times. His cock stood tall and proud, making her clench in need as she looked down.

As he lined himself up with her entrance, he found the situation awkward given their history. She deserved better than a standard fuck, a little romance and, though he hates to say it, a little passion. Looking down at her, his hair falling perfectly over his face, he spoke.

“Can I kiss you?”

(Y/n) looked at him incredulously, already completely naked in front of him. The rational part of her brain wanted to tell him no, to keep their feelings out of this and just do what they have to to keep her from an early grave. But god, did she want to kiss him. To not feel like this decision is inevitably going to ruin your friendship.

She quickly nodded her head, her lust answering for her as she shot forward, wrapping her arms around his neck.

It should’ve been awkward, like kissing a sibling. They both should’ve hated the kiss, but instead it was electrifying. Their mouths melded perfectly together, as if they were meant to be.

As they made out, Fred got to work, rubbing the tip of his cock against her cunt, trying to coat it in her slick before he slid in. His eyes almost rolled back when he felt just got wet she already was, groaning into her mouth as his hips subconsciously pushed forward. (Y/n) whined against his mouth, her eyes screwing up as the tip of his cock bumped into her inflamed clit, mumbling out his name.

It was all too much, her body felt on fire as she began to beg him to fuck her, tears welling as the potion came to a head. Her head was swimming with lust as she felt his length press against her.

Fred began to push in, trying to go as slow as possible. God, it felt way too good to be true, as if she was meant for him the way she perfectly sucked him in. As he pulled back from the kiss, he couldn’t help but watch the way he stretched her open.

“You feel s’good,” Fred groaned as he was fully sheathed in her.

“Fred-,” her voice called out, the air from her lungs having been knocked out from the feeling. Her nails were digging into his back as she felt him bottom out, his words almost too much to hear at the same time. “Move. Move now, need it,” it would’ve sound like her usually bossy tone if it wasn’t as whiney as it had been.

His hips moved back, almost agonizingly slow before snapping forward with enough force to move her up the bed. She couldn’t tell if it was the potion or if Fred was actually this good in bed, but it was driving her crazy how good she felt. A part of her feared she may be ruined for life, that nobody else would ever make her feel this good ever again. Not that she’d ever admit that to him, his ego already too inflated for his own good.

“Need me that bad that you’ll beg for it?” He smugly spoke, his hips snapping forward to accentuate his point. “Need me to fuck you nice and hard?” He teased, clearly not feeling as awkward as he once did.

Reaching out, his finger masterfully found its way to her clit, swirling around it. (Y/n) threw her head back, loudly whining as she ground against him. Her hands went to cover her face, embarrassed that she knew the potion wasn’t entirely to blame for how horny she felt in this moment. That fucking her best friend was better than any rumor she had ever heard.

“Come on, tell me how good you feel, (Y/n).”

God, did she want to smack him upside his smug head, to wipe that grin off the cocky bastards face. But she couldn’t hide the way his words made her feel, how he cunt clenched tightly around him each time he spoke. Bringing her arm over her face, she attempted to hide from him, too flustered by his dirty talk. Nobody had ever talked to her like this and she definitely didn’t expect Fred would be the one to do so.

His hips started to slow, causing her eyes to snap open. Panic began to rise in her chest, both sides of her brain not wanting this to stop. It was a bluff, he felt way too good to stop. And he didn’t want her to die either.

“Need you to tell me how bad you want this cock.”

Exasperated by his sudden need to hear her, she let her lust driven brain speak freely. Throwing her head back, she didn’t even filter her thoughts out.

“Please fuck me, need to feel you fill me up. Feels so fucking good, Fred.” Her hips attempted to grind up against his, but felt his hand hold her down. “Wanted this, wanted to feel you stretch me out for so long.”

“You’re so bloody perfect.” Fred’s his snapped back into hers, a new sense of vigor taking over as he pounded into her. “Gonna make this pussy mine.”

His eyes met hers and for the first time they saw each other since this whole mess started. She stared up at him with her pupils blown out in lust, but with so much trust in him.

His hips stuttered as he felt unbelievably close, his mouth opening as his eyes shut, letting out a groan. “Oh, fuck. Feels so good. Not gonna last much longer.”

As he spoke, her hips began to rise, grinding against his groin as she met his thrusts. The deep need to release filling her mind to the brim. Her head moved to look at the clock on the wall, but Fred’s hand moved to stop her from looking.

“Focus on me,” he spoke, his voice deep as his hips began to hammer into her harder, “just focus on me.”

Looking into his eyes, seeing how he looked at her for the first time was eye opening. All the love and adoration he felt for her as his hips continued to pound into her made her legs lock around him, keeping him in place. Throwing her head back, her vision turned white, her voice cracking from the intensity she felt as her body tensed up around him, finally releasing.

And Fred was right, this was one of the best orgasms of her life. Mind shattering, earth breaking, pure bliss from such a tiny vial of poison.

His hips began to slow as she clenched around him, sucking him deep. Feeling him twitch inside her as he shot his load into her, his hips pressing firmly against hers as he released his seed. Her eyes clenched shut and her nails dug into his shoulder blades, hard enough to leave marks.

Unexpectedly, he leaned down, pressing a passionate kiss to her lips, his hips still pressed firmly against her. (Y/n)’s hands flew to his hair, tangling into his ginger locks as she kissed back, riding out their climaxes together.

Once the emotions came down, he rested his forehead against hers, savoring the remaining moments before he had to pull away. Looking back down, he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, then pulling out, apologizing as he saw her wince at the feeling.

As Fred pulled out, (Y/n) felt her body begin to feel normal again, no longer under the control of the potion. Between the mix of sweat and the feeling of his cum leaking out of her, she felt that her thoughts were finally hers, no longer clouded by lust. Looking over, she saw Fred running a hand through his hair, seeing him in entirely new light than before. And suddenly everything made sense to her.

All those failed dates, countless nights spent wondering why nobody ever made her feel like this. It all clicked into place in her mind.

They were both laid in Fred’s bed, staring at the ceiling, coming to terms with everything they just did. No longer with the looming threat of death, it gave them a moment to reflect on what this meant for them. It was clear that they could not ignore this and move on from it, not when they both felt the same.

Fred makes the first move, moving closer to her, doing that thing where he pokes at her head when she’s over thinking. He gets one of those smiles that just lights up the room before he speaks to her.

“Soooo… round two?” Fred half heartedly joked.

Her hands reach to grab her pillow and push it into his face, softly smothering him. She playful pulled away from his embrace, needing to run to the bathroom to clean the mess.

“Shut up, I need to get cleaned up.” She spoke, trying to sound irritated but the smile on her face betrayed her.

He playfully reached out, missing her warmth next to him as she searched the room for something to cover herself with.

“Hopefully that afternoon crowd will keep George busy, because I’m not done with you.” Fred yells after her, laughing at her embarrassment as she wrapped a blanket around her and ran down the hall to his bathroom. “I have years to make up for not doing this.”

“Yeah, you can think of ways to make up for nearly killing me while your waiting.”

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