#mrs fred weasley

[slytherclaw1978]

I usually don’t like anything involving both twins but I think this is the only fic I’ve ever read where I’ll allow it

Hear me out! Possessive sex + Overstimulation + Brat Taming + Breeding. Both of the Weasley Twins please. 🤭

I just always have this thought of just teasing the shit out of them when they’re work and fleeing afterwards. It’s almost as if we took their job of teasing us, and I could just imagine how pent up and frustrated they can be when they can’t do anything since there’s kids and adults around. The joke shop is suppose to be an appropriate place especially when it’s meant mainly for kids..Perhaps, add a part where we purposefully flirt with one of our old classmates. You can choose who! If you don’t like this idea, I completely understand! Feel free to add some kinks if you like or story elements. 🫶

Hi Anon! I’m so sorry it has taken so long to get this out, writing has had to be on the back-burner for now but I’m slowly getting back! Sorry for the lack of smut, it’s more of the setup as I’m abit smutted out 🖤

Warnings: Sexual tension, brat behaviour, Dom!sub relationships, polyamory, teasing, sexual references, mild swearing. Flirting, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy kink, breeding kink.

Word count: 2.5k

Wonder Witch

You knew what you were getting into the second you opened up your wardrobe and changed into the outfit you'd carefully prepared for today. Your husbands had already long since departed the flat to set up the shop for the day, leaving you just a little later to sleep in, which you were thankful for.

Today was the big launch of new wonder witch products that the twins had been tirelessly working on, perfecting the range ready for the big launch today. You'd helped with ordering violently pink balloons to decorate every orifice of the shop, had banners printed and had even managed to convince Madame Puddifoot's to make some limited edition iced biscuits for the celebration, all in the same sickening shade of pink.

The icing on the cake was the costume that you'd picked out ready to hand out and display the new items, recreating the wonder witch icon on the packaging.

The dress in itself wasn't too risky, an array of pink and gold overlapping fabric that fell just above your knee, with a pointed witches hat in a smilies style. But it also had exposed shoulders with dropped sleeves and a corseted middle which hoisted in your waist to create a rather dramatic shape, highlighting your hips in a way that you knew would drive your husbands crazy. You carefully curled your hair and applied a healthy dose of mascara to really make your eyes pop before applying an equally vibrant lipsticks that you'd found matched the colour of wonder witch perfectly. You added a little highlighter around your cheeks to give you a little bit more of a playful look and slipped on your shoes to really help bring the look together.

When you looked in the mirror, you were more than pleased with yourself. You looked hot.

Checking the clock, you saw that it was 8:53am, just in time for the store to open. You could hear the twins flapping, mainly George, the moment you opened the door towards the staircase. They were bustling ready for the big opening and the unsurprising lack of Verity meant that she was probably going to be late again.

"Angel can you put these products on the... shit." George says the second you walk down the stairs, noticing the outfit almost immediately.

"What's up with you?" Fred asks, walking over to George under the staircase until he comes into full view, noticing that his twin seems to be frozen on the spot. He turns, looking towards the direction George seems frozen at and you watch as his eyes widen also comically wide. "Holy Godric."

"Morning," you say cheerfully, leaning up to press a kiss to George's cheek before doing the same to Fred as they look at you in complete shock, mouths slightly parted. "Where do you want me?"

"Um," George says, clearing his throat though his eyes hardly move from the curve of your breasts, a prominent feature of your dress. You fight the urge to laugh, wanting to keep up your little innocent play, pretending that you had no idea why they were looking at you like that.

"You want these on the shelf?" You ask, batting your eyelashes at them, watching as Fred's tongue pokes out to wet his lips.

The little clock on the wall chimes, signalling the store opening, just as you bend down to grab the box of products and you look up with pouting lips, watching as the twins hardly react to the chimes.

"You gonna unlock the doors big boy?" You ask Fred with a singular raised eyebrows, noticing how he doesn't even attempt to pull out his wand. A frantic knock on the doors pulls him out of his thoughts and you all turn to see Verity knocking to be let it, surrounded by a large crowd of customers ready to shop the new products. You flash a little wink at George as Fred unlocks the doors with a flick of his wand, the fireworks and the tricks beginning all in perfect synchronisation. When you look back up after picking up the box of products and see your two men still staring at you, completely unaware of the swarm of customers bursting through the doors, you knew today was going to be fun.

The store was packed right from opening, a never-ending swarm of people crossing through the doors until the shop was almost too full of people, all wanting to get their hands on the new merchandise. It was an overwhelming success, the new line of wonder witch products and cosmetics and you were thankful, fortunate and insanely proud of your husbands for pulling off the ideas you'd created together. You should have been tired, drained from the day as it neared closing time but truthfully you were on an adrenaline high, on cloud nine from teasing your husbands all day and seeing their increasing desperation.

All day you'd made sure to be a little bit of a brat, an utter tease whilst trying to portray yourself as an innocent Angel- something you knew for a fact that they didn't believe in the slightest.

George was easier to rile up, always quicker to respond to your more subtle teasing. You'd brushed past him a number of times today, the packed shop only aiding your need to slowly brush your ass against the front of his trousers as you squeezed past him or to pass something up to Verity on the stairs, ensuring that he got a face full of cleavage as you stretched up. You'd caught him staring at you more times today than you could count on all your extremities, especially when you climbed the stairs above him, ensuring that he knew your bare thighs were right above him.

Fred didn't always respond to subtlety, so you knew your efforts had to be boosted when it came to him. You'd purposely licked and sucked at one of the dark mark lollipops in the most outrageous way whenever he was paying attention and you'd even heard him choke on his own spit when he noticed.

You knew you had him when you were explaining to a group of seventh year girls about the patented daydream charms and how how they worked, passing out the colourful boxes items around the group as they accepted them with eager and curious eyes.

"Up to thirty minutes of pure, blissful imagination; let me tell you it will create a very realistic daydream of your choice so you know that boy you're crushing on? You're going to have the best thirty minutes of your life."

You're met with a round of playful giggles as you smile at them, knowing you were in for a good sale.

"Have you used it?" One of the girls asks and you nod eagerly with a smirk, knowing that Fred was just behind you from the way you could feel his presence, hearing him talk only moments before.

"Not since I married him," you say with a smirk as you receive another round of girlish giggles. "Between us, those thirty minutes with Fred were some of my most imaginative creations, believe me these little things are special," you say, twisting the box in your hands. "Just don't tell George." You watch as the girls' eyes light up and they quickly shove them in their baskets. You turn then, catching Fred's eye as he pretends not to have been listening and you act as if you're bashful about what he might have heard, placing a strand of hair nervously behind your ear as you walk away, making sure to sway your hips ever so slightly, knowing he'd be watching.

By lunchtime, you'd effortlessly riled them up to a point that it was so painfully obvious what they were trying to hide that you found yourself biting back a smirk for most of the day. They were so easily and deeply affected that it was rather fun to watch, but none more so than when Dean Thomas came into the shop just after the dinner time rush. You'd taken a quick break and had reapplied your lipstick, carefully checking you appearance before you walked down the stairs back to work. Dean had been talking to both of your lives near the stairs when he spotted you, eyes briefly widening as he took in your appearance. Unfortunately for him, Fred had been mid sentence and had definitely noticed Dean checking you out, making his go silent and cause a thunderous look to cross his face.

"Y/n, hi! It's good to see you!" Dean smiles as you approach them all, careful to avoid looking at the faces of your husbands who had now both caught on to Dean's over-pleasant demeanour.

"Dean, good to see you too!"

"You look good! Who knew that y/n (*maiden name) would become wonder witch!" His hands gesture towards your outfit and then to the display of new products to the side with your likeness on.

"It's Weasley," both twins said a little too quickly, in perfect synchronisation, making you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop a laugh spilling out at their obvious jealously.

"Of course," Dean says somewhat absently, not picking up on the sudden hostility aimed at him by the shop-owners. "So what have you been up to? Do you see the others much?"

"Didn't ask us this many questions," you hear George mumble under his breath to Fred, who has crossed his arms across his chest and is hardly blinking, watching Dean closely.

"The usual," you smile, shooting a fleeting glance at your two husbands who's red faces seem to match their hair. "Keeping these two in line, keeping the shop afloat," you joke.

"So no little Weasley's running about yet?"

You could almost sense the little eye twitch George did at the words and you were certain that Fred seemed to stand even straighter, making himself even taller to tower over Dean.

"Hopefully soon," you say, biting your lip and George's eyes flicker to you with a fire in them, your words affecting him more easily than you'd anticipated. Fred seemed to incidentally lose his footing and was knocked off balance for a second, breaking the rather playful mood that had settled between you and Dean.

After Dean had left with a few things he'd come for, you finally accepted your fate and let the veil slip enough to drop the innocent act you'd been playing all day. Fred had cornered you beside the till, a stolen moment of peace as you reached high up to re-stock the daydreams, flashing him with a glimpse of your stocking.

"Really Freddie?" You pretended to admonish as you felt his rather prominent evidence of arousal against your hip as he started to get grabby with you, nearing the end of his restraint. "This is a respected establishment Mr Weasley, there are children about!"

You shuffled past him with a little tut, hiding your smirk behind your hair, leaving him stranded with mouth agape at your sudden boldness. George wasn't faring much better, his eyes still fixed on the curve of your breasts whenever he caught a glimpse, silently watching you rile him up further and further as your act slipped away.

With one last attempt at completely flipping the switch inside of them, throwing them over the metaphorical cliff, you doubled down your efforts. It was nearly closing time and you walked slyly over to the cash register whilst George was cashing up for the night and began stretching, pointing out your chest and making some very questionable noises. You adjusted the little cold shoulder straps on your dress and readjusted your breasts in the dress, sensing your attentive audience of George who was close by and Fred who had stopped what he was doing to watch you from across the shop. You suddenly turned and walked behind George, placing your hand on his hip as you squeezed past to reach for a carrier bag, carefully dragging your hand over his lower back as you leaned down. When you began to turn and walk away, you felt a large hand shoot out and grab your wrist.

“Angel.”

His tone was clear and clipped, telling you everything you needed to do.

“I know exactly what you’re doing,” he says, moving to stand behind you in the near empty shop, an obvious erection pressing into your behind. “Keep going little brat, you’re only fuelling the fire.”

When he lets you go and turns back to his task with no other reaction, you knew it was time to slip away. You rushed up the stairs, carefully avoiding both of them, ready for the next step of the plan. You’d prepped dinner on your lunch break, wanting to get ahead for the night and flicked the oven on with a flick of your wand as soon as you made it upstairs. You kicked off your shoes, pulled off your panties and waited, busying yourself to ward off the desperate arousal you were feeling, anticipating a good but long night ahead.

As soon as you heard the familiar, incoming footsteps on the landing, you bent over in your skirt to slip the pie into the oven, giving them quite a show when they walked in.

“Fucking Godric,” you heard Fred exclaim when he stepped through the door, followed by a similar curse only moments later by his twin as they see your pussy on full display for them, peeking out from below the short skirt as you bend over.

“Princess,” he says, beginning to stalk over to you as you pulled yourself up, closing the oven. You looked at them innocently, big doe-eyes and fluttering lashes as you watched them darkly approach you.

“You were naughty today,” George says, his hand reaching out to cup the back of your neck as he pulls you into a devastatingly sinful kiss that immediately makes your nipples harden under the dress. You gasp into his mouth when you suddenly feel a hand creeping up your inner thigh, underneath your dress.

“Remember what you said to Dean, princess?” Fred asks, voice dangerously low, prompting you to nod whilst trying to catch your breath. You knew exactly what you’d said, what you’d hoped for.

“Reckon we should start now?” He asks, his hand ghosting over the curve of your ass, feeling the bare flesh underneath his fingers. “Want you knocked up right fucking now.”

“Agreed,” George adds, somehow looking and sounding ever darker and more determined than Fred. George suddenly reaches out and turns off the oven with a harsh flick of his wrist, smirking when you look up at him in confusion at him turning off the oven.

“We’re not gonna be done with you that soon,” he says with a devilish smirk. “Gonna cum in you over and over, taking turns filling you. There’s gonna be so much cum in you that you won’t know where you start and we end, get you all round from us. Now.”

“Get on the bed.”

[adekalyn]

Mrs. Weasley: Well look at you two! Don't you look all nice and neat!

Fred, hair styled and in formal robes: Yes, we believe in the importance of good grooming.

George: Speaking of which, we’d better go clean our room if we want to be in bed on time.

Mrs. Weasley, watching them walk off: JUST WHAT ARE YOU TWO UP TO?!

[aprill-99]

Here’s my new rule on character deaths:

If all the fix-it fic on AO3 has to do is say “actually, no they didn’t” and NOTHING else in the story/plot needs changes, then the death was unnecessary.

I don’t mean the ones where the authors write it and then just forget the character exists for the rest of the plot because they chose to focus on other characters/events. I mean the times where the authors can use that meme from the Avengers with Samuel L Jackson ignoring the counsel, change maybe 4 paragraphs, and the rest of the story needs absolutely no changes.

[easterbonnet]

Mr Weasley's apprentice for the day

[f-o-and-selfship-club]

Childhood lovelies

[blueberrystarr]

The amount of things I hype fixate over is astounding! I mean look at it! (included with favorite characters)

The Boys in The Boat (Don Hume)

Harry Potter (The Weasley Twins)

ROTTMNT (Leonardo)

Welcome Home (Frank)

Fantastic Mr. Fox (Ash or Agnes)

The Isle of Dogs (Chief)

Maze Runner (Newt)

Frasier ( Niles Crane)

I have more, I might gain more, whatever. But yeah, I probably will never stop being a good little movie nerd. :3

[braveclementine]

Chapter 2

Warnings: None, Readers under 18 can read this book. It is solely fluff- nothing sexual

Copyright: I do not own any Wizarding World characters that J.K. Rowling wrote. I do however own Elizabeth Kane (main character) and Trang Nyguen (best friend). There should be no use of these two names without my permission. I also do not condone any copying of this.

.💚💚.

Dear Elizabeth, Ron just wrote me to tell me that he and Fred and George are going to try and save Harry. That's the way he put it anyways. I think he just means going and picking him up. I certainly hope they don't do anything dangerous or against the wizarding rules. I'm incredibly busy with homework and studying-I'm sure you're doing the same. I just wrote a letter to Ron saying that I'm going to Diagon Alley next Wednesday. Will you be able to make it? . I'm still waiting to hear back from Ron. I figure we should get our Hogwarts letters sometime this week. Love, Hermione

I sighed, setting aside the letter. Hogwarts again. Now don't get me wrong, I love Hogwarts, it's my home away from home but. . .I closed my eyes, laying down on the bed. I'd nearly been killed three times and had jumped from a window to escape death. I could only imagine what horrible things were going to happen this year.

Knock it off, I scolded myself. You put yourself in that situation, if you had just been as obedient as every other kid, you wouldn't have been in that situation. Just don't do anything stupid or irresponsible this year.

Easier said than done though. I turned away from the letter and went over to the music player, putting on a Beatles record. Then, laying down on my bed, I closed my eyes, thinking, looking into this upcoming year.

My visions worked funny. I can't just see into a year, it's like there's a block on them until I get closer to the actual date. But sometimes- and only sometimes- if I concentrated enough, I could get a farther view.

"I wanna hold your hand. . ."

I concentrated farther. The visions moved fast, some of them melting together and others stood out like pictures on a wall. A sudden image of a young blond man with extravagant clothes was standing in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Then red paint on a wall. Then, water on the floor. A potion bubbling in the bathroom. Then, hissing and-

"ELIZABETH!" Dad called from somewhere downstairs.

I jumped, falling off my bed and knocking over the record player. It crashed to the ground. "Idiot." I muttered, pushing myself up off the ground, getting to my feet. I wasn't entirely sure if I was talking about myself or dad.

Dad appeared in the doorway. He surveyed the damage and then grimaced. "Trying to meditate?"

"Something like that," I muttered, pulling out my wand and pointing it at the record player.

"Elizabeth." Dad's voice had warning in it and I sighed, putting down my wand. Dad pulled out his own wand. "Reparo." He said calmly and the record player was repaired. Then, putting his own wand away, he said, "You know you're not supposed to do magic outside of school."

I picked up the player, putting it on my dresser. I'd just said I was going to stop being a rebel and here I was, already breaking the new found resolution. Maybe I should wait until New Years to make the resolution. "Sorry, I forgot."

"Come on downstairs, we have stuff to talk about." Dad said, leaving the room.

Seeing that there was no choice, I followed. I slumped into a seat at the breakfast table. "What happened?" I asked dully. I had forgotten about going and seeing him when he went up to his room last night.

"I got a erm, new job." Dad said uncomfortably, stirring his tea. I sat up and stared at him, trying to find out what was so bad about this new opportunity.

"Okay. . ." I said slowly, thinking, frowning in concentration.

"I'm going to have to leave next Wednesday." He said, "Which means that I won't be able to transport you to Kings Crossing on September 1st."

"Oh that's okay!" I said immediately. Whatever made things easier for Dad. "Ronald Weasley invited me to stay at his house. We're all planning on meeting up at Diagon Alley next Wednesday anyways. I can just go and stay with him. Or Hermione probably wouldn't mind either."

Dad blinked in surprise. "You didn't tell me your friends asked you to stay over."

I blushed. "Grounded, remember?"

Dad gave me an amused smile. "You're going to stay out of trouble this year, right?"

"Yes, and I'm going to make the Hufflepuff Quidditch team." I said. "So that broom doesn't go to waste."

At that moment, my rabbit Sushi sprinted through the room, did a lap around the table, and then did binkies back into the hallway.

"Awww." I squealed, my whole body tightening up in happiness. "You're so-" Then I stopped, turning to my dad and asked seriously. "Wait, who's going to take care of Sushi?"

Dad chuckled, "You would be worried about that, wouldn't you?" He smoothed my hair back with his hand, "I already asked Trang's parents to watch him. They're delighted."

"Oh good." I said happily, relaxing. "I'm going to go upstairs and pack."

"Already?" Dad asked in surprise.

"Well, I also have to send an answer to Ron and my bedroom's a mess so I need to locate everything." I said, blushing again.

"Oh, that's right." Dad said, taking a sip of tea. "I'll be cooking dinner tonight."

"Aww, dad I can still do that." I said.

Dad waved his hand. "It'll taste fine."

I hesitated. "Wait, no."

Dad frowned. "I don't cook that badly."

I laughed. "It's not that, I want to celebrate this new job opportunity. Come on, I'll take you out to eat."

Dad looked even more surprised than he had before. "Take me out to eat? Where?"

I jumped up and down in joy. "There's this great restaurant that you haven't been to before. It's called Panda Inn here. But in the U.S. it's called Panda Express. Apparently, they're supposed to have this delicious chicken that Trang calls Orange chicken. I've been wanting to try it for a long time now!"

Dad laughed and grinned. "So is this celebration for me or for you to try out your chicken?"

"Guilty." I said, grinning back.

"Oh," Dad said, picking up a piece of mail. "This came for you."

I grabbed it. "My Hogwarts letter!" I flipped it over and glared at him. "It's already open. That's a crime you know."

Dad laughed. "Only if you tell. The books ought to be interesting though."

I read over the list quickly.

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart

"I have to get and read all of these?" I asked revolted by the matching of letters like a children's book. "What a waste of money."

I finally got a real laugh out of dad. Then he grinned at me, "Wonder what he wrote about the Werewolves?"

I gave him a reluctant smile. "I'll read that one first and tell you."

"Alright, so go get ready." Dad said, finishing off his tea, "I'll be waiting."

I stared at him, raising an eyebrow. "Dad, it's a Muggle restaurant."

"So?" He looked at me confused.

"You need to go get dressed in Muggle clothes." I said, my lips twitching upwards into an amused smile. I waved a hand at his wizarding robes.

"Oh that's right." He muttered. "Let's see who gets ready the fastest."

I giggled sprinting up the stairs, and I heard a crack in the dining room, telling me he had apparated. "CHEATER!" I shouted, dashing into my bedroom. I heard him laughing from his room.

I pulled on my shoes and grabbed my purse, quickly checking to see how much money I had. I flipped through the bills- £60. Great, that should be enough to cover dinner tonight. I turned out the light and then dashed back downstairs. Yes! I'd beaten dad.

I bit my lip, slightly amused. I was eleven- almost twelve- why was I being so childish? I had this problem a lot. This was something we hadn't done since I was maybe eight. I sighed. Perhaps dad felt bad about leaving, or maybe there was something he wasn't telling me.

Dad popped down next to me with another crack. "Alright you win."

I grinned up at him. I'd question him tonight at dinner. "Let's go."

.💚💚.

𝕴 𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖉 𝖎𝖓 bed, staring up at the ceiling. I kept messing with the ring dad had given me for my birthday. Turning it over, feeling along it. It was a baby dragon ring, sometimes it curled its tail around my finger tighter. Sometimes it moved its head and I felt a little warmth along my palm. It was green, and sparkly, and felt like it was made of glass but it wasn't.

I sighed, rolling over, and carefully placed it on the bedside table. It curled up and I stared at it. I tried to figure out what was nagging me.

I closed my eyes, trying to sleep. Trang was leaving for America tomorrow, I was going to go and see her off at the airport.

I fell into sleep.

A shadowy figure stood on the edge of a large walkway. There were hissing noises and a snake slithered out and reached up to the person's waist. It was an anaconda snake, a type of water snake- native to the Amazon Rainforest in Brazil.

'Dangeroussss thingssss are going to happen. . . more dangerousssss than perhapssss the firsst time. . .' The boy whispered to the snake. He stayed in the shadows so all I could see was that he was tall. So the boy spoke parseltongue? But how could I possibly understand what they were saying? Oh, right, I must be dreaming.

The snake's tongue flicked in and out, 'find the ssssprocket, find the ssink, it all worksss asss well asss you think.'

So snakes could rhyme? Strange.

The boy turned to face me and all I could see were two, glowing red eyes.

I woke up with a start, sweating. I looked over at the clock. It was six in the morning. I slumped back down on my bed. Once my breathing returned back to normal, I climbed out of bed to start my day.

I quickly got dressed for a muggy day- jeans, a T-shirt, and a light rain jacket. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and tucked my locket under my shirt. I hadn't felt it burn in ages, so I felt safe wearing it under my clothes again.

I hesitated, looking at the ring, and finally realized why I felt so weird last night- I hadn't sent Harry anything for his birthday. But, he could definitely still be at his house, I hadn't heard back from Ron yet for confirmation about staying with him next week.

I picked up the dragon ring and put it close to my finger. It curled around it and I smiled. I was going to have to thank Dad again.

I grabbed my purse, put on my leather black combat boots, and ran down the stairs to go see Trang off at the airport.

.💚💚.

𝕭𝖞 𝖂𝖊𝖉𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖉𝖆𝖞, 𝕴 was packed and ready to go. My trunk was full of my Hogwarts robes, quills, ink bottles, and textbooks that I would need this year. Any book I didn't need was left on my bed. Any book I didn't need, but I wanted to bring, were packed in my leather school bag.

Dad had already left an hour ago so I didn't need to worry about good-byes anymore. I dragged my heavy trunk into the fireplace. I pulled my bag over my head, slinging it on my shoulder. I checked my pocket to make sure that my wand was still there.

I checked that I was wearing my locket, bracelet from Fred last Christmas, and my dragon ring. Then, I grabbed a handful of floo powder from the pot next to the fireplace and stepped into the fireplace. I threw it down and shouted "Diagon alley!"

I felt the spinning sensation and clutched tightly to my trunk so we'd both get out at the right time. When I saw the grate, I leaned forward and fell out. My trunk clattered down next to me and I quickly set it right side up and started pulling it towards the exit. Damn, why was this thing so freaking heavy?

"Elizabeth! Hey Elizabeth!" I heard my name being shouted by a familiar voice. I turned, a smile on my face.

George and Fred Weasley ran up to me. Their bright red hair was combed back the same way. They were still rather thin and tall.

"Hey guys." I said cheerfully, punching George's arm and smiling at Fred, "What's up?"

"Nothing much." George said, chuckling, punching me back lightly. "You?"

"I'm not looking forward to these stupid books we have to buy." I said with an eye roll. "They're ridiculously expensive and sound incredibly stupid."

Fred and George laughed but looked strained.

"Yeah, they are expensive." Fred said quietly, mostly to himself.

I bit my lip. I shouldn't be complaining. I'd grown up poor, but now I had a huge allowance from my parents. On the other hand, Fred and George had grown up poor and were still poor. I decided to get enough gold out of the bank so they could buy their own sets.

Mr. Weasley got out of the fire next and Fred introduced me to him.

"Harry should be coming next." Mr. Weasley said, when we were done with introductions. I waited eagerly, unable to control my excitement. While Harry didn't know that we were related, I did, and I was glad we were friends.

However, the next person that came out of the fire was Percy Weasley. He looked around as he came up to his father and asked, "Did Harry not come out?"

We all shook our heads. Percy cursed and said, "Harry went before me but he mixed up his words."

We all froze. "So. . . we don't know where he is?" I asked.

Percy nodded. Ron came out of the fire next. I closed my eyes, trying to see if I could find Harry. There- he was in a dark shop, a man with blond hair in the room with him. It looked like Harry was hiding in something. I didn't know exactly where he was, but in the end I could only figure one place like this.

"Elizabeth?" Fred asked. "You okay?"

"Oh, um yeah." I said. I quickly put my trunk up against the wall with other trunks, and locked it. Then I took off, Fred yelling my name behind me. Now which was was Knockturn Alley? I ran down the streets, probably looking crazy.

Then, I ran into Hagrid, who was walking up the streets with Harry.

"Lousy Muggles, If I'd known-" Hagrid was saying. "Careful where yer goin' Elizabeth!" he added as I bounced off of him. He reached out with a large hand and caught me before I fell on the street.

"Thanks Hagrid. Hi Harry!" I beamed.

"Hi Elizabeth." Harry said, smiling back shyly.

I heard a voice behind me saying "Harry! Elizabeth! Over here!"

I turned to see Hermione running down the Gringotts steps. "Hello Elizabeth!" Hermione said, embracing me.

Harry, Hermione, and I walked up the Gringotts steps with Hagrid.

"What happened to your glasses?" Hermione was asking Harry. "Hello, Hagrid- Oh it's wonderful to see you two again- are you coming into Gringotts, Harry?"

"As soon as I've found the Weasleys," Harry said with a grin, giving me a proper hug now that things had settled down.

"Let me see your glasses." I said, holding my hand out.

"Yeh won't have long ter wait." Hagrid said with a grin, pointing down the street.

The three of us peered down the street. Ron, Fred, George, Percy, and Mr. Weasley were all sprinting up the street towards us. I pulled out my wand and tapped Harry's glasses with my wand. "Reparo." His glasses snapped together and the glass shards connected again.

"Thanks." Harry said, putting his glasses back on.

"Yeh know yer not su'ppose ter be doin' magic outside of school Elizabeth." Hagrid chastised but he was grinning. The Ministry wouldn't know I was doing magic underage considering Diagon Alley was pretty much as magical and non-Muggle as you could get in London.

"Harry," Mr. Weasley said panting, as they caught up to us. "We hoped you'd only gone one grate too far. . . Molly's frantic- she's coming now-" He mopped his brow with a handkerchief.

"Where'd you turn out?" Ron asked, curious.

"Knockturn Alley." Hagrid said grimly.

"Excellent." Fred, George, and I all said together and then we all grinned at each other.

"We've never been allowed in." Ron said, sounding jealous.

"I should ruddy well think not." Hagrid growled at him.

I saw Mrs. Weasley running up the steps now, a handbag swinging violently from one hand, a little red-headed girl clutching her other hand. That must be Fred's little sister Ginny.

I started walking into Gringotts. I wanted to get the money so that I could get it to Fred and George before they left. Harry, Ron, and Hermione ran up to join me.

"Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked. That must've been the store that I'd seen him in.

"Lucius Malfoy?" I asked.

"Yeah, and Draco." Harry said, giving me a surprised.

"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" Mr. Weasley asked from behind us.

"No, he was selling-" Harry said.

"So he's worried. Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something. . ." Mr. Weasley said slowly and with some sort of satisfaction.

I didn't know Lucius Malfoy, but if he was anything like his son, than he was probably an evil git. Plus, I was fairly certain that he had been a Death Eater. By fairly certain I meant 100%. Oh the things rich people get away with.

We entered Gringotts and I told Harry and Ron to come with me. Ron was more than willing and we left Hermione in the main hall with her parents, who were exchanging Muggle Money for Wizarding coins. Mrs. Weasley went her separate way with Ginny.

We went to Harry's vault first. He had quite a bit of money, though perhaps a bit less than I did. Then we went to my vault. I filled two bags and then we went back up to the surface. I gave Ron half of one of the bags and winked at him and then went off to join Fred and George. I heard Ron sputtering behind me and Harry laughing.

Fred, George, and I met up with Lee Jordan outside the bank. I heard Mrs. Weasley shout from behind us. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!"

Fred, George, and I laughed. That was the first place we visited. Fred and George went down two steps, Lee went down three. I went down the entire way and then sprinted back up. It became a competition until someone appeared at the end of the corridor and we all sprinted the entire way back towards Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop.

We relaxed, laughing.

"Mum's going to kill us if she finds out." George muttered, looking through the different types of fireworks.

"She's not going to find out." I said pleasantly. "So don't worry about it."

"Oh yeah, Ron says that you're coming to stay with us for the last couple weeks of vacation." Fred said, "Is that true?"

I nodded, "Yeah, my dad got a new work assignment and he had to leave today, so I had no way to get to Hogwarts later. So, since Ron had already invited me to stay, I accepted."

Ron, Hermione, and Harry came into the shop some time later, when we were about to leave. I wandered off on my own for a little bit, buying parchment and new quills. I also bought different types of ink. I was really going to miss my Muggle pens again this year.

I met up with Fred, George, Lee, Hermione, Ron, and Harry as we made our way to Flourish and Blotts. There were many other people trying to get into the shop. I looked at all the witches, a little amused, a little annoyed, cause there were not many wizards.

There was a banner in the window saying:

GILDEROY LOCKHART will be signing copies of his autobiography MAGICAL ME today 12:30 P.M. to 4:30 P.M.

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist." She smoothed her hair between her hands. It was a battle lost before she started it- her hair was never going to stop being bushy on its own.

I hung back with Fred, George, and Lee, internally groaning. Bloody hell, what a mess this was. I probably wouldn't be able to check the shelves for extra books because the walls would be crowded by witches. Maybe the owner would have some put away specially for me like he sometimes did when he thought I'd like something. Dad and I were his best customers.

We squeezed inside, past the adults. Hermione, Ron, Harry, and I each grabbed the Grade 2 book we needed off the stack by the door. Fred, George, and Lee each got books that they needed for their fourth year.

We went to stand next to the Weasley's and Grangers. I found myself next to Harry and turned to talk to him.

"How was your summer?"

"Could've been better." He said. "Honestly, I would've written back."

I grinned. "Oh I know, Dobby stopped you?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?" He asked in surprise.

"I know a lot of things." I said quickly. "But I actually just overheard you telling Hagrid."

Harry laughed.

At that moment, Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view and seated himself at a long table. There were many portraits of his face, winking and flashing on the table. The real man himself was wearing robes of light blue that matched his eyes. His hair was wavy and he wore a wizard's hat at an angle so not to mess up those waves. I stared at him with a mixture of horror and also giddiness.

He was extremely handsome though, I did have to admit that. I felt my cheeks grow red and I rubbed them, cursing internally. Stupid female hormones.

There was a short man wearing black and brandishing a black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash that emitted a smell of apricots. The reporter stepped backwards onto Ron's foot. "Get out of the way." The photographer snarled. "This is for the Daily Prophet-"

"Big Deal." Ron snarled back, holding his foot and rubbing it.

Lockhart apparently heard their interaction because he looked up at Ron. Then he moved his eyes along our line, eyeing Harry and then me. He leapt to his feet and positively shouted, "It can't be Harry Potter?"

"Oh bloody hell." I muttered as everyone in the store started whispering even more excitedly than they had moments ago when Lockhart had appeared.

The crowd parted as Lockhart walked down the stairs towards us. He grabbed Harry's arm and then, to my surprise, grabbed my arm as well, dragging us both up to the front of the room. I looked back at Fred, panicking. He looked just as surprised as I did.

Lockhart put one arm around each of our shoulders. I didn't smile as the photographer took pictures. "Nice big smile, Harry." Lockhart said through his own teeth. I didn't dare look at him in case the newspaper made my action out to be something other than disgust or confusion. As it was, I was panicking.

He didn't let us go when the pictures were done and I was starting to get strangely uncomfortable. "Ladies and gentlemen." He said loudly and the crowd quieted down. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!

"When young Harry and his sister here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, they only wanted to buy my autobiography- which I shall be happy to present them now, free of charge-" The crowd applauded, but I risked a glance at Harry. He looked at me, looking as confused as I was. The only difference being that my heart was pounding like crazy. Did Lockhart know somehow? I mean, surely not? I looked at the Weasleys. They were looking back and forth between Harry and I. The crowd was whispering. This was a complete nightmare. I should never have come. That seemed to be my signature line.

"They had no idea-" Lockhart continued, not caring about anything else but his little announcement. "that they would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. They and their schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

I groaned out loud but no one could hear me for the explosion of noise that burst in the bookshop. I wanted to die of embarrassment. I found myself being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart, even more books than I needed for school.

I struggled back down to the Weasleys, Harry following me. I handed the books to Fred. "Keep them, I don't want them. Especially since he gave them to me for an incorrect reason."

"So you're not really my sister?" Harry asked behind me, and thankfully he was grinning.

I shook my head, my heart breaking that I couldn't tell him that I was. "I don't know why he thought that, we don't even look alike."

The Weasleys all seemed to accept this, but the others in the shop that had overheard were not as convinced and rumors were spreading. I was sure something was going to make the headlines. Bloody hell.

Harry tipped his books into Ginny's cauldron, telling her she could have his books. He'd buy his own. We went up and bought our books and then waited by Ginny's cauldron. I handed George money so that he could buy his own set. When Lee had his set, we all started to walk towards the back of the shop.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" Said a sneering voice. We looked up to see Draco Malfoy and I tightened my grip on my huge stack of books. "Famous Harry Potter. Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" Ginny said suddenly. I'd never heard her voice before but she had such a sweet voice.

"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" Malfoy drawled, giving Ginny a look over.

"Shut the hell up Malfoy." I snarled.

"Oh Kane." Malfoy said, sneering. "How'd you like being compared to someone as pathetic as Potter?"

"I would be quite proud to be Harry's sister." I said, speaking the truth for once on the subject of our sibling hood.

Ron and Hermione fought their way over, both of them clutching stacks of books.

"Oh, it's you." Ron said, giving Malfoy a disgusted look. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"

For a moment I was confused and then I remembered that they believed Dobby was the House Elf of the Malfoys. Of course, they were right, but I wasn't going to tell them that.

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley." Malfoy retorted, looking a bit confused himself. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."

Ron went as red as Ginny and dropped his books into her cauldron. She nearly dropped the cauldron under the weight of two stacks of Lockhart books. Hermione and Harry reached out and grabbed the back of Ron's shirt as he went to hit Draco.

Fred and George were giving Malfoy an angry look. I touched Fred's hand softly and looked up at him and shook my head. It wasn't worth it. Lee was looking angry too, his arms crossed.

"Ron! Fred! George!" Mr. Weasley said struggling through the crowd to get to the back of the store. I felt my stomach drop, seeing a small glimpse of what was about to happen. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."

Now, I tugged on Fred's arm, trying to get us to leave before. . .

"Well, well, well- Arthur Weasley." A tall man with long blond hair and piercing gray-blue eyes was standing there now. He could almost be called handsome in his own way if he didn't have such a cruel, smirking look on his face. I felt my cheeks grow red again, the way they had when looking at Lockhart. Hm, maybe there was something wrong with me today. But he was quite good-looking. I supposed even bad people could look good.

"Lucius." Mr. Weasley said, nodding coldly.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids. . . I hope they're paying you overtime?"

I gritted my teeth as he reached into Ginny's cauldron and picking out an extremely battered second-hand copy of her Transfiguration book.

"Obviously not." Mr. Malfoy said, his lip curled upwards. Draco stood to the side, smirking. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Fred and George gave a start and I grabbed both of them by the arms. My bag with all my books was cutting into my shoulder. Lee helped me out, restraining them. Mr. Weasley flushed a dark red. Mrs. Weasley, and the Grangers started coming over.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy." Mr. Weasley said under his breath.

"Like you." I piped up, giving him a jaunty smile.

Mr. Malfoy's gaze flicked over to me, and Draco dropped his smile. Fred smiled and relaxed. I no longer felt a reason to restrain him anymore.

Then, Malfoy's eyes flicked over to where Mr. and Mrs. Granger were standing, watching the whole occurrence with Mrs. Weasley, who looked extremely nervous. "Clearly," Mr. Malfoy said, narrowing his eyes at the Grangers. Hermione blushed red and Mrs. Granger took a step back and shot a terrified look at her husband. "The company you keep, Weasley. . .and I thought your family could sink no lower-"

Hermione flushed even darker than the rest of us, and there was a thud as Ginny's cauldron went flying. I ducked to avoid it, Lee quickly pulling me out of the way.

Multiple people were yelling. Fred and George were yelling "Get him Dad!"; Draco was yelling, "Get your filthy hands off of him!"; Mrs. Weasley was shouting "No, Arthur, no!"; The assistant was shouting, "Gentlemen, please- please, the books!"

Then there was a louder voice, not yelling, but louder and much calmer saying, "Break it up, there, gents, break it up-"

Hagrid waded through the crowd and he pulled Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart from each other, holding them each in one hand. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had a bruised eye. He was still holding Ginny's Transfiguration book. He thrusted it back in her cauldron, his eyes glittering with malice and an image flashed in my mind of a little black book.

Without another word, he pulled himself from Hagrid's grip and tried to march out the bookstore with dignity. Well! That wasn't happening. Pulling my wand I quickly whispered, "Offendo." Lucio's Malfoy tripped over his own two feet and fell flat on his face. There was some tittering and laughter from the crowd. Draco looked back and glared at me. I smiled and waved and turned my back on him. I slipped my wand back up my sleeve.

We were leaving now, with the urging of Hagrid. I trailed behind the rest of the group with Lee. Hermione was with her parents, Harry was with Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys were crowded around their parents. Lee and I walked in silence until we were about to part.

"I saw that tripping jinx." Lee said with a smile. "Nice work, I'm going to find a lot of hard spells this year for you to try."

I smiled back, "Thanks Lee. Have a great rest of your vacation."

I waved and hurried to catch up with the rest of the group. We were going to leave through the Leaky Cauldron instead of the Floo station. I went to get my trunk and then met up with the others in Leaky Cauldron.

We said good-bye to the Grangers and Hermione. I decided, as I stepped into the fireplace, that I could wait for Hogwarts to start. Who didn't like a nice vacation?

⬅️➡️

[the-delta-42]

The Black Order Year 2

[First] [Previous] [Next]

The Black Order Year 2

Year Two

Harry enjoyed living with the Diggorys, Mr and Mrs Diggory were nothing like the Dursleys, they included Harry in their conversations at the dinner table with Cedric and his younger siblings, twins, a boy called Robert and a daughter called Pattinson that were due to start at Hogwarts in two years. Harry was allowed to do a lot of things that he hadn’t been allowed to do at Privet Drive, he could even go into the village and visit Ron, provided Cedric went with him to ensure he didn’t get hurt of course, they were with the Weasleys when Dobby first appeared.

Mrs. Diggory arrived shortly after Cedric and the twins subdued the elf, retrieving Harry’s letters from Hermione. After reviving the elf, they started to question him, he revealed his name to be Dobby, before vanishing into thin air. That was the first time he heard Cedric swear.

*/TBO/*

A week later, their book lists arrived. Harry asked who Gilderoy Lockhart was, receiving a mutter that sounded like ‘a pompous hunt’ from Mrs. Diggory. They agree to meet the Weasley’s in Diagon Alley, which later led them to a crowded Flourish and Blotts and, subsequently, the Malfoys. Mr. Diggory had to hold Mr. Weasley back, while a man with auburn hair in black robes stared at them. Mr. Malfoy left shortly after he spotted the man, who just glared at him.

“Who’s that?” Asked Harry, pointing to the man.

Mr. Diggory frowned, “That’s Fabian Prewett, he and his brother were fighting against You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters. Gideon was a good man. Fabien was forced to watch as his brother was, quite literally, torn apart. Fabien was one of the founding members of the Black Order.”

*/TBO/*

Harry and the Diggory’s arrived at Platform 9 ¾ around eight in the morning, Amos helping both Harry and Cedric get their belongings onto the train.

“You are welcome to spend Christmas with us Harry.” Said Mr. Diggory, as he helped Harry with his trunk, “We’d more than happily have you.”

“If it’s alright, Mr. Diggory,” Said Harry, as Hedwig nipped at his fingers, “I like spending time at Hogwarts. It was the first place I got to call home.”

Mr. Diggory’s smile fell a bit, “Harry, Dumbledore told me about your time with your aunt and uncle. No one should ever be exposed to something like that. I know that you’ll have trouble taking me at my word, but I can promise that we’ll never harm you in anyway.”

Harry looked down, trying to fight the burn in his eyes. He felt Mr. Diggory pull him close and hold him as he cried.

Nearing eleven, Harry parted with Mr. Diggory and met up the Weasley’s, stuttering slightly when he spoke to Ginny.

‘There’s nothing to worry about, it’s only Ron’s sister. She’s probably scared and confused, this is her first time going to Hogwarts. Maybe I should ask if she’d like to spend the ride with us.’ Thought Harry, unsure what the fluttering feeling in his stomach was. Both Cedric and Mrs. Diggory had teased Harry about Ginny’s crush on him and Harry’s insistence on including Ginny in their activities, even letting Ginny have a go on his broom.

“Join us.” Harry blurted out, before going red, “I-I mean, would you like to spend the train ride with us?”

Ginny went red as well, “O-okay.”

*/TBO/*

Harry cheered as Ginny was sorted into Gryffindor. Professor McGonagall rolled up the parchment and picked up the stool and the Sorting Hat and took them out of the great hall. Harry winced slightly as many of the girls squealed when Lockhart was announced at the Defence Against the Dark Arts.

“It’s almost a shame,” Said Fred, rubbing his ears, “They say that the jobs cursed.”

“Yeah, real pity that he’ll probably be dead by the end of the year.” Agreed George, before grinning, “Just imagine, dying in Hogwarts. That’s got to be the bast way to go.”

Harry didn’t like the cold feeling that came down his spine.

*/TBO/*

Three weeks into term, a large, grey owl dropped a package in front of Malfoy. Harry didn’t pay any attention, choosing to speak to Ginny, until there were screams from Slytherin table. Everyone quickly turned to look at the source of the disturbance.

Lucius Malfoy’s head hung in the air, with a message hanging beneath it.

No crime goes unpunished, and the fathers passes to the son.

You will die last.

Again, like last year, classes were cancelled. There were mutters from around the school, one Sixth Year said no one would mourn Mr. Malfoy’s death. No one, not even Percy, tried to contradict him.

*/TBO/*

Hallowe’en came and Harry found himself leaving Nearly-Headless Nick’s death day party and dropping onto the bench of Gryffindor table.

“Where were you, Harry?” Asked Percy, as Hermione and Ron finally caught up with him.

“Wasting nearly an hour of my life that I’ll never get back.” Groaned Harry, before dropping his head onto the table, “Ow.”

Harry ate his fill and followed his fellow Gryffindors up to the tower.

“That’s a lot of water.” Said Seamus, slightly rousing Harry.

“Myrtle’s probably throwing a tantrum again.” Responded Percy, as Neville slipped in the water, “Watch your feet everyone.”

They’d just gotten to the portrait hole, when everyone heard a scream from a few floors down. Percy said the password and ushered everyone into the common room. Harry wasn’t ashamed to admit that he’d fallen asleep in his school robes as soon as he made it to his bed.

*/TBO/*

The morning after Hallowe’en, Harry found out that someone had cursed Mr. Filch’s cat, Mrs. Norris.

Then there was the Quidditch incident a few days later, where a bludger had been enchanted to attack Harry and Harry alone, resulting in Harry getting a broken arm. Which didn’t last long, as Lockhart vanished the bones in Harry’s arm. Harry was happy to see Mrs. Diggory hex Lockhart. That night, Dobby reappeared and told Harry that he’d enchanted the bludger. Then Colin was brought into the Hospital Wing. Petrified, just like Mrs. Norris.

Which led to the creation of a duelling club in the third week of December, and then onto the revelation that Harry was a Parselmouth. Cedric had already pulled seven of his housemates up because they were spreading rumours that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin.

“The Potter Bloodline can be traced back to Godric Gryffindor.” Said Cedric, as Ernie and Zacharias stared at the ground, “The only way Harry could be the Heir of Slytherin is by right of Conquest. Much like the Stevens-Carrow incident.”

No one saw a man with short auburn hair listening to them talk.

TBO

Harry frowned at the boy sitting across from him. It was the same boy who explained what the Black Order was to Harry on the train last year. He didn’t seem to realise Harry was across from him. He tugged the glove off his left hand, revealing a silver prosthetic hand that looked like a skeleton’s hand.

“The surface layer’s invisible.” Said the Boy, not looking up, “A case of accidental magic made it so.”

“I’m sorry?” Responded Harry, getting a snort from the boy.

“Why? Did you cut my arm off?” He looked at Harry, before frowning, “Has anyone looked at that?”

Harry instinctively flattened his fringe to cover his scar, making the boy roll his eyes.

“That’s really going to help with it.” Snarked the boy, getting a frown from Harry.

“Who are you?” Asked Harry, getting a look from the boy, “I don’t remember seeing you at the sorting ceremony.”

“Because I started last year,” Explained the boy, “had a fit just after I got off the train, spent most of last year in St. Mungo’s. I think the teachers were surprised that I passed the first year tests.”

“I still don’t know who you are.” Said Harry, getting a scowl from the boy.

“Mercutio Stevens, although, I’d prefer to be called ‘Bones’, in reference to my hand.” Said Stevens, getting a disbelieving snort from Harry.

“There you are, Harry,” Said Hermione, drawing close to the table, “I think I’ve finally found it and, who’s this?”

“Mercutio Stevens, prefers to be called Bones.” Said Harry, getting a dejected sigh from Stevens.

“Oh, you’re that boy that was sorted in Professor Dumbledore’s Office, I heard Percy call you a Hat Stall.” Said Ron, suddenly appearing beside Hermione.

“Yes, the bloody hat took over an hour to sort me, what of it?”

“Why did it take so long?” Asked Harry, getting a frown from Stevens.

“Why should I tell you?”

“Sorry, I was just curious.” Mumbled Harry, getting a grimace from Stevens.

There was a moment of silence, before Stevens broke it, “The ratty bastard wanted to put me in Slytherin.”

Harry felt his jaw drop open, while Hermione let out a squeak and Ron snorted.

“Ten points for foul language, Mr. Stevens.” Snapped Professor McGonagall, making the trio jumps, “And another five for insulting an object of historical importance to Hogwarts.”

“Sorry.” Muttered Stevens, scowling.

“Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Potter, this is your new housemate, Mercutio Stevens.” McGonagall introduced, looking at each student, “He-”

“Was supposed to start last year, but had a fit and was stuck in St… where was it?” Asked Harry, looking at Stevens.

“Mungo’s.”

“Mungo’s.” Finished Harry, looking up at McGonagall, “He’s already introduced himself.”

“Oh,” Said McGonagall, “then five points for attempting to save a staff member time.”

Stevens shrugged and attempted to bury himself back in his book.

���Given how you three like to explore the castle, I was hoping you could show him around.” Said Professor McGonagall, getting quick nods from the trio.

TBO

Stevens trailed behind the trio, looking at the different tapestries and portraits, when Fred and George accosted Harry.

“Look out everyone, serious dark wizard coming through.” Said one.

“Yeah, the heir of Slytherin is off to the chamber of secrets to have tea with his vicious monster.” Said the other.

Stevens looked between them, unsure if he was seeing double, “They’re Ron’s brothers.”

“Right.” Stevens still looked unsure, before looking at Harry, “Where are we?”

“We’re just about to pass the dancing trolls on the seventh floor.” Said Harry, ignoring Hermione trying to tell Fred and George off.

“Okay.” Said Stevens, looking around, “Why didn’t they make a map?”

TBO

Harry was quietly talking with Ginny, introducing her to Stevens, who’d shown her his prosthetic, when a woman with blonde hair stalked into the Great Hall. Everyone fell silent, as the woman stopped in front of Dumbledore and dropped a book in front of him.

Without saying a word, the woman spun on her heel and left. Dumbledore opened the book with his wand and his face hardened, before cancelling classes for the day. Later, Professor McGonagall collected Harry and the Weasleys and took them to Dumbledore’s office.

The book was lying open on the desk, with Dumbledore frowning at it.

“Miss Weasley,” Said Dumbledore, not looking up, “I’ve been informed that you were given this diary before the start of term, who gave it to you?”

“M-my mum, I think.” Squeaked Ginny, trembling slightly, “I found it in my cauldron with my books.”

Dumbledore sighed, “Oh, to be young and trusting again.”

Looking at them, “Miss Weasley, your mother didn’t give you this book. It’s a very dark and dangerous artifact that, if used, will possess the one using it.”

Ginny started trembling, prompting Harry to grab her hand.

“What is it, Professor?” Said Percy, stiffly.

“Something that belonged to Lord Voldemort.” Said Dumbledore, “No doubt slipped amongst your sister’s books as not to arouse any suspicion. It’s very easy to convince an adult witch or wizard that they bought something if it is slipped amongst items they’ve purchased. Even more so, if said witch or wizard are in Hogwarts.”

“W-will Ginny be alright?” Asked Harry, getting Dumbledore’s attention.

“Mind healers and some member of the Ministry will be checking in on her for the remainder of the school year.” Dumbledore told them, “I believe that once this item has been removed from the castle, we’ll have nothing to worry about. Professor McGonagall, if you could escort the Weasleys back to Gryffindor Tower, while I speak with Harry.”

Professor McGonagall gave a curt nod, before herding the Weasleys out, leaving Harry with the headmaster.

“Harry,” Began Dumbledore, “while I am aware that Miss Weasley was given the diary, it was found amongst your belongings.”

Harry swallowed and looked down.

“Harry.” Said Dumbledore, firmly, “You’re not in trouble, as a matter of fact, some of the Ministry workers will be examining your scar. I’ve been told that your scar has hurt when you’ve been near Voldemort.”

Harry nodded, prompting Dumbledore to continue, “Now, I’m aware of the rumours surrounding your unexpected ability. For that, I must apologise, I have had the theory that when Voldemort tried to kill you, some of his powers were, somehow, transferred over to you.”

Harry frowned, mulling the information over in his head. Could Voldemort somehow be responsible for how he can speak parseltongue? Harry decided not to voice that question, instead looking up at the headmaster.

“Professor?” Asked Harry, almost shyly, “If I may, what is that diary?”

Dumbledore frowned, “I’m not entirely sure, but it’s nothing for you to worry about.”

The arrival of Professor McGonagall prevented Harry from asking anymore questions, but he had the feeling that Dumbledore wasn’t being entirely honest.

TBO

The new year was welcomed by two events, the first was Mrs Malfoy arriving at the school with a bleeding gash on the side of her neck and the other was the unexpected death of Professor Lockhart.

No one knew how he died, but shortly after each of his books were revealed to be fabricated events where each of his accomplishments were revealed to be done by other people.

Or, as Fred and George liked to put it, he was exposed to be a big effing fraud.

Harry found that they didn’t mean it as a capital F, but Cedric didn’t answer him when he asked what they actually meant.

On the second week of January, Harry found himself in the hospital wing, with a tall, scowling man closely examining his scar.

“Did you hear what the Toad’s done?” Asked one of his colleagues, going over some notes in a corner.

“What’s she done?” Muttered the man, carefully twisting Harry’s head to the side.

“She’s only gone and made things difficult for werewolves.” Said his colleague, leaning against the wall, “It now nearly impossible for them to get work, I don’t care what all those bigwigs in the Wizengamot say, if they can perform magic well and their employer can afford the cost of wolfsbane potion, I don’t have a problem.”

“But you wouldn’t want a family member to marry one.” Muttered the man, getting the woman to frown.

“I heard that.”

“Well,” Said the man, stepping away from Harry, “it’s definitely cursed, but I’m going to get Croaker to take a look at it.”

“Think it might be like that diary?” Asked the woman, frowning.

“I don’t know.” Confessed the man, “I’ve never heard of one of those things being attached to a living being.”

“It’s probably nothing to worry about.” The woman said to Harry, handing him a lollypop, “You’re free to go.”

Before he knew it, Harry found himself outside of the hospital wing. Shrugging himself, Harry made his way back to Gryffindor Tower, bumping into Ginny on the way.

Ever since the diary was taken, Ginny no longer looked pale and skittish, Harry found that she was fun to be around, although he didn’t understand the looks, he got from Cedric whenever he saw them together. All the petrification’s seemed to have stopped, until Harry and Ginny were nearly bowled over by Percy rushing past them.

“Why’s he is a hurry?” Asked Harry, getting a frown from Ginny.

“He might be late to meet his girlfriend.” Said Ginny, before she clapped her hand over her mouth, “S-sorry! He doesn’t have a girlfriend! I-I mean, why would he? He’s Percy-”

“What’s wrong with Percy having a girlfriend?” Asked Harry, frowning at Ginny.

Ginny’s eyes widened, before looking around. After making sure there was no one around, Ginny spoke, “Okay, he has a girlfriend. Some Ravenclaw prefect. I stumbled across them before Christmas and Percy made me promise not to tell anyone.”

Harry blinked, “Well…, that’s a lot to process.”

Ginny pulled out her wand and prodded Harry in the chest, “I mean it. No one can know.”

Harry swallowed, “Okay, I’m not going to say anything.”

“Good.” Said Ginny, brightly putting her wand away.

The pair walked back to Gryffindor tower, the common room going silent when they entered.

Harry looked around, “Is everything alright?”

“You haven’t heard?” Asked Hermione, getting Harry’s attention.

“Heard what?”

“There’s been another attack.” Said Fred, glancing around, “A Ravenclaw prefect was attacked.”

Harry frowned, “I didn’t hear them bring them to the Hospital Wing, but that might be because I was having someone jabbing their wand into my scar.”

“Do you think that might be why Professor McGonagall left during our study session early?” Asked Ginny, making Hermione go red.

“Ginny,” Scolded Hermione, “your studies are important-”

“And I shouldn’t skive off.” Interrupted Ginny, scowling, “I wasn’t the first one to leave and I didn’t go until Snape came a turfed everyone out of the library.”

That got everyone’s attention.

“Snape turfed everyone out of the library?” Asked Angelina, “As in go to your common rooms?”

“No, he just told us to get out.” Answered Ginny, glancing at the clock, “If we’re supposed to be here, what do we do if we have detention?”

Fred and George broke out in identical grins.

“Aw, Fred-”

“-George-”

“-Ickle Ginnykins-”

“-Has a detention-”

“-I’m so proud-”

“-It’s almost heartbreaking.”

“What’d you do?” The two asked together, making Ginny blush.

“I, erm, I was caught, sneaking brooms out of storage shed attached to the Quidditch Pitch.” Said Ginny, making everyone freeze.

“Who’s brooms?”

“I…don’t…know?”

“Who’s brooms, Ginny?”

“Wait,” Said Alicia, interrupting the twins’ interrogation, “were you the one who put my broom in upside down?”

Ginny went red.

“How’d you get into the shed?” Asked Katie, as Ginny’s face got darker.

“I…, uhm, I picked the lock.”

“Where’d you learn to pick locks?” Asked Hermione, frowning.

Ginny scratched the back of her head and avoided eye contact with her brothers. The silence continued, before the penny dropped and Angelina, Alicia and Katie burst into laughter.

“Wait, have you been breaking into the broom shed?” Demanded Ron, jumping to his feet, “Why would you do that? You know it’s not safe!”

“So why can you use a broom?” Demanded Ginny, glaring at Ron, “I’ve managed to fly and not harm myself. I know you can’t say the same!”

“That’s not the point!” Said Ron, his voice rising, “You shouldn’t-”

Ginny pulled out her wand and pointed it at Ron, “Verpertilio Muci!”

A dull green jet of light hit Ron and the next thing everyone knew; Ron had several bat-shaped bogeys flying around him and slamming into his head. Fred and George roared with laughter as Ron tried to fight the bats off.

“Finite.” Came Professor McGonagall’s voice, “Miss Weasley, if you could refrain from attacking your brother. Now, are all Gryffindors in the tower?”

“Yes, Professor.” Said a Prefect, after checking the dormitories.

“Good, it has been decided, by both the Headmaster and the Ministry, that any extracurricular activities, such as gobstones and chess, are suspended.” Announced Professor McGonagall, getting a horrified gasp from Oliver.

“Please, Professor, tell me that doesn’t include Quidditch.”

Professor McGonagall slowly turned her head to fix Oliver with a cold-eyed glare, “That includes Quidditch, Wood. A sport isn’t more important than the safety of the student body!”

TBO

Harry looked around the Hospital Wing, he’d been brought out of Potions by an Unspeakable, someone who worked in the Ministry. They didn’t say anything to him, they just guided him to a bed and left him there.

Someone coming in through the door jerk Harry out of his thoughts, a man with dark eyes and white hair walked up to him.

“This is going to hurt.” He said, before he jammed his wand into Harry’s scar, twisted it and pulled back. A black, blood-like substance was attached to the end of the wand, before the man directed it into a teacup.

The man left without another word, as Harry passed out from the blinding pain of the procedure.

TBO

Harry woke up to someone being rushed into the Hospital Wing, sitting up, he caught sight of familiar bushy hair, before Professor McGonagall spotted him.

“Potter,-” Professor McGonagall was cut off by Dumbledore, “Professor Flitwick, could you please take Harry back to his common room?”

The charms professor nodded and quickly guided Harry back to Gryffindor tower, Percy quickly brought Harry over the grouping of Weasleys.

“Hermione said she had to go to the library.” Said Ron, quietly, “She even ignored Percy when he told her to come back.”

“What was she going to do?” Asked Harry, confused.

“I think she was trying to find out what Slytherin’s monster was,” Said Ron, glancing around, “I don’t know why she thought about going to the library again now. She couldn’t find anything there before Christmas or after we asked Malfoy.”

Harry thought back to the Christmas before, he, Ron and Hermione, after they were caught by Professor McGonagall trying to brew Polyjuice Potion. She had vanished the nearly completed potion and assigned them detention, with Malfoy joining them after she caught him defacing school property.

That unexpected misfortune had allowed them to corner Malfoy and grill answers out of him. Ever since his father’s head appeared in the mail, Malfoy had been withdrawn and sullen, it was almost as if he’d been avoiding them, and it was only reinforced when his mother had turned up with a gash on her neck.

Ron looked at Harry and frowned, “What happened to your scar?”

“What?” Asked Harry, as Percy looked at Ron.

“Ron, you’ve been told-what the hell?” Gasped Percy, “Your scar’s faded.”

“What?” Said Harry, as Percy conjured a mirror and gave it to Harry.

The bright red lightning bolt scar was now a faded pink, not as recognisable as it once had been. Harry looked at Ron and shrugged, he turned and looked at the fireplace and watched the fire with a frown.

TBO

Hermione was found petrified outside of the library. Teachers started escorting them between classes, after Lockhart had died a temporary teacher had been called in. He just told everyone to call him Aberforth, outright refusing to tell anyone his surname, and since Aberforth was at the head of the line, Ron and Harry were able to slip away from their class.

“Are you sure Bones will cover for us?” Asked Ron, unaware of the boy setting off a cluster of dungbombs outside of Potions.

“I’m sure.” Said Harry, as they rounded a corner and nearly bumped into the woman who gave Dumbledore the diary.

The woman’s breath hitched when she saw Harry, before she hastily cleared her throat, “Why aren’t you with your class?”

“We’re going to see Hermione.” Blurted Ron, making Harry jump.

The woman silently studied them, before pushing a piece of the wall, revealing a secret passage, “This’ll take you to the corridor adjacent to the Hospital Wing. You’ll have to be careful, though, Peeves likes to put bear traps down there.”

Harry and Ron quickly looked at each other, before they hurried down the passageway.

TBO

Harry and Ron stumbled into the Staff Room, unintentionally bumping into the woman, Fabian Prewett, a man with short auburn hair and Regulus Black.

The children and adults stared at each other, before Regulus spoke, “Shall we just pretend we didn’t see each other?”

The woman harshly elbowed him, “Harry, what are you doing here?”

Harry swallowed, glancing at Ron, before looking at the woman, unsure how he was going to explain that he and Ron went to visit Hagrid, who took them to speak with Arogog, where they found out about the creature, which was a Basilisk, thanks to Hermione, and they were trying to tell their teachers.

Before Harry could say anything, the woman groaned and looked at Regulus, “Did you know about the Basilisk or were you in the dark as well?”

Just then, the staff room door opened, admitting the staff members into the staff room. Snape froze at the sight of Harry, Ron and the four members of the Black Order. He paled, before drawing his wand, a split second later, Harry had a large gash across his face and Snape received an explosion charm to the face.

The woman immediately rushed to Harry’s side and started healing the gash, while Fabien and the auburn haired man immobilised Snape.

“You couldn’t’ve disarmed him?!” Demanded the woman, as the gash on Harry’s face healed into a faint, thin scar.

“I tried, who do you think that curse hit him in the face and not the neck?” Retorted Regulus, just as Dumbledore cleared his throat.

“Marlene, Edgar, it’s so nice to see you again after all this time.” Greeted Dumbledore, before he looked at Fabien and Regulus, “Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were your handiwork, I take it?”

“No,” Grunted Fabien, “that wasn’t us, at least Narcissa wasn’t. Greyback got her, full moon and all.”

“Ah.” Sighed Dumbledore, “And Lucius?”

“He owed the Goblins, we found out and took two Puffskeins with one curse.” Dismissed Regulus, “They’ve agreed to his head in exchange for the sword.”

Dumbledore hummed, before looking at Harry and Ron, “Why, may I ask, are you two here?”

Without wasting a moment, Harry said, “We know where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is.”

TBO

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect to find myself going down a bathroom drain when I woke up today.” Said Professor Sinistra, as Dumbledore led them down the tunnel.

He and the members of the Black Order were surprised when Harry spoke Parseltongue and opened the sink.

“Are we really bringing a couple of second years with us to fight a Basilisk?” Asked Professor Flitwick, glancing at Harry and Ron.

“If we left them behind, they’d just follow us, Filius,” Responded Dumbledore, before glancing at Harry, “besides, Harry has a rather unique skill we all seem to lack.”

Flitwick frowned, but remained silent, silently noting that number to stone knight statues along the walls.

The group of eleven stopped at a metal door with several snakes acting as locks.

Dumbledore gently ushered Harry forwards, prompting the boy to say, “Open.”

The snakes slid back and door swung open, revealing an unconscious, “Ginny!” Gasped Harry, rushing forwards and dropping his wand. Almost immediately, black and blue flames burst into life, preventing the teachers from catching up to Harry.

“Piertotum Locomotor!” came a young, smooth voice, making the stone knights behind the teachers jump into life.

“Depulso!” Said Flitwick, sending a knight flying backwards.

“Slugulus Eructo!” Yelled Ron, just as a knight grabbed his wand and crushed it. The knight raised it’s mace and prepared to swing it down onto Ron’s head.

“Reducto!” Dumbledore reduced the statue to a pile of dust, just as Fawkes arrived and gave Harry the Sorting Hat.

Professor McGonagall and Flitwick dealt with a pair of giant statues, while the Black Order started using fire spells on a group of Inferi, the emaciated corpse of a young Ravenclaw student at the lead.

Ron glanced at Aberforth and Professor Sinistra dealt with the smaller statues, and Professor Dumbledore combated the black and blue flames, while Harry and Fawkes fought Slytherin’s Basilisk.

Several things then happened at once, Harry stabbed the snake through the mouth, the Professors defeated the last of the statues, the Black Order burned the Inferi and Dumbledore dispelled the flames keeping them from Harry.

“Stop this, Tom.” Said Dumbledore, his piercing eyes fixed on the Slytherin boy holding Harry’s wand.

“Why, Dumbledore?” Sneered Tom, gesturing to Harry, “My beast has poisoned the boy that defeated Lord Voldemort, look at him, Dumbledore. Watch as the last of his life fades away.”

Tom cackled, “Look at your stupid bird! It’s crying!”

Tom laughed, his voice high and cold, before he froze, “NO! STOP THAT!”

Tom fired a blasting curse at Fawkes, who flew away.

Dumbledore gestured for the others to stay behind him.

“Of course,” Growled Tom, “Phoenix tears heal. Never the matter, you’ll all be dead soon enough.”

Fawkes then dropped the diary in Harry’s lap.

Unprompted, Harry grabbed the Basilisk fang that had been stuck in his arm and drove the fang into the diary. Tom and the diary screamed and, almost instantly, Tom burst into nothing. A few feet away, Ginny Weasley gasped as she started breathing again.

Dumbledore quickly gathered everyone and, upon grasping Fawkes’ tail feathers, the group suddenly found themselves in the staff room, with the Weasleys and Diggorys waiting for them.

After conjuring some chairs and getting some food from the kitchens, Dumbledore sat down and frowned at the remains of the diary.

“I believe an apology is in order,” Began Dumbledore, looking around the room, “It didn’t occur to me that this diary had gained enough strength to drain the life out of an elderly ministry worker and make it’s way back to Hogwarts.”

“You said it belonged to Voldemort.” Said Harry, quietly, “Does this mean he’s back?”

“No.” Said Dumbledore, frowning, “At present, I believe Lord Voldemort is currently residing in Albania as a wraith, unable to harm anyone. This is, what I believe, one of the things anchoring him to life. As I said, the elderly ministry worker he killed was enough for him to get to Hogwarts, but not enough for him to get to Lord Voldemort.”

“That’s why he took Ginny.” Said Percy, as the girl cried into her mother’s shoulder.

“Yes and no.” Said Dumbledore, making everyone look at him, “I believe he came here to, ahem, ‘take’ more than Miss Weasley. Mr Potter also wrote in this book, so I believe he was also a target for the diary. It seems, Tom intended on unleashing the basilisk on the inhabitants of the castle in an attempt to empower himself enough to not only make it to Albania, but to also restore the, rather pathetic, remains of Lord Voldemort.”

“B-but that’s been avoided?” Asked Mrs Diggory, an arm wrapped around Harry’s shoulders.

“For the time being.” Admitted Dumbledore, “While Voldemort is powerless at present, I fear it won’t be long before he manages to find a way to restore himself.”

Dumbledore looked at the clock, “Oh, will you look at the time! Perhaps the children would like to take themselves to their dormitories and get some well-deserved rest.”

TBO

The next few days were a blur for Harry, he and Ginny were taken to a wizard hospital, Ginny explained what little knowledge she had of St. Mungos. The pair had been examined, before being discharged with a clean bill of health.

When they got back to Hogwarts, all the students that had been petrified were back up and walking. Justin Finch-Fletchley had all but taken Harry’s arm off form shaking his hand so hard. Ginny looked around with a worried look on her face.

“Who’re you looking for?” Asked Harry, following her gaze.

“I can’t see Percy’s girlfriend.” Whispered Ginny, “Do you think she’s alright?”

Harry shrugged, before Percy called him and Ginny over to Gryffindor Table.

“Percy, where’s Poppy?” Asked Ginny, getting a grimace from Percy.

“Penelope didn’t,” Percy cleared his throat, “didn’t respond to the mandrake treatment, they don’t know if there’s anything they can do here.”

Ginny put her hand over her mouth, “Professor Dumbledore’s asked the Healers to attempt Legilimency on her.” Continued Percy, while Harry looked at Ron and Ginny hoping for an explanation.

“We’re just going to have to wait for more news.” Finished Percy, staring down at his plate, “How could the Ministry allow that thing to escape?!”

Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys looked at each other, they’d never seen Percy so upset.

TBO

“He attempted to kill Harry, how can you defend him?!” Demanded Mrs Diggory, glaring at Dumbledore.

“That boy was in league with them!” Shrieked Snape, “He’s working with them to kill me!”

“Considering you’re the reason his parents are dead, I wouldn’t blame him if he was!” Snapped Marlene, from her place in the corner.

“That boy is just like his father!” Bellowed Snape, “Arrogant, spoilt, expecting everything to be handed to him on a silver platter! The Dark Lord should have killed him instead of Lily-”

“PROFESSOR SNAPE!” Bellowed Dumbledore, silencing everyone, “Do not act as if you are irreplaceable! You are at Hogwarts because I believe you were an asset to both the school and the wizarding world as a whole. You attempt on Harry Potter’s life has not escaped my notice, nor has it escaped the Ministry’s.”

Snape started to pale.

“So, unless you wish to find yourself in Azkaban, I suggest you pull your act together and act like a teacher and not an adolescent schoolboy!” Dumbledore’s voice was cold, as Snape looked faint.

“Why is he at the school?” Asked Marlene, frowning at Snape.

“Hogwarts,” Said Dumbledore, not take his eyes of Snape, “is serving as his prison. As everyone is aware, the school is used with the hope of rehabilitating any and all non-violent offenders, provided they have skills that can be put to use at Hogwarts.”

“Is he behind the attacks on Harry?” Demanded Mrs Diggory, getting Dumbledore’s attention.

“No,” Said Dumbledore, “That was the work of a House Elf by the name of Dobby. Ironically, Harry somehow managed to get the Malfoy’s to free Dobby and, at present, currently employed at Hogwarts.”

Mrs Diggory sighed through her nose and glared at Dumbledore, “Make sure that elf doesn’t do anything to harm Harry, Headmaster.”

With that final word, Elenor Diggory spun on her heel and stalked out of the room.

TBO

“Cedric?” Said Harry, looking up from his book, “What happened to that prefect Percy knew?”

Cedric paused in his game of exploding snap with Fred and George, “You mean his girlfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“I heard that she’s become a permanent resident of the Janus Thickey Ward in St. Mungos.” Shrugged Cedric, “Mum and Dad didn’t say much about it.”

Harry hummed, glancing at Ginny, before going back to his book. Ginny’s wand was found to be unusable after the events of the chamber, the wand was lined with cracks and the core was ‘burnt out’, whatever that meant.

Harry had asked about getting another wand, admitting how Riddle had gotten his wand after he dropped it. Mr. Diggory had said he’d talk to Mr. Ollivander about it, but didn’t say much else.

“Oh,” Said Harry, suddenly remembering, “Cedric, what are the great houses?”

[fantasywriter19]

1. Melody Riddle and the Sorcerer's Stone Ch.4 Birthday Surprise at Midnight

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.

I blearily opened my eyes, wondering just what I was being woken up for. I had been at the school for a few weeks and, finally, got rid of my jet lag. Of course, it didn’t change the fact that I’ve always hated waking up early. From how bleary my eyes were, it had to still be early in the morning.

“Who is it?” I called, snuggling deeper into my wool blankets.

“Professor Higginbottom,” a voice, forcefully high-pitched, responded.

I softly groaned to myself as I sat up, pushing my feet into the soft slippers with a yawn. Mom said to respect the teachers, so I better come to the door. “I’m coming, hold on a sec.” I shuffled over to the door and opened it.

An explosion of color and sparkling woke me up the rest of the way, causing me to jump back and rub my eyes so I could see clearly what just happened. As I opened them again, there were the twins with party hats on their heads and their wands held up still spouting sparks and confetti.

“Happy birthday!!” they cheered.

I blinked at them in disbelief. Not only had I not even told them about my birthday being May thirty first, but I was also irritated that I had shown any type of surprise. I hadn’t shown private emotions to anyone but my parents since preschool. In response, I kept my voice flat as I asked, “How did you know? I never told you..”

“Dumbledore told us,” they said giddily.

“Now get some adventuring clothes on. You’re going to explore the castle with us!” George said.

I’d finally figured out how to tell which twin was who. Despite being perfectly similar twins, I could sense who was who by their energy. Fred was more in charge while George generally followed along — not that it was all that easy, because their personalities almost exactly matched each other.

Fred added, “And hurry up before Snape comes. You have no idea how many times he patrols past your door.”

I narrowed my eyes, “What time even is it?”

“Midnight,” they replied eagerly.

“I’m going back to sleep,” I attempted to close the door in their faces, but Fred stuck his foot in.

“You’re turning down a personal tour of the school where no students, classes or teachers can get in the way?” George asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ve already shown me enough of the school. Which, might I say again, the library is still my favorite.”

“Not the secret passages,” Fred said, waggling his eyebrows.

“What, you mean there are secret secret passages?” I asked dubiously.

“Of course! It’s a castle!” George said.

I sighed. Sleep.. or explore possibly thousand year old secret passages…. Historical secret passages obviously win my vote. “I’ll just be a minute.”

⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛   ⚯͛

After making sure we left a line of pillows in my bed — that the twins so generously brought to make it seem like I was still asleep — they took me as far away from the dungeons as possible before Professor Snape could return.

Fred then pulled out a worn old sheet of blank parchment paper and his wand. “Can you guess what this is?”

“A treasure map in invisible ink?” I guessed half-heartedly.

The twins chuckled, “Close enough.”

He gently touched the tip of his wand to the paper and recited, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Lines appeared and spread out along the page in different directions, forming a map of the whole school. At the top of the page came the words ‘Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present THE MARAUDER’S MAP.’ As I stared at the map, I could see very clearly where we were standing by the three dots next to each other labeled with our names; ‘George Weasley,’ ‘Fred Weasley,’ and ‘Melody Riddle.’

At the same time that I was in awe of all the possibilities there could be for magic, I also felt a pang of disappointment. I had to realize that ‘Melody Gray’ really must be officially gone if my last name was automatically ‘Riddle’ on this map. Or maybe my name had never even been ‘Gray.’ I put the thought away as quickly as it had come.

“How do you have this map?” I asked. “Wouldn’t this be something the headmaster would have?”

“That’s the beauty of it —” Fred said.

“— this must be the only map in existence.” George said.

“Last year, we let off a Dungbomb in the corridor —”

“ — and it upset Filch for some reason —”

“ — and after he hauled us off to his office and gave the usual threats —”

“ — we just couldn’t help but notice a drawer in one of his filing cabinets.”

“It said: ‘Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.’”

“Fred dropped a dungbomb —”

“ — and George grabbed the first thing he laid his hands on.”

I could only listen to the story with barely held back laughter as I had to continue moving my head back and forth between the two of them. “Do you always tell stories in parts like this?”

“‘Course,” they replied with a unified shrug.

“Should’ve seen that answer coming. Well, I can assume a Dungbomb must be some kind of stink bomb, but who’s Filch?”

“Filch is the caretaker,” Fred said.

“The caretaker?” I asked, aghast. “There is only one caretaker in this whole castle?”

This was where they looked around and began whispering. “Oh yeah, and you know the catch —?”

“— he’s a squib.”

“So…” I thought about everything mom had said before I left. “He was born to a magical family, but has no magic?”

“Bingo!” they said.

“But how’s that fair?”

They stared at me in surprise, “What?”

“He’s supposed to clean this whole castle, every nook and cranny, by himself? With no magic, whatsoever? That’s not fair!”

“Well — I mean..”

“It’s not like he’s nice! He’s evil!”

“And I can see why! I’d be mean, too, if I have to clean up after magical incidents everyday like a normal person. All alone with a whole castle to travel through.”

They merely laughed and linked their arms through mine.

“You’re funny, Melody, really —”

“— however, we have very little time for dilly-dallying. We want to at least show you one secret passage.”

“But —” I attempted to push my argument through. It just seemed to me that if I was going to have a fresh new start with friends that I was most definitely required to give my opinion.

However, Fred’s hand slapped over my mouth and I was dragged into the deepest shadows of the hallway. I wriggled and tried to yell at him, but he tightened his grip on me as he hissed, “Shhh.”

A cat meowed in the distance.

“~ Come my sweet… we’ll catch them… lead the way…. ~”

The voice chilled my bones as I thought about how it would look to mom if I’d been caught out of bed with some boys before school even starts for me. I stood still long enough that Fred’s grip slackened.

Thankfully, whoever it was hadn’t even gone right past us. The voice had sounded off from a different hallway, but we trepidly watched their silhouettes walk past the entryway. We waited a few minutes before we felt like we could breathe normally, then I followed them in silence.

We reached a statue of a one eyed witch with a hump on her back, and we went around behind her. George tapped the hump with his wand, uttering the word, “Dissendium.”

The hump snapped open to a size big enough that we would only be able to fit through one at a time. As I peeked in, it seemed to be a considerable length of tunnel pointing downwards… we were going to have to slide.

“Alright, Melody,” Fred said with a grin. “I’ll go first, then you count to ten before following. George will be right behind you.”

I shrugged as he hopped right in with a soft “Whoo…”

As I counted to ten, I shook my head. Just my luck for goofballs to enjoy hanging out with me. But, I reasoned as I eased myself into the hole, it’s not like I could find anyone goofier than they are in my own age group. I let myself slide through, feeling cool wind whipping my hair around as I went down, down, down until I landed on wet, soft earth.

Light was emanating from Fred’s wand so, in the surrounding pitch darkness, I saw his hand held out to help me up. When I took it we moved out of the way as we heard George’s “Whoo…” coming down the slide.

We were in a narrow, low ceiling passageway where, once we started moving with the twins cracking jokes along the way, it winded this way and that as we walked. It was too easy to trip, and hard to keep enough balance not to fall all the way to the floor — even with the light from both of their wands. Concerning the pain in my legs, plus the passage beginning to rise up, I knew we must have been walking for quite a while though it seemed that no time had passed at all with those two keeping me company.

A short time later, we came up to another long set of stone steps about as long as the slide had been — though it obviously took twice the time.  When we finally made it to the top, Fred had pushed open the trapdoor above us and we made our way out into a cellar room full of boxes and crates.

I took a deep breath and whispered, “I never thought I’d appreciate air aboveground as much as I do now.”

“Everybody’s a critic,” George whispered back.

Fred replaced the trapdoor, which blended in to the floor so well that it was no longer a surprise how this wouldn’t have been found out… wherever this place was. He then walked over to the wooden staircase leading up to a door, “Prepare to be amazed.”

“By more stairs?” I breathed.

They chuckled, dragging me up the stairs and through the door where I found us standing behind a counter of what looked like a candy store. It was too dark to see much. However, what I could see was not only glass jars filled with unknown objects, but also that there were items in the shape of lollipops and ice cream.

When the light came on, all I could do was stare. There were so many shelves full of so many different kinds of candy that if I’d tried to imagine an equally fantastical candy store before seeing this one, I wouldn’t be able to see it even close to this caliber.

I was more into candy than I had ever been willing to admit.

By the labels, I read everything around me: toffees, pink coconut ice, creamy nougat, all different flavors of chocolate there could ever be; there was a large barrel labeled Every Flavour Beans — most likely jelly beans — and another that said Fizzing Whizzbees, whatever those were.

On one whole wall, there were sweets labeled ‘Special Effects’ of which were such candies called: Toothflossing Stringmints, Exploding Bonbons, Black Pepper Imps, Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum, Sugar-Spun Quills, Peppermint Toads and Ice Mice — among so many others.

“This must be a dream,” I said incredulously.

“Nope,” Fred said, pinching me hard on the arm.

“Ouch!” I hissed, punching him in the chest. “That was not an opening to pinch me!”

“I just wanted you to see that it was real!” he said, holding a hand to his chest as though wounded. “What would you like from here?”

“I’m not stealing candy,” I snapped.

“You don’t have to — we’ll put the money for it on the counter,” George said, showing me silver and bronze coins in his hand. “We haven’t got much, but you won’t be able to come down here to Honeydukes for regular visits until your third year. We’ve been sneaking here since last year because we can’t wait until we have permission to go this coming year.”

“That’s why we wanted you to see this,” Fred said, gesturing at all the candy in the room. “And you can use the passage whenever you want. Come to us if you forget the spell.”

“I don’t know if I’ll even use it, but…” I looked around the room, then to the boys beside me. “Thanks. A lot. This is one of the best gifts I could ever ask for.”

They grinned before walking me through the store listing all their best suggestions.

< Previous Chapter     -Table of Contents-     Next Chapter >

[slytherinatheart]

I apologise to all the fictional men I didn't mention. That doesn't mean I love you less lol

the sluttiest thing a man can do is be fictional

[cherry-pop-elf]

How the Weasley siblings would react to you getting a tattoo inspired by them

Don’t forget, I take writing commissions! Don’t be shy!

William: Bill

He was shocked you even took his advice, but happy regardless. He was still trying to convince his family to get protection ruins tattooed on. They genuinely work. He’s alive after all, is he not? He’s so happy you got it. He is able to sleep FAR more soundly now, knowing you’ll be safer. He also, now, had more ammunition to convince the rest of his family to get one as well. There was also the fact it warms his heart to you it was him that inspired you to get it. That what he said really did matter, to you. You listened, and that meant the world to him. That alone was what made him feel flushed. Ah, his Habibi.

Charlie

He was waiting for the day. He’s drenched in his own. Often teasing that anyone who gets to close to him leave with one, like some kind of pox’s. Yeah, Molly never found it funny. But it seemed you did, since you got your own dragon around your arm. He can’t deny it. He’s a sucker for matching tattoos. There is something so beautiful about it, after all. So, it tugs on his heart strings. Knowing that the two of you matched. That a part of him was with you, constantly. But you never heard that from anyone. Shhhhh

Percy

He shocked, and rather curious. Now why would you go and do such a thing like that? He always found them rather unprofessional looking. Often sighting his own siblings as such examples. Like he was somehow better than them, because he had none. Yeah. You are totally cooler than a Curse Breaker, or Dragonologist, buddy. Keep dreaming. However, knowing why you got it has changed his views. Just a little. To see that you had a simple word on your wrist. His name. Simple, modest, sweet, and to the point. He still hated tattoos, but maybe he just hated them on certain people.

Fred

Loves it. He’s over the moon. He found it so sweet, and teases you about it constantly. How you are his, by law. Of course that’s not true, but you kinda knew what you signed up for. That ever teasing nightmare, the second that purple ink touched your skin. But, you got your revenge. Once you saw something familiar zipping across his arm one day. Oh the war you two had from it all.

George

He’s flustered, and flattered. He found it so sweet, and pretty adorable. That he had you inspired so much. He loves touching it, whenever you two are together. Tracing his fingers over the orange skin. He just found it so sweet. He had to return the favor, and now you two match. As him a blushing fool whenever you kiss his. Expect yours to be smooched in return. He just couldn’t get enough of it. He felt so special, and kinda different. He had something Fred didn’t, and now it was a nice reminder that they weren’t as identical as the world said. He had you.

Ron

He was wondering why you were so giggly, for a while. It all made sense, when he saw it. You were waiting for him to finally notice that damn flying car. It was one time-! Course now it’s the damn guardian of the woods, and makes sure kids get returned home safely. That was kinda nice. Deep down, he does like it. Loves that you loved his story so much, you wanted to remember it forever. Made him feel special. He deserves it, and you made sure that Ron knew he was special. Just like everyone else.

Ginny

Honestly, she kinda beat you to the punch. You both couldn’t stop laughing, when you saw each other’s tattoos. Seeing that quidditch broom flying was making her laugh that Weasley laugh. There was a reason you two dated, after all. Didn’t even have to say a word, and you two found a way to have matching ink. Didn’t even try, and it had you both in stitches. The hugs didn’t stop, as you two admire your brand new works of art.

[adekalyn]

Fred: Do you love me, Dad?

Mr. Weasley: Of course I do, George.

Fred: Would you still love me if I did something bad?

Mr. Weasley: Well of course...I...would...

Fred: I mean something really, really...

Mr. Weasley: GEORGE, WHAT DID YOU DO?

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Best Friends Brother pt. 2 | C.W. ⋆✮⋆˙

feat. Charlie Weasley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Months have passed since you met (ie shagged and definitely didn't fall in love with) Charlie Weasley. And when Molly invites you to the Burrow for Christmas, your best friends Fred and George assure you that Charlie will not be in attendance. Spoiler alert: They are wrong.

CW: MDNI 18+, lots of christmas fluff and smut, Charlie being a shameless flirt, pining, brat tamer and primal!charlie if you squint, dirty talk, p in v, oral (f receiving), this is so tooth-rotting I cannot

AN: Charlie might be my favorite weasley to write for. and the implications of brat taming and primal play have my mind reeeeeeling

part one | masterlist

“So what are you doing for Christmas, deary?” Mrs. Weasley asked, stirring a sugar lump into her tea. You were squeezed beside Fred into a booth at tea shop in Diagon Alley, having run into your best friends and their mother while Christmas shopping. Molly insisted you join them for a rejuvenating cuppa, and you weren't one to refuse an earl grey.

“Oh, nothing really. Probably watch some corny films and get take away,” you replied, nibbling on the edge of a croissant.

“What?!” She gasped, so loud the neighboring tables turned to see what the fuss what about.

Fred and George pulled an identical grimace.

“Unacceptable!” She cried, dropping her spoon with a clatter. “Why on earth didn't you tell me she was spending Christmas alone?!” She whacked George on the arm and kicked Fred in the shin under the table.

“We didn't know!” They whined in unison, rubbing their injuries.

“Oh, Mrs. Weasley, it really isn't a big deal—”

“Not a big deal! Dear, it's Christmas!” She reached across the table and took your hands, squeezing hard and holding your eye. “You will spend it with us at the Burrow, alright?”

Your heart stopped, your tongue going thick. “Oh, I-uh—”

“Charlie will be in Romania,” Fred hissed to you from the corner of his mouth. “Just say yes, or she’ll skin us.”

Charlie. Best friends brother, dragon wrangler, and the best lay you'd ever had in your life. It had been three months since your tryst in the storage room, and the hours of effortless conversation that came after, and you'd thought of him every day since.

You'd exchanged a few letters over the months, pleasantries and some light flirting on Charlie's part. He'd even sent you a few shed scales from your favorite dragon species, the Welsh Green, but beyond that, nothing had transpired.

He lived on Romania, after all. And his work was his life. You just had a bit of fun together, a few hours of fantasy, nothing more. But no matter how many times you repeated that like mantra, you still found yourself unable to move on.

“I hope you know, love, I will not accept 'no' as an answer,” Molly said, pining you with a stern glare.

“Well, thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I’m very grateful for the invitation, and I'd love to spend the holidays with your family,” you said, offering as genuine a smile you could muster despite your trepidation, and Molly beamed at you, already running through her plans for you all.

Fred slung an arm around your shoulders, jostling you with his excitement. “Yes! You're gonna love it.”

You were grateful, and you were eager to have a real Christmas with a family you adored, but it still felt…odd. You'd be spending the holidays with Charlie's family, but not Charlie.

You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed but…either way you were spending Christmas at the Weasley’s.

The Burrow and it's residents welcomed you with open arms. The sprawling home was decorated floor to rafter in homemade garland and candles, with decorated trees in every room, branches heavy with ornaments and paper chains.

Harry, Hermione, and Fleur were also staying over the holidays, and Ginny was beside herself with excitement that you were joining as well, pulling you in for a crushing hug that squeezed the last of bits of anxiety from your heart. Percy and Bill helped with your things, and the twins were quick to get a drink in your hand while everyone chatted excitedly over one another.

It was warm and merry, and you couldn't believe you almost missed this because of a stupid, little crush.

After about an hour of conversation, you noticed Ginny start to fidget under Harry’s arm, glancing at the location clock by the stairs every few minutes. The hand with Charlie's name remained firmly at ‘work’, while the rest piled into ‘home’.

You exhaled, fighting the nerves reknitting themselves in your stomach.

“Oi, twitchy,” Fred bumped your shoulder, drawing your attention back to the conversation. “What's on your mind—”

The floo station suddenly flared to life, verdant green light blasting through the room as the flames roared. Everyone yelped and scurried back, well, besides Ginny, and when the flames died the next instant, you realized why.

Charlie Weasley stood at the center of the fireplace, a bag over his shoulder and a smug smile on his face.

Your stomach turned inside out.

Merlin, how had he gotten even more handsome? His hair was a slightly longer, his beard thicker to ward off the biting, Romanian cold. He wore a heavy coat and cargo pants, leather boots still packed with melting snow.

“Charles!” Molly shrieked, throwing herself at her second oldest son and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

“Charlie!” Everyone cried, rushing to greet him while you tiptoed the opposite way, meaning to escape into the hall so you could collect yourself.

“Ah, ah,” George said, catching your wrist, grinning. “You don't want to do that,” he teased.

“And why not?” You huffed.

“Better to play it cool,” he winked, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

He was right, though. You would only survive this if you played it cool. Pretended everything was normal, that you hadn't been pining for this man for weeks on end, that the thought of spending Christmas with Charlie didn't make your heart flutter with excitement.

“But the clock!” Arthur laughed, finally wrangling Molly away so he could hug his son.

“Asked Ginevra to enchant it,” Charlie said, hugging his father with one arm and bundling his little sister into his opposite side, dropping a kiss on top of her head. “Seems she did well.”

“It is not to be tampered with!” Molly crowed, wiping tears from her cheeks.

“Alright, alright. I'll fix it,” Charlie chuckled, withdrawing his wand from his belt and muttering a reversal spell. The clock hand whirred around the face, confused, before it finally settled on ‘home’ with everyone else.

Charlie made his way around the room, hugging everyone and chatting until finally, he reached George, who you were attempting to hide behind.

Charlie pulled him into a bear hug, clapping him on the back. “She knows I can see her, right?” He murmured to George, just loud enough to be sure you also heard him.

Your cheeks warmed, your stomach falling through the floor.

George scoffed. “Stop checkin’ out my girlfriend, mate.”

Charlie grinned, shoving George to the side, perhaps a little harder than necessary. “Dream on, Georgie,” he chuckled, eyes shining with amusement. He finally turned to you, his expression softening. “Happy Christmas, y/n,” he said, approaching slowly, the heavy plod of his boots matching the jump of your heart.

“Happy Christmas, Charlie,” you replied, playing coy and reaching up to brush some snow from his wide shoulder. “How's my Welsh Green?” you asked.

Charlie smirked, his eyes sweeping over your face, down your neck, before flicking back to your eyes. “She nearly took my head off this morning when I tried to give her breakfast.”

“My kind of girl.” You felt your skin prickle under his attention, but you held your composure.

“Mine too,” he purred, lowering his voice. Heat curled low in your stomach, remembering the way his voice pitched and deepened while you—good god, you were losing your mind.

“Time for supper!” Molly called over the dull roar of conversation, and you slipped away from Charlie to follow the twins into the dining room, desperate for a breath that wasn’t sweetened by his cologne.

Dinner went by in a blur of food and activity, Charlie sat by Arthur at the head while you were sequestered to the other side with the twins. After eating, Charlie slipped away to shower, and you joined everyone else back in the living room for board games and music.

You were wrapped up in a game of Scrabble with Hermoine and Ginny when Charlie re-emerged, his hair damp and slicked back, dressed in flannel pajama pants and a black t-shirt. Your mouth dried, your pussy fluttering at the mental image of him in the shower moments before.

His eyes found you across the room, his tongue darting out to wet his lips while they swept over you, taking in the House crewneck and pj shorts you’d changed into. You turned back the game to hide your face, swallowing the lump in your throat.

A moment passed, then Charlie turned to join Bill, Percy, and Arthur in the study, casting you another glance over his shoulder before disappearing.

A few more hours rolled by, and one by one, everyone went to bed besides the older men in the study. Molly set you up on the couch, apologizing profusely for the lack of space, but you waved her off, happy to curl up by the fire and read the book Percy lent you.

You settled in with a blanket over your lap, a book in one hand, cup of tea in the other. Soon though, exhaustion began to tug at you, and your eyes started to flutter closed, the warmth of the room and the chaos of the day taking its toll as you slipped into unconsciousness.

Distantly, you felt someone take the book from your hand, the empty tea cup from your lap, and you swam back to wakefulness, lifting your head.

“Just me, love,” a voice said, soft and male, and you immediately recognized it as Charlie’s.

You blinked open your eyes, finding him sticking a playing card in your book to hold your page. “Oh, what are you doin’?” you mumbled, rubbing a knuckle in your eye.

“Are you sleeping down here?” he asked, crouching in front of you, brow lightly creased. He smelled like woodsmoke and cinnamon, and you had to remind your sleep-addled mind that you could not just melt into his arms like softened candle wax.

You nodded. “Guest beds are full. But it’s okay, m’comfy.” You snuggled back down on to the couch, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

“I don’t think so. C’mon, you can take my bed.”

You shook your head, grumbling an unintelligible protest into the pillow as sleep crept back in on you.

Suddenly, you were moving, the couch falling away.

“I’m not letting you sleep on the sodding couch,” Charlie grumbled, curling you into his chest. You gave half a thought to try and free yourself, to put up some sort of fight, but his heartbeat was right against your ear, reverberating in the barrel of his chest, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to move away.

He carried you up a few flights of stairs and down a hallway, nudging open a bedroom door with his foot, careful to walk you through without bumping against anything. He set you down on his bed and tucked you under the thick duvet. The smell of him wrapped around you, clean and warm and Charlie, and you moaned in contentment, too tired to stop yourself.

Every one of your cells had missed him.

He pressed a light-as-air kiss to your temple before pulling away. You reached out to catch his hand, surprising him.

“Where are you gonna sleep?” You asked, voice muffled by his pillow.

“I’ll find somewhere,” he murmured, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. “Used to sleeping in strange places.”

You must have pulled some kind of face, your filter nonexistent in your sleepy state, because he leaned back down to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Better stop with that pout, sweetheart. You’ve got me strung out on the gallows,” he warned, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“M’not doing anything,” you teased back, peeking open your eyes to look at him.

“I’m trying to behave this time,” he chuckled, crossing his heart. “You deserve to be properly courted.”

A yawn stole the snarky quip from your tongue. “If you insist,” you sigh, eyes fluttering closed again.

“I do. Now, get some sleep,” he whispered, but you were already gone.

The following morning, you trudged down the stairs at an egregious hour, the incessant, jovial chatter of the Weasley's impossible to sleep through.

You found them all in the kitchen, steam from the kettle floating through the air, chased by the scent of cinnamon and syrup.

“There she is! The dead walks the earth! Now go bloody change!” Arthur shouted, shoving a rumpled but bright-eyed looking Charlie out from the crowd around the kitchen island.

“Huh?” You looked between the twins and Arthur, but Charlie slung an arm over your shoulder, tugging you into his side.

“I've been summoned to the Ministry for an update on a particularly nasty Horntail,” he said, then leaned in a little closer. “And Happy Christmas Eve, darling,” he whispered.

“Happy Christmas Eve—sorry, what does that have to do with me?” You asked, your brain catching up to the situation.

“The sap refused to risk waking you up to change into his suit,” George supplied. "So they're running late."

“Why would you—”

“Ignore them, you can sleep as long as you like,” he murmured to you.

“Charlie!” You hissed. “You should have woken me up!”

“Over my dead body, love.”

“Charles! Now!” Molly shouted, rattling the rafters.

“Fine, fine.” He reluctantly pulled away from you and bound up the stairs.

“Good morning,” Fred said, beaming at your scowl.

“Morning people, are we?” You asked, accepting a cup of coffee from George.

“No,” Ron argued, his head pillowed by his arms on the table.

Fifteen minutes later, the clop of heavy boots coming down the stairs drew everyone's attention away from their breakfast.

Charlie came around the bend, dressed in a simple, espresso colored suit with a black wool coat, a leather bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was pushed back, brushed and tidy, and silver jewelry shined from his pierced ears and ringed hands.

You nearly choked on your eggs, and Fred clapped a hand on your back.

Everyone wolf whistled and jeered, not used to seeing their rakish brother dressed to the nines. Charlie waved them off with a soft smile, leaning over you to grab a cinnamon roll. His freshly applied cologne wafted over you, spicy and warm, and all other thoughts vacated your head.

Arthur grabbed him by the arm. “Yes, yes. You're very handsome, you are my son after all. Let's go.”

“Wish us luck!” Charlie called, allowing an impatient Arthur to drag him towards the floo station. In a burst of green, they were gone.

“Are all mornings this chaotic?” You asked no one in particular.

“Yes,” they all replied in a unison, and you grinned.

You could get used to a little chaos.

The day passed in a whirlwind of preparation, with you spending most of it with Molly in the kitchen or decorating with the twins.

Once that was finished, you'd gotten ready in Charlie's room, dressing in a white sweater dress and black stockings, your hair loose and makeup light.

You couldn't help but wonder what Charlie would think of it as you evaluated yourself in the mirror. You felt his absence like an ache in your side, and found your gaze wandering back to the floo station all day.

About an hour before dinner, green flames finally erupted in the fireplace. Everyone dropped what they were doing and rushed over, eager to hear about how it went at the Ministry.

You'd gathered from the twins that the fate of the Horntail hung in the balance after it destroyed a flock of sheep in Western Scotland. Charlie, along with several other Dragonologists, had been fighting for it’s life for months.

The flames extinguished, revealing Arthur and Charlie. Arthur was beaming, an arm around his son, while Charlie looked exhausted.

“Oh, thank goodness. Just in time!” Molly cried, throwing her arms around her husband.

“How'd it go?” Everyone asked at once, following Charlie as he stalked into the living room and dropped heavily onto the couch.

Charlie pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut against the racket.

“Our son was incredible, Molly. You should have seen him. Every question, he beat away like a bludger. It was masterful,” Arthur gushed, still grinning.

You watched Charlie warily. He certainly wasn't acting like it had gone well.

Bill, seeming as concerned as you, poured a glass of whiskey and passed it to his younger brother. Charlie swallowed the amber drink in one go, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“So, is the Horntail safe?” Ginny asked, sitting tentatively beside her brother on the couch.

“For now,” Charlie muttered, finally picking his head up and opening his eyes. “They want to reevaluate in six months.”

“But that's good, isn't it?” Harry asked.

Charlie nodded. “I suppose.”

You could feel the hurt and anger radiating off of him despite his efforts at composure. The resolution clearly wasn't good enough for him, and you understood why.

You resisted the urge to sit by him, to fuss over him like his family was doing. It seemed to only drive him deeper into himself. He didn't need to hear that it was a good thing, a victory, because it wasn't. It shouldn't be a debate in the first place.

Christmas Eve dinner passed with the expected chaos, and Charlie seemed to cheer a bit after a good meal, a few laughs, and another whiskey. But you could still detect a heaviness around his shoulders. You felt it as keenly as if it was your own burden.

After dinner, everyone moved back into the living room, but you followed Charlie into the now abandoned kitchen, the wreckage of the meal evident on every surface.

You leaned against the entry way, watching as he fiddled with random things, looking for a way to distract himself. “Hey,” you murmured, drawing his attention from the mugs he was straightening.

He gave you a tired smile. “Hi, love. How was your day?” He asked, moving towards you. He'd ditched his blazer and dress shirt before dinner, leaving him in his dark trousers and a white t-shirt, his muscles straining against the fabric.

“It was good. Made some cookies, strung some lights. We missed you, though.”

He braced a hand on the wall beside your head, leaning closer. “We?” He asked, raising a brow.

Merlin, his bicep was the size of your head.

You shrugged, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Me, mostly.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, freckles crinkling around his eyes. “I missed you too. Would have much rather been here to help out. I make a mean gingerbread.”

“I bet you do," you replied sincerely, watching the way his shoulders start to ease down. “I’m sorry about the Horntail,” you said, a little quieter. “But I'm glad you bought it a little more time.”

Charlie sighed, picking at a flake of paint on the wall. “I am too. Just wish I didn't have to do it at all. He doesn't deserve to be executed just for feeding himself.”

“I know. But I'm glad he has you to speak for him.”

Charlie searched your face, his eyes melting with blatant affection. Your heart tripped over itself, drumming hard under your skin.

He glanced up and you followed his gaze, finding a sprig of mistletoe hanging just above your heads. You hadn't noticed it before, but you supposed that was the beauty of mistletoe: it was always where you least expected it.

His eyes flicked back down to you, molten chocolate, and your thoughts turned to static. He reached up to cup your face, far more timid than you've come to expect from him, and tilted your head up towards his.

“Can't believe I haven't told you how beautiful you look yet,” he said, his other hand sliding around your waist to draw you closer. “A Christmas wish come true.”

You smiled, feeling like marshmallow over an open flame. “A Christmas wish?” You prodded, batting your lashes at him as heat spilled through you.

“Too cheesy?” He asked, bumping his nose against yours, your faces so close you could almost feel his smirk.

“The perfect amount,” you murmured, your lips grazing his.

Charlie closed the final millimeter, pressing your bodies together in a slow, sipping kiss. Every neuron in your body lit up, reaching towards him as you curled your fingers into his shirt, deepening the kiss. His tongue caressed the seam of your mouth and you parted for him, letting him delve further and taste you.

He loosed a low groan, his grip tightening as he backed you against the wall. He licked into your mouth, stoking the fire simmering under your skin.

“Hey, y/n—merlin, in the middle of the kitchen? Really?”

You and Charlie sprang apart, finding Fred with a hand clapped over his eyes, a cheeky grin on his face.

“So sorry for interrupting. Though, lucky it was me and not mum,” he teased, dropping his hand. But his smile quickly fell too when Charlie advanced on him, swinging an arm out in an attempt to grab him. Fred ducked to the left and bolted back into the living room, leaving Charlie laughing and shaking his head.

“Well, that's fantastic,” you huffed, pressing a hand to your sternum to quell your pounding heart.

“I can't say they'll be all that surprised.” Charlie cupped your face again, drawing you up for a quick peck. “I haven't shut up about you since we met.”

You're soul lifted out of your body. “You—r-really?”

He smiled, pulling you in for a hug, his big arms wrapped around your head and shoulders. “Really, love. You've got me wrapped around your little finger,” he said, his voice muffled by your hair.

“I thought I was going mad, I…I couldn't stop thinking about you,” you admitted, exhaling in relief. You hugged him around the waist, sliding your hands under his shirt just to feel his skin against yours.

You felt him stiffen at your admission, before the tension dissolved from his muscles completely. “Maybe we're both a little mad, then,” he chuckled.

“We should get back to the party before they start to miss us,” you said after a few moments of quiet, though all you wanted to do was drag him up to his room and show him just how mad you were for him. But you were a guest, and you needed a moment to get your thoughts in order.

It seemed Charlie had made up his mind about what he wanted, but you hadn't even begun to let yourself consider something real with Charlie Weasley. It seemed like too lofty a hope, an impossibility.

Your heart screamed ‘yes’ but your mind demanded a rationalization, a plan. Whatever you felt for him was intense, but you would hate to rush into something and ruin what you knew could be amazing.

Well, rush into something any more than your already had.

You realized he was studying you like your thoughts were written across your skin. “Baby, look at me,” he said, turning your face back up to his. “I know we started off on an…unorthodox foot. But that wasn't just a hook up and you and I both know it.” He leaned his forehead against yours. “There’s something more between us.”

“I feel it too,” you admitted. “But I've never…” you trailed off, unable to articulate the tumbling thoughts in your mind.

“Me neither, to be honest. I feel like I've been struck by lightning,” he said, breathless, a slight nervous tremble in his voice.

You nodded, reassured that he was feeling the same, vaguely crazed way you were.

“Trust yourself, y/n,” he said, releasing you from the hug and offering you his hand. “Overthinking is the thief of joy.”

“Get out of my brain,” you huffed in mock annoyance, smiling as you twined your fingers with his.

The rest of the evening passed in a rose colored blur, with cookies and games and storytelling. Charlie never strayed far from your side, though you kept any physical affection to a minimum. But based on the knowing looks from Arthur and Molly, and the teasing smirks and jabs from his siblings, they were definitely on to you two.

After the clock struck midnight, Molly demanded everyone go off to bed so Father Christmas would have no interruptions. You were all plenty old enough to know there was no such thing, but it still made you feel a giddy thrill of excitement. That glimmer of Christmas magic you never grow out of.

Charlie offered you his hand at the base of the stairs, a mischievous sort of smile on his face, and you accepted with a raised eyebrow. He led you up the stairs and opened the door to his room with a flourish.

You nearly toppled over when you walked in. It was completely transformed from this morning. Gone were the normal decorations and his dark duvet, replaced instead with a winter forest wonderland.

His bedspread was a deep forest green, with white throw pillows and silver trim, and a stuffed reindeer waited patiently for you on the pillow, floppy and velveteen. In the corner stood a flocked tree, decorated with pine cones and strung cranberries, and little animal ornaments carved from wood. The fire roared merrily in the fireplace, the mantle above it strewn with wild garland and rosemary. Two stockings hung above the flame, each of your names embroidered on them in silver and gold.

You whirled around to look at Charlie, who was smiling down at you, a slight flush to his freckled cheeks.

“When the hell did you have time to do this?” You asked, breathless and overwhelmed. No one has ever done something so special for you before.

“While you were wrapped up in Wizards Chess with Ron.” He snaked his arms around you, dropping a kiss to your furrowed brow.

“Charlie, this is—” emotion clogged your throat. “T-this is the m-most amazing thing—”

“Oh, baby,” he cooed, shushing you with a peck to your lips. “Spoiling you on Christmas feels like the least I can do to show you how much you mean to me. How badly I want this.”

“This?” You ask, sliding your hands up his broad chest. You expected to feel butterflies, but instead a warm blanket of peace settled over you, an understanding that this is exactly how it was meant to go. That here, with him, in the earliest hours of Christmas morning, was exactly where you belonged.

“Us,” he murmured, glancing at the stockings over the mantle, then back down to you, his dark eyes practically glowing with affection. “If that's what you want too.”

“Even with me here in London?” You asked, fiddling with his collar to hide the shaking in your fingers.

“We'll figure it out. You can come visit me as often as you like. And I can come back here a few times a month.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek, moving down your neck like he just couldn't hold himself back anymore. “I have a cabin.” Kiss. “In the forest.” Kiss. “With a big fireplace.” Kiss. “And a soaking tub.” Kiss. “And I can cook.” Kiss. “And have a giant bed—”

“Charlie!” You giggled, tugging on his hair so he lifted his head and you could kiss him properly, melting under the eagerness of his mouth, the joy in his kiss.

He scooped you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He crossed the room without breaking the kiss, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with you straddling him. The heat of your bodies pressed together was enough to have your pussy tingling, your breath labored.

“I wanna go where you go,” you breathed, breaking the kiss to appease your burning lungs. “I want to be with you.”

He responded with another fervid kiss, open-mouthed and hungry, and you let yourself get swept away in the riptide that was Charlie Weasley. Wild, impulsive, but so sincere, so lion-hearted and good. You weren't sure you'd ever get enough of him.

He seemed just as desperate for you, tugging his shirt over his head and letting your hands finally wander the full expanse of his body without barriers. You pushed him back onto the bed so you could really take him in, his big hands resting heavily on your thighs. He was broad and sturdy, his chest and arms corded with hard earned muscle, the tanned skin littered with freckles and silvery scars.

You nearly started drooling.

In a fluid motion, you tugged your sweater dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but your Christmas underwear set and black stockings. The set was black mesh, decorated with mistletoe and holly berries. You had bought in Hogsmeade on the off chance Charlie made an appearance, and it was worth the steep price to see his soul ascend as he took you in.

“Merlin’s fucking—” he didn't even finish the sentence, instead pulling you down onto his chest for another scalding kiss, his calloused hands wandering up your thighs and over your hips, smoothing over the curve of your rib cage and around the plane of your back. His tongue slid into your mouth, twining with yours. You could taste the whiskey he'd been drinking, tinged with cigar smoke and gingerbread, and you moaned at the decadence of him.

One of his hands slid around to cup the nape of your neck, the other bracketing across your lower back to press your hips flush to his. You ground down onto him, unable to ignore the thrumming between your legs any longer. You both groaned at the new friction, his hips lifting to press more firmly against you.

“Just so you know,” he gruffed as you kissed down his neck, licking a long stripe over his Adam’s apple, feeling his stubble under your tongue. “I put a silencing charm on the room.”

“Very presumptuous of you,” you teased, sucking at his pulse just hard enough to leave a faint bruise, but nothing too obvious.

His hips rolled against yours, coaxing a breathy moan from your lips. “Part of my training includes being prepared for any situation,” he countered, his voice strained with desire as you rocked against him.

“Uh-huh. And what else were you trained to do?” You asked, freezing in place to watch him squirm.

A wicked smirk crossed his face and suddenly you were moving, flipped beneath his body faster than you could blink. “How to tame brats,” he growled against your ear, and a shiver rolled down your spine.

He shifted down your body, kissing and licking along the swell of your breasts before unlatching your bra and tossing in across the room. He took both your tits in his hands, nuzzling the soft flesh before laving his tongue across both nipples, making you lift off the bed with a gasp of pleasure.

“It's not fair that you get to walk around with these all the time. Too fucking perfect,” he said, his voice muffled by your skin.

You almost said that they were his. That the only thing that wasn't fair was how quickly he'd stolen your heart. But you bit your tongue, moaning under his ministrations instead.

He sucked a pearled nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it before grazing his teeth against it, his fingers pinching and rolling the other until your eyes crossed, desire pooling between your legs.

“Can take my time with you now,” he hummed, pulling back to pepper kisses across your chest. “Take care of my girl properly.”

My girl. Your head spun, your heart swelling with elation. You never thought this would happen for you, the perpetually single girl who never found someone you genuinely connected with. But Charlie was like a comet tearing through your life, turning every one of your assumptions about love upside down.

He drew you back from your thoughts with a bite under your left breast. “Come back to me, baby. No more overthinking.”

“It’s good thoughts this time,” you said, running your fingers through his ginger hair and scratching along his scalp as he soothed the mark with his tongue.

He looked up at you, a pleased smirk on his face. “Thinking about that soaking tub, huh?”

You pulled his hair, giggling at his antics while he moved further down your body. “Among other things—shit, Charlie,” you whined when his tongue dragged over the soaked gusset of your panties, scalding hot and firm.

He pulled them to the side, gliding his tongue through your slick folds and wrapping his lips around your clit, lashing it with the tip of his tongue. Pleasure coursed through you, your eyes rolling back in your skull as you cried out.

He hummed against you, moving back down to lap at your entrance with long, messy strokes. He was practically grinding his face against you, savoring you like you were the finest meal he'd ever had. He was so enraptured in pleasuring you that he was moaning right along with you, making your clit vibrate and walls flutter.

“Saints, I missed you,” he said, giving your clit and open mouthed kiss before sucking the sensitive bud between his teeth.

You couldn't even begin to formulate words, completely lost in his feasting, your body fizzing with delight and pleasure. It felt like you were high, your muscles languid, bones rubbery.

“Not thinking anymore, are we?” He teased, nipping at the soft skin of your inner thigh.

You whimpered and shook your head, raising your hips to chase after his mouth.

“Good girl.” he purred, rewarding you by latching back onto your clit, his middle finger easing inside your greedy channel.

You cried out, clenching around his finger as he pushed you closer to the edge, your listless haze making way for bright, desperate pleasure. You bucked your hips against his mouth, his tongue flattening against your clit as his inserted a second finger, stretching you. The sounds were damn near sinful, lewd and sloppy as he worked your pussy into submission, molding you like a sculptor with wet clay.

“Fuck, Charlie. M’gonna come,” you whined, tangling your fingers in his hair to keep him in that perfect spot.

He curled his fingers inside of you and your vision whited out, your orgasm ripping through you, body and soul. You screamed, spine arching off the bed as wave after wave of burning ecstasy rolled through you, his tongue and fingers not letting up for a second as you convulsed.

“That's it, honey. Just like that, let it all go,” he cooed, kitten-licking your clit as you started to come down, his fingers continuing to gently massage your spasming walls. “Try to relax, love. I know it's a lot, but just relax f’me. You're doing so well.”

You sank back into the mattress, breathing labored as he soothed your quivering pussy with gentle touches. “Charlie,” you moaned, your body finally settling and cycling from overstimulation to rebuilding pleasure. “Feels s’good.”

He nuzzled your clit, kissing over your slit, the top of your mound, your inner thighs. “I live to serve,” he said, withdrawing his fingers and sucking them clean. “And if I have to live my life in service to this perfect little cunt, so be it.” As if to punctuate his point, he laved his tongue through you again and you keened, nearly jumping away at the intensity.

You shook you head, tugging him up by the hair. “Need you to fuck me, Charlie. Please?”

He grinned, kissing his way back up your body until he caught your lips once more, the taste of you mixing with him in a way that pleased some possessive part of your brain. You deepened the kiss, licking into his mouth for more.

He pressed his body against yours, the weight of him warm and comforting as you savored one another. You trailed your hands over his back, feeling some of the ridges and scars stretched across the ropes of muscle. He guided one of your legs up over his hip, angling your bodies together like a puzzle piece.

You basked in the simmering kiss for a moment longer before need began to claw at your insides, your hips pressing up against his once more.

“Charlie, please,” you sighed into his mouth, dragging your nails down his back. “Don't make me beg.”

“But you sound so sweet, all breathy and desperate,” he cooed, pecking your lips a final time before moving off the bed. He slid your panties down your legs, tossing them aside with your other clothes, then removed his trousers and boxers, that gorgeous, rosy cock slapping up against his stomach.

He climbed back onto the bed and spread your thighs, kneading the flesh at your hip while he ran the rigid head of his cock through your drooling pussy.

“My sweet girl wants to get fucked, hm?” he said, his voice rough as he used his cock to massage your puffy clit. “Let me hear you ask one more time, honey. Sounds so pretty.”

“Please fuck me, baby. Please,” you whimpered, fisting the sheets on either side of you.

He notched his cock at your entrance, hissing through his teeth as your pussy opened effortlessly for him. “That's it, lovey. Fuck, your little pussy is so tight f’me,” he groaned as your walls clenched around him, coaxing him deeper. You could tell he was fighting the urge to bottom out in one thrust, the muscles in his arms and shoulders taught and trembling, chest heaving and jaw a little slack.

You reached for him, the feeling so intense you needed an anchor. He leaned forward, knowing what you craved, and let you wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck.

He rubbed soothing circles on your thigh, his other hand sliding around your back to hold you against him. “Too much, baby?” He asked, pausing his slow penetration.

“Too good,” you whimpered, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He nodded, loosing a breath as you clenched around him. “Feel like your squeezing my heart,” he groaned, and you could feel it racing just beneath his skin, frantic as yours.

“Keep going, Charlie. Please,” you begged, tilting your pelvis so he sank a little deeper.

He eased you back onto the bed, still holding you close. “Good girl, takin’ me so well. Just relax, honey. Just feel me,” he soothed as he pushed the rest of the way in, his cockhead nudging your cervix and stretching your walls just enough. Not sensing any discomfort from you, he started rolling his hips back and forth in fluid strokes, kissing your skin wherever he could reach.

Pleasure spread through your body like ink through water, coloring every sensation, every thought. You loosened your grip on him, opening yourself up to his unhurried affection as he fucked you slowly, letting you adjust to the onslaught of sensation.

“You're so pretty like this, so fucking perfect.” He mouthed at your throat, your head tilting back with a cry as he increased his pace, ecstasy dancing along your skin. “All mine to love on, yeah? You all mine, baby?”

You bobbed your head, already cockdrunk and blissed out, your body submitting completely to him. “Yes, fuck, yes. All yours,” you whimpered, that knot in your lower stomach starting to tighten.

“Fuck yes, my good girl.” He leaned down and caught your lips in a searing kiss, a growl rumbling through his chest as he fucked you harder, driving his cock in and out of your sopping cunt with powerful strokes. “And I'm yours, baby. All fucking yours.” He murmured against your mouth and you grinned, feeling your heart give a discordant thump of elation.

He leaned back to fuck you deeper, one hand tangling with both of yours and pining your arms over your head, the other sliding down to rub tight circles over your clit. You stretched out for him, arching your breasts up to his hungry gaze as he railed you, merciless and claiming.

“Saints, you look so fucking sexy. Gonna come for me, love? Mark this cock as yours?”

You let out a scream as a second orgasm was wrenched from your body, the tension unraveling all at once in a torrent of bliss. You clamped hard around him, feeling his cock swell, then buck as his own release crashed over him, your name coming out like roar.

You clung to one another, his hips still rolling into yours as your walls milked him dry, wringing every drop of pleasure from one another until you crashed back to earth as one.

After catching your breath for a moment, he lifted off of you, hands skimming over your face, your body. “Merlin, I’m sorry, baby. I really didn't mean to be that rough, are you okay? Did I hurt—”

You silenced him with a kiss, pulling his body back down onto yours. “Was perfect,” you mumbled against his lips and he smiled.

“You were perfect,” he corrected, pecking kisses all over your cheeks and forehead. “Can’t get enough of you.”

You giggled, squirming as his hands tickled along your sensitive skin.

“Can I take you for a real date tomorrow? I don't know if anything will be open, but I refuse to go another day without—”

“Charlie,” you shushed, cupping his bearded cheek. “You can take me to the kitchen and call it a first date. I don't care about some made-up fucking rules. I just want to be with you.”

He grinned, giving you a quick, toothy kiss. “Then how about I clean you up, make some mulled wine with this expensive shit I brought back from Romania, and we cuddle by the fire? Call that our first date, and next year we can celebrate our one year anniversary on Christmas.”

You pushed against his chest, laughing at his dramatics, but secretly hoping that would be the case. “It better be a hell of mulled wine then,” you teased.

“Oh, it will be. Romanians don't fuck around when it comes to their booze. Now, open those gorgeous legs for me.”

“Charles Septimus Weasley! Get up!” Ginny shouted through the door, banging her fist on the wood. “You cannot sleep in on Christmas!”

“Septimus?” You groaned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Charlie had his head buried in your neck, heavy limbs thrown over your body. He was warm as a furnace, and the still crackling fire didn't help matters.

“Sod off!” he barked back, nuzzling closer and tightening his hold around you. You glanced at the clock, and after your prolonged first date, you'd only gotten a few scant hours of sleep.

“Fine! Then I'll throw whatever's in this fancy little box in the fire!”

Charlie was up in a flash, tugging on pants and wrenching open the door, but Ginny was already gone.

He sighed, grabbed something from the hall, then swung the door shut. He looked ready to dive back into bed, but you were already up, pulling on a pair of his boxers.

He froze in place, a feral sort of glint in his eye, forgetting entirely about the package in his hands. When you went to grab it, he lifted it high above his head, well out of your reach.

“Charlie!” You pouted, trying in vain to pull his arm down. He still hadn't taken his eyes off of your body. “You really want me to make a bad impression on your parents for our first Christmas?” You snapped, fighting the smile rising on your face.

“Just do a little spin for me,” he said, twirling a finger around.

“Charlie!”

“Fine, fine. Here,” he chuckled, handing you a pair of pajamas with your name embroidered on them. They were red and green, with white stripes and gold thread, the material thick and warm.

You loved them already.

The two of you quickly got dressed and hurried downstairs, finding everyone else already piled into the living room, also dressed in matching pj's.

“Ah, the lovebirds finally make their appearance!” Bill teased from the big arm chair, Fleur cuddled into his side.

Charlie flipped him off, ignoring the squawk of disapproval form his mother.

“Come, come!” Molly grabbed you and plunked you down on the last free space on the couch, and George passed you a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

George leaned in and muttered, “It's no mulled wine, but—”

Charlie whacked the back of his head. “Quiet, you,” he warned.

“Charles, if I have to speak to you again!” Molly shouted.

“Alright, alright! Let's get this show on the road,” Arthur said, shooing his son away so they could distribute the clumsily wrapped boxes under the tree.

Charlie plopped onto the floor between your knees, his hands coming up to absently massage your right foot. Your whole body tingled at the contact, your heart still tight with joy.

Could this really be your life?

Arthur passed out gifts, and you ended up with a pile of three at your feet. A flat, rectangular box, a heavy, square box, and one small enough to fit in your hand, wrapped in green and gold ribbon.

They went around one by one, opening gifts. Charlie received a new pair of steel-toed boots, enchanted to prevent the Romanian cold from creeping in, and an expensive looking bottle of gin, courtesy of his big brother.

After him, it was finally your turn. Your heart thudded from the attention, and you started unwrapping the larger present with trembling fingers. You tore off the paper and opened the white box underneath it, finding a knitted sweater with your initial on the front. Your throat pinched shut, tears burning behind your eyes as you traced your fingers over it.

“You're part of the family now, love,” Molly said, smiling warmly at you as you wiped away a tear with the back of your hand.

“Thank you,” you sniffled, laughing at yourself, and Charlie gave your ankle a reassuring squeeze, pressing a kiss to your knee.

The next present was from Fred and George, a stack of books you'd been eyeballing the last time the three of you went to Flourish and Blotts, and you pulled them in for a group hug.

Finally, it came down to the last present. The tension pulled taut as a bowstring when Charlie turned towards you, propped up on one knee, presenting the small box.

“I know how this looks,” he murmured, glancing down at himself. “But I promise I'm not that insane.”

You giggled nervously, taking the present from his hand and trying to ignore that his entire family was watching you. You tried to focus on Charlie, the rise and fall of his shoulders, the lock of copper hair hanging over his brow, and blocked the others out.

Carefully, you undid the ribbon and tore off the paper, revealing a black, dragon-leather box. Charlie gave you an encouraging nod, noticing the way you hesitated, and you cracked open the lid.

Inside was a golden necklace with a Welsh Green dragon scale pendant sitting on a velvet cushion. It was the most stunning shade of emerald you'd ever seen, reflecting beautifully in the candlelight, shifting blue, then pearlescent, and back to green. It was breathtaking, and you fought back the tears gathering on your lower lashes so you could continue to gaze at it.

“Charlie, this is—” emotion stole your words, and all you could do was throw your arms around him and bury your face into his shoulder.

“I hope you love it, darling. Had it made just for you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Here, let me put it on you.”

You nodded, sitting up and trying to wipe your tears before his family could see what a mess you were, but when you looked around, you saw half of them crying too.

Molly blew you a kiss, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, and you nearly lost it again.

Charlie gently took the box from your hands and walked around behind the couch. His cool fingers grazed the sides of your throat and the weight of the pendant settled against your clavicle. A moment later, your heard the clasp click, and felt the warm brush of his lips on the back on your neck.

You fondled the pendant with your fingers, the metal already warming against your heated skin, the scale heavy and smooth. Charlie came back around to the front, eyes lighting up at the sight of your smile.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he hummed, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

You grabbed his collar and pulled him in for a kiss. “Merry Christmas, Charlie.”

Thank you so much for reading!! (and if you have anything you'd like to read for Charlie, my asks are open!)

[easterbonnet]

Weasley Twins Masterlist

. . .

sleepover (moodboard)

letter to george after fred passed

[rottenherbs]

Saint Like

Pairing: G.W x Reader Request: Would you write a George x reader where Molly doesn't like George's girlfriend and she's kind of mean towards her but when she sees reader take care of George after he loses his ear she starts to slowly accept her? W/C: 2.2k A/N: finally back to writing! Yippie!! That sickness actually was the worst I've had in years. [masterlist] Much love, Saige

It hurts to be dismissed by your boyfriend's mother. Year after year you arrive at his home, welcomed by others in his family, banter with his father, and simultaneously given the stark cold shoulder by the woman who gave him life.

It confused you to no end. She never supported the twins' endeavors; she consistently dismissed and shrouded any thought of their joke shop, practically banning any conversation of the idea in the burrow indefinitely. In her own world, Fred and George would magically wake up one day and decide that they wanted to pursue a career that was more lucrative. Her own fear of poverty inflamed her distaste in their aspirations — purely because it had the possibility of their own financial demise. She wanted better for her boys, and unfortunately you were the easy scapegoat to place blame.

It poked and prodded every nerve on you. You wanted nothing but success and love for George and his family, but you were seen as a threat to the possibilities that they might turn out… normal.

—

The climate of the wizarding world was beyond bleak. Everyday you rose to the sun, beyond blessed to be living another day, but filled with anxieties that it truly may be your last.

Your addition to the order was practically mandatory. With no ties to your parents it was easy for you to sign away your life for the greater good. Your heart lied with George and your friends and fighting next to them would be an honor.

As it came up on Harry’s seventeenth birthday, figuring out how to transport the boy became more trivial. The magical protection given to him by his mothers sacrifice would wear off and he would be more vulnerable to Voldemort than ever. Every movement or spell he made was under the view of the ministry and it had to be done with extreme caution.

The burrow was the next safest place for him, but getting him there bred confusion and limited options.

“What if we just had him apparate out?” Ron asked. The order sat around the kitchen table at the Burrow, just days before operation Free Potter.

”He is still underage Ron, it’ll be flagged immediately.” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes slightly. Ron shook his head.

”We’re already breaking the law, why not one more!” He chuffed, disappointed how easily his idea was shut down.

“Pius Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem.” Moody interrupted “He’s made it an imprisonable offence to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a Portkey here or apparate in or out.”

The table silenced at his arrival, everyone soaking in the new information and the loss of yet another helper on the inside.

“That’s pointless, he is protected anyway -“ You started. You were honestly just thinking out loud, soon realizing everyone’s eyes on you.

“All that’s done is stop Harry from leaving safely.” You coughed, attempting to find your voice again. Moody shook his head in agreement, those in the order all now speaking among themselves. George arrived at the kitchen taking a spot next to you. He nudged you quietly, smirking down at you.

“Anything juicy?” He whispered, leaning down. You smiled and shook your head no, leaning over to reply.

“Just all hobgobble about how we will get Harry here. Even moody is stumped.” You whispered. George scoffed.

“Moody stumped? Give him like 4 minutes, we’ll be out of here in no time.” He chuffed. The feeling of his hot breath tickled your neck, causing you to shiver slightly. Giggling, you looked over the room, unfortunately making eye contact with Mrs. Weasley. She pursed her lips and scowled.

“I think we ought not be distracted.” She stood, walking around the large table to the sink. She stood with her hands firmly on the ledge leaning away from the crowd. As much as you felt targeted by the statement she was right.

“Its risky but it’ll take cooperation… from all yous.” Moody thumped, his fake eye spiraling around the room. Thievery fell into a hush, waiting for what he had to reveal.

“Everyone will be a potter. As many heads as we can round up. They’ll be confused, won’t know who’s who.” He coughed, opening his flask and taking a swig.

“Polyjuice potion?” George asked. It was more of a rhetorical question of course, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Aye boy.” Moody nodded.

“They’ll just kill us all.” Molly shrieked, the idea of everyone now the face of the target became increasingly daunting.

“No they won’t Molly.” Remus coincided. “We ride on brooms, quietly through the night in groups eh” He raised his eyebrows, checking the feelings of the table. Most people nodded in agreement.

“It’s the order Molly. We’ve been in danger from the beginning. It’s not the time to become fearful.” Moody coughed, standing up from the table.

“One month from today. Stay vigilant.” Moody snapped from the room, leaving everyone in silence.

—

The month came and went in a flash. It felt as if the sky was grey every day since that meeting. No sign of summer or joy, only the steep consequences that were to come.

“Hi my love.” George purred from behind you. He wrapped his arms around your torso, resting his head on top of your.

“Hi.” You whispered, leaning back into his body. You both swung lightly in each other's arms enjoying the feeling of peace.

“They just got word of who’s flying.” He mumbled, keeping his head steady. You kept swaying, but your body stiffened slightly at his words.

“You’re going.” You sighed. You knew he would, and you kicked yourself daily for worrying about his demise. It wasn’t exactly a positive situation to be in, but your milling about danger wouldn’t help.

“I know you wish I could stay, but Fred and I fly well, and they need people who are confident in their brooms.” He murmured, rubbing your sides lovingly. He turned you around to face him, his cheeks warm with glow, beaming down at you.

“What am I doing?” You asked, holding his arms tightly. Part of you wished to be in the sky with him, as if your presence could protect.

“You, my beautiful bird-“ George leaned down, kissing your forehead after every word. “You are meant to stay here. Look for signs and send alerts back if anything happens.”

You didn’t respond, you just sighed and smiled.

“I know you wanted to go.” He whispered. “But it’ll be good. A good opportunity to help from the ground.” He smiled. You could tell he was trying to reassure you, his eyes darting between yours looking for any sign of disapproval.

“Okay.” You whispered, leaning up so your nose grazed his. “I’ll be waiting for you, and you better come back in one piece.”

—

The night finally arrived and you spent every waking moment with George. You hated to think it was your last time seeing him, but the reality was clear. Anything could happen tonight and you would be sure that it was spent with him.

After dinner, Moody arrived at the burrow rallying up those who were going.

“5 minutes and we must be out, got it?” He looked around the room, heads nodding in acceptance. He turned to you and Molly, softening his face.

“You two will be the first to know if anything happens. I will send a message once we have left the Dursleys, then we will be back here in approximately 30 minutes.” His eyes widened in question, looking for any look of approval between you two. You dare not look at Molly and keep eye contact with Moody.

“Yes sir.” You choked, the air in your chest seizing.

“Atta girl. Alrig’t move out.” Moody winked, turning on his heel and walking out of the room, numerous bodies following. George paused and jogged over to you, kissing your cheek and squeezing your hand before joining the fray.

Once everyone left the burrow became quiet. Molly soon looked for any way to busy her fingertips knowing she’d have to distract her mind or else she’d go mad. You stood by the window for a short period, looking at the sky and prairie out past the horizon looking for any sign of movement. Hearing a hefty sigh behind you, you turned to face the sound, already anticipating a lecture.

“Could you help me make supper? I bet they’ll be hungry when they get back.” Mrs. Weasley spoke softly, her back turned to you still maneuvering pots and pans in the kitchen. You nodded to yourself and took a deep breath in, walking over near her.

“Maybe start with the potato’s, rid the eyes and peel the skin for me.” She didn’t look at you, instead speaking into her hands, sniffling after ever few words. She wasn’t crying, but you could hear the trouble in her voice clear as day. Grabbing a peeler, you got to work, trying to pass the time as well.

“I hope you know I don’t .. loathe you like you may think.” She whispered, just loud enough so that you’d hear but quiet enough that the words don’t linger in the air.

You stood in silence, peeling the potatoes, confused entirely by her statement.

“I don’t think-“ you lied, thinking it was the right thing to counter, even deep down you felt that she thought you were better off dead most days.

“You have every right to think it.” She snuffed, pausing her work and biting her cheek. “I just….”

“I understand a mothers love.” You whispered, picking up another potato and holding it softly. “I understand wanting the best for your children, but ..” you choked. You didn’t know if you had the confidence to say yet another thing that would make her angry.

“But sometimes their best interest isn’t yours and it’s out of a mothers control what their adult children do.” You finished. You knew it was the truth, but on the heels of Percy abandoning the family it had to have stung just as hard.

Mrs. Weasley didn’t respond. She didn’t move her head or acknowledge your statement but stood and pondered what you said. You couldn’t tell if she was boiling with rage or the words finally penetrated the field of deep affection that clouded her judgement so.

Just from the window, a owl rapped the glass, begging to be let in.

“That’s them.” She muttered, wiping her hands on her apron and rushing over to let the owl in.

“Thirty minutes.” She sighed

“Thirty minutes.” You repeated.

Time moved extremely fast after that. You both were taking turns by the window to cool down your nerves with the cold night air. The meal was brewing magically on the stone and didn’t need the tender touch of either of you to finish. Even though very little was said between you two, it felt as if you had become closer because of tonight. At least, we understood a little more about each other retroactively.

The sound of loud snapping wood alerted you both that people were apperating at the burrow. Running out of the burrow, you locked eyes with Harry, who was barreling off of Harris’s motorbike, stumbling towards the house.

“Death Eaters, loads of them — we were chased —" Harry coughed, falling into Mrs. Weasley's arms. Your mind raced, searching the sky for any one else who would arrive.

“Death eaters-“ You whispered, fear overtaking your body. You could taste the adrenaline in your mouth, a sour foul feeling overcoming your every sense. Luckily the pain of unknowing was only for a moment more, as Lupin and George followed suit.

“George!” You cried, running over to the boy. His hand held the side of his head, blood was dripping down his shoulder and across his cheek.

“I’m okay im okay.” He mumbled, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and hoisting himself upon your small frame. You tugged his body indoors, flopping him on the family couch in the living room.

“It’s just my ear darling.” He smiled weakly, his face was pale from the loss of blood but still held your hand tightly. Mrs. Weasley quickly began to tend to her son, allowing you to hold his hand and be with him through it all. Even though you were slightly inconvenient to her tending, she dare not ask you to move. Both Fred and you had been tied together, your sobs uncontrollable.

“Honestly I think I’m way cuter without an ear. Don’t you think?” George tossed, rubbing your hand affectionately. Mrs. Weasley had successfully stopped the bleeding and bandaged what she could, leaving you both alone in the room. Just in the kitchen, Lupin and the order continued to talk about their now sudden loss of Moody and who could be trusted.

“It definitely makes you stand out.” You laughed, finally feeling comfortable in his state. You both smiled at each other, the everlasting admiration you had for him only grew, how resilient and fateful even in the face of death he had been.

“I’ll always get the last laugh-“

[kyber-crystal]

through the seasons || f.w.

summary: he would love you till the end of time. everyone can see it, and they can only hope that you’ll come to your senses and realize that too.

words: ~6.4k (i went overboard LMFAO)

warnings: light angst, some mentions of death / violence (but dw it's a happy ending)

a/n: first ever hp fic in like, ever LOL so apologies if this seems off in any way. the timeline for this is a lil weird?? but basically the fic starts during the spring of GOF: you’re a year below fred & a year above the golden trio : ) ALSO i highly recommend listening to 'moonlight serenade' by frank sinatra ESP during the parts it's mentioned in. you'll see why :)))) add yourself to my hp taglist here!

spring

Given that springtime was nearly over, it was rather cold outside. 

The sky gleamed a bright, cornflower blue, with the May morning breeze hitting your skin. You, Hermione, and Ginny found yourselves huddling together in the stands and tightly clutching each other to keep warm. 

Anticipation nipped at your insides like tiny needles. You had spent the past half-hour at breakfast listening to a nervous Ron ramble on about how he hardly knew what he was doing, and seeing an unusually quiet Fred pick at his food. You knew it wasn’t like him to spend almost an entire meal without saying more than a few words. 

“You ok?” you mouthed, glancing over at the redhead in concern.  “As long as you’re looking at me,” Fred replied, attempting a small smile. He pressed something warm and fuzzy into your hands under the table. “You’re my good luck charm today. Keep this for me during the match.” You nodded, and felt your heart warm as you looked down to see that it was the fuzzy scarf he always wore during Hogsmeade trips or around the castle when it got particularly chilly. His initials had been hand-stitched into one end—undoubtedly Mrs. Weasley’s handiwork. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” “That’s my girl.”

“Look!” Ginny whisper-shouted, ending your momentary flashback. “I think that’s them!”

The Gryffindor team filed out into the stadium to be instantly met with a cacophony of loud cheers and applause. Your throat was already starting to hurt from screaming alongside the seas of blazing red and gold, though the match had yet to begin. 

Without even realizing it, you found your eyes scanning the area for a particular ginger-haired Beater, and the tension you didn’t even know you had in your shoulders loosened as soon as you saw him. 

“You’re not even playing, yet I’d say you’re as big of a mess as poor Ronald,” Hermione chuckled lightly. “Concerned for someone?”

“Oh shut up,” you muttered, tightening Fred’s scarf around your neck just a bit more. “It’s the last match of the year—I’m just as nervous as everyone else. I need to see someone beat Malfoy’s egotistical arse to a pulp.”

Both her and Ginny snorted at this. 

“You’re right…but that’s not who I was referring to,” your best friend reminded you. 

You rolled your eyes. “Uh huh.”

“Don’t you think you care a little too much? More than a friend should?”

“No,” you stated flatly. But Hermione knew this was a lie—after all, she had known you for five years now and could tell when you were lying. She watched as you fiddled with the ends of the colorful scarf around your neck—a flash of something caught her eye, and she squinted to see F.W. embroidered in delicate gold. 

Of course you were being serious, she chuckled to herself. She decided to not say anything about why you had Fred’s scarf on, and instead joked, “Do you think he or Ron’ll make it without getting a concussion?” 

“Now that’s hard to say…” you began, knowing how the two boys were sometimes often quite clumsy. “Fingers are crossed that my Fred will be just fine.”

“Your Fred? What about Ron?” she raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you care about both of them?”

“—Both of them will be just fine,” you quickly corrected yourself. “They’ll be alright.”

“Okay…” she said, unconvinced that your reply wasn’t just a slip of the tongue. 

Turning your attention back to the game, you heard Lee Jordan’s classic, enthusiastic voice echo across the grounds. “Welcome to the last Quidditch match of the YEAR! We have quite the game in store today, Gryffindor versus Slytherin…” 

Eventually, after the captains shook hands and everyone mounted their brooms, Madam Hooch blew her whistle and released the balls into the air. Loud cheers filled the stadium once again, and all fourteen players shot up into the sky. You were only really focusing on one thing—or person, really. It seemed that you couldn’t take your eyes off him. 

“—aaand that’s a Bludger to the head from Fred Weasley, ouch, that’s gotta hurt…There goes Katie Bell, making a swift pass over to Johnson…there’s Johnson with the Quaffle! And then, ,there he goes…Fred Weasley does it AGAIN! Malfoy gets a hard Bludger to the back—”

Right then, Fred caught your eye and winked. You sent back a shy wave in response. 

Everyone tries their best to ignore the Slytherin section’s jeering taunts and chants of Weasley Is Our King. You didn’t need to look over to know Ron was hardly taking it. 

From there on out it was a blur of motion, noise, and loud sounds, and before you knew it, the match was over and done. 

“—GRYFFINDOR WINS! WITH WEASLEY’S GAME-WINNING BLOCK AND POTTER’S SHEER SPEED, THEY WIN!” The excitement is clear in Lee’s voice. “GRYFFINDOR WINS THE QUIDDITCH CUP!”

The crowd went wild again as Fred made his downward descent. As soon as the tips of his shoes touched the grass he jumped off and immediately rushed over to you as fast as his feet would take him.

Your head was spinning and you could barely tell what was going on amidst the ground-shaking noise and overall chaos. But there he was in front of you now, sweaty and tired but grinning wildly nonetheless as he brought you into a tight embrace. He started spinning you around and you couldn’t help but join in on his contagious laughter. 

“There’s my good luck charm,” he whispered into your ear as he set you down, breath fanning against the skin behind your ear. 

Having no words left except pure joy, you shook your head and smiled as you leaned into him, squeezing him back even tighter. “I’m so proud of you.”

Both of you were too busy to notice that your friends around you had stopped congratulating the other players and chattering with one another, their eyes now on you two. Ginny, Harry, and Hermione exchanged a look, and Ron, amidst his nerves and exhaustion, cracked a grin as he watched his older brother and best friend savoring a moment with each other. 

Hopefully, they’ll realize it for themselves…he thought. Amidst the chaos of the past year, he knew that all of them—especially the two of you—deserved a bit of peace more than anything. 

summer

“Last one there is a rotten egg and has to take the soddy backup broom!” Ginny shouted. You all immediately broke into a sprint at this, scrambling to go outside for yet another round of backyard Quidditch. Harry damn near tripped over his own feet as he and Ron tried pushing over each other to squeeze out the back door. Fred and George were doing the same thing, and you and Hermione used this chance to sneak past them. You silently high-fived each other at this.

“Boys will be boys…” she laughed quietly, linking your arm through hers as you continued walking across the meadow, the grass brushing against the fabric of your trousers. “There’s no catching a break around here.”

Lo and behold, poor Ron was forced to take the backup broom, grumbling the entire time as everyone put their gear on. “I hate you guys. Haven’t I been through enough already?”

Everyone took turns being the score-keeper, and this time it was Hermione (she had also been score-keeper the last two rounds as she was a bit tired, and didn’t really mind). She sat down under the giant apple tree as she chose the teams. 

“Harry, George, and Fred!” she called out. “Versus the rest of you.” 

“That’s so not fair!” Ron complained. “You have two Beaters and the—”

“—youngest Seeker in a century on one team,” Harry finished his sentence with a cheeky grin.

Ron rolled his eyes. “At least I’m with you, Y/N…I guess…”

“Thanks for the compliment, Ronald,” you said with a slight hint of sarcasm. 

It was only a few minutes in the match when Fred found himself distracted. He was supposed to be on guard, but his eyes kept wandering over to you, zipping around on your broom with ease, gliding through the air like a bird. He wondered when he stopped seeing you as just his ‘best friend’ and started seeing you as someone who made his heart beat faster; someone who he desperately wanted to see smile because that’s all he needed to make his entire day. 

“Awe, come on, Freddie, get your head back in the game!” you called out to him in a teasing voice as he just barely blocked a flying Bludger hurtling towards his face. “Don’t wanna be slammed into, now do you?”

He shook his head and quickly snapped out of it. “Of course not.”

“Blimey, Fred! You nearly gave yourself another concussion there from ogling at her!” George exclaimed. 

“I can’t help but be charming,” you joked, sending Fred a wink. “Enjoy the view while you can!”

It was only mid-morning/barely afternoon by the time you finished the last match, but if anything, your sore muscles told you that it felt like days had passed. Adrenaline was still thrumming in your veins as everyone headed in, laughing at the thrill of flying through the skies without a care in the world. 

“Remember that losers have to make lunch!” Harry reminded.

Ginny groaned. “Come on. Way to ruin the vibe.”

You, her, and Ron all let out long sighs before heading straight to the kitchen to whip something up for the six of you. Food bets needed to stop…

After a quick meal of sandwiches, everyone headed back outside to play more rounds of backyard Quidditch. You opted to stay in this time around; the dull ache in your shoulders and lower back telling you you’d had enough for the day. One cold shower and some quiet work helping Mr. Weasley organize his home office later, you slumped onto the sofa.

The remainder of the afternoon and evening went by slowly but peacefully. Eventually, you found yourselves sitting around on the living room floor, playing board games well into the night while the crickets chirped outside. The days were long, and cracking jokes and long talks came much easier than they normally did. Of course, Fred sat next to you the entire time, finding a way to be touching you in one way or another no matter what. Shoulders pressed together closely, fingers tracing patterns into your palms, a hand rubbing your back. 

Harry gulps down his mug of butterbeer before launching into a dramatic retelling of when Professor Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret, earning roars of laughter and “That git deserved it” from all around. Fred follows up with the first time him and George tested prototypes of their Puking Pastilles, which ended with a delirious Lee Jordan and Ron’s face turning greener than mandrake leaves (much to Mrs. Weasley’s horror—she sent both twins death glares at this). 

You were too busy losing it to notice an arm—Fred’s—snaking around your waist, pulling you into his side. But when you did realize it was him, you didn’t say anything, and just simply relaxed against him. It was second nature to you both; you’ve learned to anticipate him sliding up next to you. And, it was comforting to know that he would always be nearby.

Despite being the last one to go to bed, Fred was the first one awake before dawn had even broken over the horizon. The skies were clear but grey, and the roosters had yet to make a sound. 

“Wake up,” you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“Whaddayawant,” you groaned, voice groggy. “Listen Ron, it’s too early to play Quidditch, tell Wood that you want to go for a round instead…”

“Hey, it’s only me,” Fred replied. “Come on, I’ve got something to show you.”

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you got up, being careful not to step on Hermione or Ginny’s hands or arms on the way out the door. He kept a hand pressed against the small of your back the entire way down the creaky staircase. 

“Ta-da…” he whispered, the classic Weasley grin spreading across his face. “Take a look at this beauty.”

“A…record player?” your brows furrowed in confusion. “This is what you woke me up at 4 a.m. for?” 

“Dad got it at this old Muggle store in central London years ago, he said it was a ‘thrift shop,’” Fred explained as your eyes glanced over the cracked, but beautiful record player on the kitchen table. “D’you reckon it still works, though?” 

“We’ll have to see for ourselves,” you shrugged. 

He placed the vinyl CD into the player and adjusted the needle, and within seconds a slow Muggle tune began to play. 

“Oh, I know this one…Hermione has told me about it before. Frank Sinatra is quite famous in the Muggle musical world.”

“Well, then…may I have this dance?” Fred extended a hand out to you. You shake your head and roll your eyes, but take his hand and allow him to pull you close. His arms wrap around your torso as your hands rest on his shoulders, and you allow yourselves to get carried away by the slow, melodic ballad.

My love, do you know That your eyes are like stars brightly beaming? I bring you, and I sing you  A moonlight serenade

Fred gently twirls you around the kitchen before bringing you back in and smoothly catching you by the waist, and you’re surprised at how easy it is for him. You often forgot that he had a knack for dancing—it wasn’t often that you got to see him do so. 

“And you were about to be upset at me for waking you up,” he leans in to say. 

“You’re forgiven,” you exhale, resting your head against his chest. “But you know I could never be upset with you.” 

Long after the song had ended, you still found yourself wrapped in his embrace.  

Mrs. Weasley was heading downstairs to start preparing breakfast, but suddenly stopped midway. Her heart warmed as she took in the sight of you and Fred standing in the middle of the kitchen, eyes closed as he hummed a foreign tune, slow dancing without a care in the world. 

Deciding not to interrupt, she stands there for a moment, smiling as she watched her boy fall in love with the young woman that she hoped to call her daughter one day. 

fall

“—Godric’s sake, I’m so tired of losing,” Ron groaned as you quickly smacked the top of the deck with your wand, dust flying into his face. “I’m never playing this with you again.” 

You rolled your eyes as he coughed and dusted himself off. “Okay, no Exploding Snap, then no more sweets from Honeydukes ever again.” 

“Fine, I’m playing, I’m playing,” he sighed, rubbing the side of his forehead as the colorful deck of cards reshuffled themselves. “You’re almost as horrible as my brother.”

“Almost as horrible as who—hey, Y/N, is that my jumper?” Fred paused as he approached you and Ron sitting at the coffee table, as Luna, Neville, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny watched on. 

“Dunno, is it?” you shrugged innocently, tapping your chin. “Hey, Nev, you want a go? I have to finish reading my book for McGonagall’s class.”

Neville nodded, and Ron raised a fist in triumph. “FINALLY! Bring it on, Longbottom.”

You shifted onto the couch so Neville could take your spot, and without another word, Fred sat down right next to you. The deep burgundy color of his Gryffindor sweater only further brought out the color of your eyes, he noticed, which sparkled brightly under the dim lighting. 

Fred then shifted to lay his head down in your lap, and you didn’t even do so much as flinch. With your book in one hand, you used the other to start brushing your fingers through his hair. You hadn’t even realized what you were doing until you heard him let out a quiet sigh of contentment. 

“Did I ever tell you that you’re absolutely brilliant?” he glanced up at you from where he lay, watching carefully and intently. “Sometimes I’m surprised that you weren’t sorted into Ravenclaw.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Weasley,” you laughed softly as you turned the page. 

Right as you were about to turn the page again, he stopped you by lightly tugging your wrist. “Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“What are you talking about?”

He carefully turned your hand to look at the scratches etched into the back of it. They were beginning to fade, but the occasional shifts in movement would cause them to sting and sometimes crack open. 

“When did Umbridge do this to you?” Something unfamiliar flashed in Fred’s eyes, and he seemed angry for the briefest of moments. But the darkened look was quickly replaced with one of concern. “Does it still hurt?”

“No, not at all,” you lied as you set down your book, but he didn’t miss the way you winced slightly as he adjusted your hand to look at it again. 

The rest of your friends had scattered elsewhere at this point, the typical noise now having faded into a soft chatter of sorts. Hermione came back with a bowl of yellow liquid, eyeing you worriedly. “Strained and pickled Murtlap tentacles…these should help…”

“Oh…thank you…” You placed your hand into the bowl and immediately exhaled with relief. 

“I think I’m going to sleep a little early tonight…I’ll see you two at breakfast? Take it easy, Y/N,” Hermione gave your shoulder a squeeze. You nodded as she gave you one last smile and walked away. 

Once the pain had faded into a dull ache, you set the bowl of murtlap on the table and leaned back against the sofa. Fred was now laser-focused on something he was holding, fiddling with it using what looked like a small pair of tweezers. Assuming that it had to do with the joke shop he and George were working on, you paid it no mind, and picked up your copy of Guide to Advanced Transfiguration again. 

You were far too absorbed into your book to notice when Fred had slipped whatever that thing was onto your finger. It was cold to the touch but fit snugly. 

“D’you like it?”

“What is…” You put your book away and glanced down, about to say something half-sarcastic, but immediately stopped. 

It had to have been the most beautiful ring you had seen. Although it was slightly on the thinner side, it glittered brighter than any star you had ever seen. You twisted your hand this way and that as you watched the material catch the light. 

“...You know my ring size,” your voice trailed off as you took notice of the hopeful look in Fred’s eyes. “But what is this for? You know we’re—”

“For when the time comes,” he explained simply, raising your scarred right hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss there. His gaze on you remained steady and comforting in the same way that his presence made you feel. “You’ll wait for me, won’t you?”

Tears prickled at the edges of your eyes, and you nodded, feeling a sudden lump form in your throat. You were filled with a warmth that you knew had nothing to do with the blazing fire in front of you. “You know there’s no one else.”

How your best friend could make your chest ache in this way, you had no clue…For some odd reason, you thought, it wasn’t all that difficult to picture a future with him in it. 

Not when he was your future. You loved him, no doubt, but when it came to describing your exact relationship all words fell short. You were close friends, but was it in the same way that you and Hermione were friends? Or you and Ginny? 

But he’s my best friend, you told yourself. He’s been my best friend for over six years. 

But ‘best friends’ don’t make you feel the way that Fred does. 

Best friends went beyond just saving you a seat at the Great Hall if you woke up late for breakfast or slept through lunch because of a long nap. They didn’t pull you away on Hogsmeade trips and insist on hanging out with you one-on-one when you could very well just hang out together as one big group with all your friends. 

They definitely didn’t fashion you a ring by hand in the middle of one quiet fall night, but he did. 

“Earth to Y/N?”

“Hm…what?”

“You okay? You seemed a little spaced out there, love,” Fred raised a brow at you as he sat up, taking your hand in his. 

“Just…thinking,” you hummed, letting your head lean against his shoulder. He pulled you into his side at this, tenderly brushing his lips against your forehead. 

“About how I’m your favorite person on the planet and that I’m loads funnier than Georgie?”

“As if you’d ever be the only thing on my mind.”

Fred pouted, his bottom lip sticking out. “Ouch. That hurt.”

“I’m kidding,” you glanced up at him, pouting slightly. “You’ll never leave my mind. I’m holding you hostage.”

“And that’s a sentence I’d want to extend for as long as I could,” he responded. 

Voldemort's return and the premise of another war loomed overhead. But he found that when your warm hand slipped into his, body leaning in close, and your laughter ringing through the air like shooting stars, it was easy for him to forget. To fall into you and feel as if you're the only thing that mattered in this world because frankly, you were.

winter

There was one big thing to look forward to today: another Hogsmeade outing. The final weekend trip before Christmas was always a little bittersweet, but filled with the most pure joy. 

The Great Hall was decked out from ceiling to floor as it always was during the holiday season. Bits of snow delicately floated down from the crystalline ceiling as the classic giant Christmas tree stood tall behind the staff table. You stopped every few seconds to admire the decorations despite having been here for nearly seven years now and seeing (and even having helped one time) the grandiose setup.

Excited chatter filled every table as you went over to the Gryffindor table to sit with your friends. Ron was already piling his plate with food, grinning excitedly as he did so. 

“Where’s Fred?” you asked as you sat down next to George. 

“Already missing your lover boy?” the younger twin teased. “He’ll be down in a sec. The lazy arse overslept so Lee went to drag him down here.” 

“Oh, okay…” You paused for a moment. “Wait, he’s not my—”

You felt someone squeeze your shoulder behind you before pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head, stopping you from finishing your sentence. 

“Morning, my love,” Fred greeted casually as he slid into the spot next to you, seemingly oblivious to the stares he got from his gesture. “You sleep okay?”

“Merlin’s beard, Fred, when are ‘ou going ‘o admid it?” Ron groaned, in the middle of chewing his third drumstick. 

“Yeah, when?” Ginny echoed. “I’m going to hex you if you don’t.”

“Tell me what?” you tilted your head to the side as you glanced between them. 

“Oh, uh, nothing!” she said quickly. 

“Nothing!” Fred grinned sheepishly. Ginny sharply jabbed an elbow into his side. “OW!” 

You rolled your eyes, deciding not to question the odd exchange. 

Fred placed a soft hand on your thigh, using his other to swipe a croissant from your plate. 

“Hey!” 

“You know you love me,” he teased. 

“Shut up,” you muttered, feeling your face burn, a smile crept up on your face nonetheless. You continued eating, his hand remaining in place, and pretended like you didn’t mind what he was doing. 

You exited Hogwarts to flurries of snow blowing around, adjusting your hat and (Fred’s) scarf accordingly to protect your face from the biting winds. Hogsmeade was relatively quiet today, so you took every second you had to relish in the peace. 

“Godric, you’re freezing,” Fred’s bright smile turned into a slight frown when he noticed you were shivering, rubbing your gloved hands together. “Here.”

He shook off his coat and handed it to you, helping you put it on by holding the sleeves out. You let out an involuntary sigh of relief once the warmth enveloped your body.

“T-thanks, but aren’t you gonna get c—”

“Trust me, I’ll be alright,” he assured you, squeezing your hands. “Don’t want to get sick before Christmas, right?” 

You managed a nod, and he casually slung an arm across your shoulders. “You’re the best.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” he grinned. “Now come on, I think we have some drinks waiting for us.” 

As always, he had pulled you away from your friend group to “spend extra special time with the coolest and funniest girl in the world” and though you rolled your eyes at this, you allowed him to take the lead. (You weren’t complaining.)

Maybe it was the snow, maybe it was the added heat from Fred’s jacket, or maybe it was something else, but you were in an unusually good mood today. Fred noticed how you smiled more than usual, eagerly tugging his hand as you pulled him from shop to shop. 

“Y/N…you’ll drain my pockets,” he groaned as you stopped in front of Honeyduke’s, positively beaming. “And you’ll rot my teeth.”

“Please…?” you begged. “I’ll die if I don’t get a bag.”

“Y/N, love, come on…” But seeing the blissful and innocent twinkle in your eyes made it damn near impossible for him to say no. “Alright, fine. Pick out what you want, it’s on me.”

“You’re the best!” you squeezed his arm before heading into the shop together, hand in hand. “This is why I love you.”

“Ow? Placing my worth based on how many sweet treats I am willing to bestow upon you?” Fred feigned offense at your statement. “But it’s okay. I love you too.” 

Half an hour later, you were walking out of the sweet shop with a bag filled to the brim, and Fred was magically several Galleons lighter.

The two of you were only a three-minute walk from the castle grounds when the wind started to pick up. What was once a light snowy drizzle had suddenly turn into a full-blown blizzard, obscuring your vision for meters. 

“I can’t even—I can’t see a thing!” you yelled over the whipping winds, trying to shield your face. “Fred, where are you?” 

“Right behind you,” he murmured, circling an arm around your middle. “Don’t worry.” 

But then, you felt something cold and icy slip down your jumper. 

“Fred Weasley!” you yelled as he ran away, laughing with another clump of snow in hand. “You get back here right this instant before I kick your arse—” 

You lunged forward and went sprinting after him, well, as fast as you could through the thick blankets of snow. Fred’s laugh echoed through the frigid air as you rolled up a giant snowball and chucked it at him. It hit him square in the back and he nearly fell from the impact. 

The blizzard added an extra layer of difficulty, but you were determined to win by sheer talent and not take the easy way out with magic. 

Your arms began to ache from forming and throwing snowball after snowball, and you were sure that you’d be getting bruises all over your body (especially from one particularly hard hit between your shoulder blades when you’d been distracted). But seeing Fred so blissfully happy made it worth it—for a split second, you could pretend you were both thirteen again, no worries in the world except for beating each other in Quidditch. 

“Okay, this is so over!” you shouted as you chased him over a small hill and finally jumped on his back to tackle him, causing him to fall face first into the snow. 

“You absolute—” he began, voice muffled. “Ow.”

He fell silent for a few seconds and stopped moving, causing you to worry. “Freddie, you alright? Fred!”

After you panicked for a few more seconds, Fred finally flipped over, clutching his stomach as he laughed at you. “You actually thought I was hurt?” 

“It’s not funny!” you exclaimed in a high-pitched tone. Your face flushed as you realized you practically sitting on him and awkwardly shifted off, opting to kneel by his side as he sat up. “What if you actually were? I’d like to be the one that heals you, not hurts you, thank you very much!”

He smirked. “Aw, so you were worried about me. You care, don’t you?”

“Shut it, I do not,” you scoffed. 

His eyes trailed down your ring, which still shone so brightly, as you absentmindedly fiddled with it. 

“...I think you’re missing a little something, don’t you think? Or maybe it’s me that is,” he said so quietly that you almost missed what he’d said. “A diamond, perhaps….”

“A diamond?” your voice came out in the tiniest of whispers as well. “I think you’d look alright in a little silver…”

Fred then cupped your face in his hands, which forced you to look back up at him. He gently grazed his thumbs over your cheekbones and there was now what seemed like a look of longing in his bright hazel eyes. He’d always gazed at you admiringly but that was because he was your best friend, you told yourself (a lie that, time and time again, you’d try and fail over the years to convince yourself of). Best friends loved and cared for each other, that’s what they’re supposed to do. 

But here he was, making you feel things that a friend normally didn’t. And you didn’t even try to push him away because you didn’t want him to leave; you never wanted him to. 

He finally closed the ever-decreasing gap between you two and kissed you, capturing your lips in his. You buried a hand in his messy hair and pulled him closer; as close as you possibly could, desperate for the way he made you feel so alive because he was the one thing keeping you anchored to the ground. 

IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou, he says over and over. You swore you’d explode, feeling him smile against your lips, tugging you even closer. 

the in-between

The chasm of grief, so cold and uninviting, seemed to open up and swallow you whole. 

You hated war. You hated watching the blood of innocent people being shed by the ruthless works of evil. You hated that you had survived while so many you had grown to know and love didn’t. They’re just kids. They’re too young. They didn’t deserve to die the way they did. They’re just kids. They’re just kids. 

You weren’t sure how you even survived. 

As soon as you locked eyes with each other, you, Harry, Ron, Luna, Ginny, Hermione, Neville, Dean, Seamus, and Parvati collapsed into one giant hug on the floor, tightly clutching one another. You had all been incredibly lucky to have made it through together.

Fred’s eyes carefully scanned the room, searching for a familiar face. When he saw you there in the corner, eyes squeezed shut and clinging to your best friends, he wanted nothing more than to approach and comfort you. But he knew you all needed this time together—you had lost many loved ones, and they were some of the only family you had left. So he let you be, leaning against the wall and watching from afar. 

Over the next hour or so, people slowly started trickling out of the Great Hall—parents coming to pick up their kids, families reuniting—until it was just you, Harry, Hermione, Lupin, Tonks, Sirius, Fleur, and the Weasleys. There was an unspoken feeling of gratitude lingering in the air and you could sense the relief all-around. 

Your heart clenched as you watched Harry embrace his godfather. Your mother had died when you were young and your father had suffered a similar fate as the Longbottoms, so watching families reunite always sent a spear through your chest. 

“Hey,” you heard, feeling someone intertwine their fingers with yours. You didn’t need to look over to know it was Fred. “Sickle for your thoughts? Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Leaning into him, you closed your eyes, attempting to will the tears away. “I don’t…I don’t know.  I just hate war. While I’m glad this is over, I can’t help but think how unfair it all is. People losing each other, being torn apart…Voldemort’s gone, I know, but it just feels like he took a part of me to the grave with him.”

“I hope it’s not the part that made you fall in love with me,” Fred joked, and the corners of your lips quirked up in a grin.

“Of course not…” you murmured, “you’d have to pry your heart out of my cold, dead hands to try and take it from me. I’m here now, whether you like it or not.”

“For good?” 

“For good,” you stated, reaching up to kiss him softly. “I love you.”

“And you know I love you more.”

epilogue (it’s a new spring with you)  

With the Dark Lord gone, there were many loose ends to tie up and much-deserved resting to do. You had stayed behind to help start with cleaning up the castle grounds, before deciding to take the Hogwarts Express back home all togehter—for old time’s sake. 

“What about the shop?” you asked George as you sat down between him and Fred. “Don’t you two need to be there?” 

“We reckon it’ll be just fine—it’s not just us there anymore, remember?” he said, “but, Freddie thought you were more important. That’s why we’re here.”

Resting your head against his chest, you gazed up at Fred and smiled. “You left for me?” 

“You know all that I do is for you,” he explained as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Ew my teeth, they’re going to rot from the cheesy sweetness,” Ron groaned. “You’d think that the war would wipe all that out.” 

“Oh shut it, Ronald,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Let them live.” 

You drifted off and slept through the entire ride home, feeling a tad bit more refreshed when pulling in to King’s Cross station. It was a blur from there: taking the Floo network, carrying bags, washing up, and whatnot. You felt as if you were on autopilot with a barely functioning Muggle battery. All you wanted was to collapse on the floor and sleep forever, but you wanted to sit around the living room floor with your friends and catch up like you always did during the summer. 

Lupin and Tonks had gone home to take care of Teddy while the rest of you were settling in. Chatter filled the Burrow as you spent time unpacking, and you found that you’d missed all the noise more than you initially thought. Dinner was an equally chaotic but also peaceful affair, filled with plenty of toasts, extra servings, and laughter, of course. 

While Sirius was busy telling the table about the Mauraders’ antics, Fred squeezed your hand, jerking his head behind him to indicate that he wanted to go out back. 

Now? What is it? you mouthed. 

Fred nodded. Yes, now, so come on. 

He took your hand and led you out the back door to the orchards, crescent moon shining overhead. A faint smile graced your face as you thought back to the days you spent together under the giant apple tree, reading stories from Hermione’s books to one another, skipping stones by the lake, and tending to the chickens. 

A familiar tune started drifting through the air, and Fred extended a hand towards you.

“May I have this dance?”

You were immediately hit with a wave of déjà vu at his question, and allowed him to sweep you up into his arms. He placed his hands on your waist and you felt sparks shoot up your spine at his touch. Your arms wound their way around his neck as you swayed to the melody, losing yourselves in a dreamy lullaby. Though you had done this with him before on several occasions, it still felt like you were falling in love all over again. 

You swallowed hard as you thought about how you had both been forced to grow up so fast. Moments like these—of pure bliss and childlike innocence—were far and few between, so they were to be greatly cherished. It was easy when he was twirling you around like this; effortlessly guiding your motions, to forget that anything and anyone else existed. 

Closing your eyes, you focused on the feeling of his warm hands through your sweater and the soothing sound of his soft hums, allowing them to carry you away. 

At one point, he briefly stops before spinning you outwards—but this time, he doesn’t pull you back in to catch you. You’re about to be confused but then, you turn around to see him down on one knee, a glittering diamond ring in hand. You froze in place, completely shocked. 

“A diamond, perhaps…” you echoed, recalling that one winter night when you had kissed him for the first time, feeling like your heart was going to explode out of your chest. 

“It’s always been you,” said Fred in a simple, soft tone of voice. “Always has been and always will be.”

Your eyes began to water. “You’re bloody kidding me…”

“Y/N, I know I joke around a lot—hell, I opened a whole shop with Georgie…but one thing I’ve never joked about is the way I feel about you.”

“Fred…”

“...Will you marry me?”

You opened and closed your mouth but no words seemed to come out. All you could manage was a small nod before tears fully blurred your vision and you stepped forward, hand shaking as he slid the diamond ring on. 

When his lips brushed against yours, time seemed to splutter to a stop, and you felt your weary heart slowly but steadily stitch itself back together. 

Except, he was the one holding the needle and telling you that there was no need to be anxious or scared because he’d be by your side for the rest of your life. 

So don't let me wait Come to me tenderly in the June night I stand at your gate And I sing you a song in the moonlight A love song, my darling A moonlight serenade

tags: @htchnr @arkofblake @xhanthexzoria @antriimx @pinkdaiisies @lovely-whale-is-lovely