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weelittleweasley · 4 years ago

Text

countdown (f.w.)

prompt: a new year on the horizon. new plans, new start, new love? maybe for some, but fred weasley is absolutely hung up on the girl he’s fancied since he graduated from hogwarts years ago.

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

warnings: drinking and just some cute fred fluff!

word count: 5.5k

a/n: honestly, the timeline of this is whenever fred and george graduated from hogwarts, but also the golden trio?? but also i don't know?? amuse me and pretend like you know what’s going on because i sure dont LMAOOOO anyway here’s wonderwall...

The Burrow was at max capacity, housing not only the majority of the Weasley family, but Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and you, of course. It was holiday break for Hogwarts and Molly insisted on having over all of Ronald’s friends as well as friends from Fred and George’s time at Hogwarts. The gesture was more than kind, but it did make for tight quarters having four more extra guests in the house. However, the Weasley’s always found a way to make things work; Hermione stayed with Ginny in her room, Harry in Ron’s room, while you delightfully stayed in Bill and Charlie’s vacant room. It was a full house to say the least. And a full house meant lots of hustle and bustle.

Today was a rather special day, more so to Hermione than anyone else. It was New Year’s Eve. The most exciting of all holidays according to the young witch Granger. The holiday was celebrated in the Weasley household, but Hermione insisted that there should be a large celebration this year. Lots of lights, fun games, and the suggestion of a fire works show peaked Fred and George’s interest a lot more...

You weren’t going to lie. It all sounded fun to you. The only thing that made your heart skip a beat was the proposal of the New Year’s kiss. “It’s a tradition that you have to kiss someone when the clock strikes midnight. It supposed to be for good luck and happiness in the new year,” Hermione beamed on the couch, a blushing Ronald Weasley next to her. “I mean, I’ve never had a new year’s kiss, but maybe this year things may change...” she trails off, side-eyeing Ron as he shifts in his seat, uncomfortable about all of the eyes on him.

A new year’s kiss. How was this supposed to play out? Ron would surely kiss Hermione, Harry would kiss Ginny, and you? You were friends with Fred and George. Simply friends. Nothing more, nothing less. You became fast friends when you were at Hogwarts and kept in touch after your graduation, but nothing ever blossomed romantically from those friendships (unfortunately).

Although you were mates, Fred Weasley always did something to you. You knew he had the reputation of being the boy who played around with girls until he was done and you knew he had a history of romance with your close friend, Alicia, but still your feelings for him remained no matter how many signs pointed to no. Fred was quite the catch; charming, funny, handsome, witty, and clever. He was nothing short of what you wanted. But you told yourself constantly whilst in school with him, “If he wanted to, he would have.” Since Fred never made a move on you in school, you decided for the both of you that a relationship or any kind of romance wasn’t in the cards for you. Your relationship was strictly platonic much to your dismay.

However, you weren’t going to let the thought of you not having someone to kiss on New Year’s get you down. The celebration would be fun. You had good company, good food, and you were certain the twins had something fun up their sleeves.

New Year’s Eve rolled around quickly and preparations for nightfall were beginning. Hermione hung up shimmery gold and silver garland around the house as Ron blew up balloons, face growing red from blowing up so many. Harry tied strings to the balloons, laughing as Ron went red in the face from blowing them up. Ginny helped her mother in the kitchen, cooking dinner for the occasion. Fred and George on the other hand....

“(Y/N)! Could you come out here and give me a hand?” George calls from outside the Burrow as you follow the sound of his voice.

Outside, he stands around a troff of trunks, bags, and suitcases. Most of them labelled fragile or dangerous. Your eyes widen, “Woah, Georgie, where did you get all of this stuff?” you laugh, looking around at the mess of things in front of you.

George beams, “Storage from the joke shoppe. A bunch of this stuff is from overstock that Fred and I have. Lots of fireworks, gizmos, noise makers, etcetera. Fred is back at the shoppe gathering more things. In the meantime, I need you to help me sort through what we are using and what we can get rid of.”

You nod, knowing that you would certainly have your work cut out for you. George flings a trunk open which spurts out bright blue smoke and stinks of something absolutely rotten. The two of you exclaim, blowing away the smoke, coughing at its smell. “George, what exactly are in these boxes? A dead animal? ‘Cause that’s what it smells like,” you cough.

The tall ginger slams the trunk closed and turns to you. “Maybe let’s just work on the fireworks, shall we? Sort them by color and type?” he asks as you nod. “Brilliant. First pile,” he grabs a sack and dumps it on the ground as you two sit on the cold grass, sorting through multiple colored tubes of fireworks, each labelled differently. “So,” George huffs. “You looking forward to tonight?”

“I guess so,” you speak as you create a pile of fireworks labelled Big Ones Be Careful. “A new year. A fresh start. All very exciting I guess.” George laughs at your comment as he sorts other fireworks. “What? What’s so funny? Did I say something?”

George looks at you from under his eyelashes before shaking his head. “(Y/N), dear, I love you so much. But you are quite daft, aren’t you?” His comment makes you fling a firework canister at him as he yelps. “Careful with those! Don’t you see they are labelled Be Careful! Godric, you are daft...”

You groan, “Why am I daft? What’s the name calling for, you fatheaded idiot.”

Your best friend looks up at you. “Okay, first of all that was rude,” he states as you giggle, him soon joining in. “Second of all, you can’t tell me that you’re not excited about the new year and not the new year’s kiss,” he explains. You furrow your brows, confused about what he could be talking about. “(Y/N)...come on, you can’t be that blind.”

“Blind about what? There’s someone in that house that wants to kiss me on New Year’s? You’re out of your bloody mind,” you scoff, standing up to move to another pile of fireworks labelled, Fred--Do Not Touch. You laugh at the label before you sort them into colors.

George mumbles, “Well, he isn’t in that house at the moment.” You flip your head to look at him, knowing he said something facetious. “Losersayswhat.”

“What?” you say.

George laughs, “Hah, works every time.” You groan as you continue to make your way through the pile of fireworks, not wanting to get distracted by George’s side comments. This news of someone wanting to be your new year’s kiss was getting on your nerves. Who else was there? Percy? And Merlin knows that you could not be paid enough galleons to kiss Percy Weasley. “I’m serious, though, (Y/N), you can’t be telling me that you don’t know that Fred hasn’t fancied you since forever ago.”

This comment makes you stop everything you are doing and turn towards George. You let the fireworks fall from your hands as you stare at him in disbelief. “Don’t play with me, George,” you warn him as he holds his hands up in defense. “We have been mates since we were eleven and all of a sudden you tell me that your twin brother, one of my best mates, fancies me?” you slowly encroach onto George.

He rises from his place on the grass and walks to you. “I’m just trying to say that good ol’ Freddie always thought you were cute and he might make a move tonight. That’s all. I’m being my brother’s wingman and your best friend. Can’t I just do that?” he explains calmly.

You grab his arms, shaking him. “You cannot just drop a bomb on me like that and expect me to have a perfectly fine reaction, George!” you exclaim. “Don’t you know that Fred and I are just friends? I told you this multiple times! I told you that my crush on him faded as soon as we graduated from Hogwarts! That’s behind me.”

As you look at George desperately, he grabs onto your shoulders. “And you mean to tell me that you don’t fancy him right now? If Fred Weasley, my brother, came up to you right now and kissed you and told you that he’s fancied you for years, you would reject him?” George asks. Your face softens as you give his comment some thought. George was right. You would kiss Fred back with all your might and confess that you really liked him too and you were waiting for this moment for a while. Your silence explains everything that George needs to know. “Exactly. So when the clock strikes midnight and you see Fred next to you, don’t be a coward,” George teases you before walking back to his station of organizing fireworks.

You are left standing there, still processing what was happening. Fred Weasley was going to kiss you when the clock struck midnight. It was happening. This was really happening. And how romantic it would all be. New Year’s Eve, your first kiss with Fred, in the moonlight underneath a fireworks show. And then it struck you, “Hey George?” He hums in response. “The fireworks show tonight. You and Fred are putting it on still, right?”

“Of course we are. Who else would? Ronald? Could you imagine the disaster that would be?” George laughs at the thought of his childish brother trying to set off fireworks all while balancing himself on his broomstick. “Why do you ask?”

Taking a seat next to George on the grass, you say, “Then how is he supposed to get back down from setting off the fireworks to kiss me at midnight exactly?”

George’s face twists in confusion for a second before thinking out the problem. “Huh,” he speaks. “I mean, I’m not sure, but I’m sure it’s going to happen,” he assures you. “Fred always finds a way. Come on, it’s Fred. When he likes a girl, he likes a girl. And you, (Y/N), my dearest, he likes. I wouldn’t worry yourself sick,” he nudges your arm as you exhale the breath you were holding. “Now come on, we still have much more sorting to do before Fred gets back with even more garbage.”

-----------------

Hours later and you’re in Ginny’s room, getting ready for the party. Hermione brushed through Ginny’s hair as she coated her lashes in mascara. You on the other hand stood in front of multiple skirts, dresses, and tops, struggling to decide what to wear. You groan in frustration as you peel off a glittery gold top of Hermione’s and toss it on the bed gently. “Nothing looks right,” you huff as Hermione turns around.

“I thought that one was lovely on you!” she exclaims as you flop on Ginny’s bed, staring at the ceiling. It may have been lovely, but it was perfect. If tonight was going to go the way George had described, you needed to make sure that you looked outrageous in the best way possible. You wanted Fred counting down the minutes until midnight. “Something’s wrong, I can see it on your face,” Hermione points out as Ginny turns to look at you. “You can tell us if you’d like.”

You offer them both a small smile as you run your fingers over your face and through your hair. “It’s honestly stupid,” you chuckle. “George has, um...informed me...that I might be receiving a new year’s kiss this year...from Fred,” you confide to the girls in a hushed whisper.

You expected both of them to freak out with excitement or exclaim how exciting it was. Instead they looked at you, confused as to why you were just figuring this out now. “Well, yes, we all knew this. Fred’s had a massive crush on you for years,” Ginny simply states before sailing back into the mirror, reapplying her mascara.

Mouth agape, you exclaim, “Does everyone know about this and not me?!”

Hermione sadly shakes her head, “Even Ron knew about it. And that’s saying something.” You groan and flop backwards again on the bed in frustration. How come everyone knew about this and you didn’t? How come you had to surprise and hide your feelings for Fred for years when in reality he felt the same way about you all this time? “Well, we didn’t know for sure if you fancied him too since you were always so adamant that you two were just friends...so that’s good news!” Hermione tries to lighten the mood, unsuccessfully doing so as you still remain on the bed. “Alright, well, enough of that. It’s exciting, (Y/N)! You and Fred’s first kiss!” she sits on the bed next to you. “Now I see why you are so nervous about what to wear. Let’s raid the closet and luggage, shall we?”

You let out a light laugh and sit up, watching Hermione raid Ginny’s closet and your luggage, trying to find something for the occasion. “Hmmm,” she peels back hangers, pulling out pieces before putting them back, sorting through the clothes to find the perfect outfit. Suddenly, something catches her eye in your suitcase. “Oh!” she exclaims as she picks up a white and black plaid mini skirt. “What do we have here,” she laughs as you blush. You had bought that skirt on a whim on a shopping trip with Angelina. The skirt was a little short, but cute nonetheless.

Ginny takes a look at the skirt and chuckles, “Naughty, naughty.” You shake your head and roll your eyes. “I might have the top to go with it,” she speaks, rising from the chair and pulling a black, shimmery, long sleeve cropped shirt. She held it up to the skirt. Perfect match. “I’m not saying that you should dress up for Fred because that’s just gross,” Ginny states as you laugh with Hermione. “But...you’d look hot as hell with this on.”

You get up from the bed and huff, “You two are trouble.” The girls laugh as you begin to change, trying on the clothes to see how it looked.

As you straightened out the shirt and skirt, you looked in the mirror in front of you, Hermione and Ginny hovering over your shoulders. It was perfect. The top hugged your feminine figure perfectly and the skirt hung from your hips like a dream, falling just above mid thigh under your bum. The material of the top glittered in the light as you twirled in the mirror. It wasn’t too much, it wasn’t too little. It was simply perfect. “If you don’t wear that, I am,” Ginny speaks as you laugh. “You look incredible.”

“Breathtaking,” Hermione adds. “If Fred doesn’t kiss you tonight, damn it, we will.”

--------------

Another few hours pass before the sun sets and the music starts. It was 9pm and the festivities were just beginning. Everyone was dancing, drinking, and laughing in the living room, celebrating the holiday. Slowly, you, Hermione, and Ginny all joined the party, earning a few stares from the boys. “Nicely done, ladies!” Ron smiles as Hermione rolls her eyes. “You all look lovely,” he retaliates as he looks at his friends, eyes landing on Hermione. “You look lovely,” he repeats quietly to Hermione as she blushes, holding onto the skirt of her pale blue dress.

Ginny pays no attention to Harry’s gawking eyes as she passes him, wearing tight black jeans and a silver cowl neck top. Ginny had every intention of making Harry a murmuring mess. And it was working.

You on the other hand, poured yourself some punch (that the twins had most definitely spiked) and happily stood around your friends. But you couldn’t help yourself wanting to look at Fred. There he stood in the middle of the living room, blue jeans and a navy blue thermal t-shirt. He was dressed simply and plain, but Merlin, he looked good. You let yourself sneak a peak at him, but you catch his eyes. You stand there frozen as he smiles as you cheekily. “Nice skirt,” he compliment.

You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks. “Thanks,” you simply state as George just smiles and sips his punch. Clearing your throat, you start, “Alright, we got three hours to kill. What’s on the agenda?”

Hermione shoots up, “Yes! Okay, so I thought to start we could play Never Have I Ever that way it’ll loosen us all up and we can make it a drinking game if we want.”

“Hermione Granger suggesting a drinking game? New year, new Hermione,” Ron laughs as Hermione rolls her eyes. “Sounds good to me. Everyone circle up.”

Everyone sits on the floor in the living room around the small coffee table, drinks in hand. You were sandwiched between Ginny and Hermione, clutching onto your cup, mind racing a thousand miles a minute. You could feel Fred’s eyes on you but you didn’t want to look at him. It felt like you had a dirty secret when clearly his plans were not a secret to anyone except you.

Harry begins in the game, “Never have I ever broken someone’s arm in a game of quidditch.” Everyone laughs and looks at Ginny and Fred as they roll their eyes.

You remember during one of Fred’s games when Gryffindor played Slytherin, Fred knocked someone clear off their broom and they fell on their arm, a clean break. You remember Fred proudly walking the halls, knowing that he broke that poor bloke’s arm. Even though it got him suspended from the game, Gryffindor still won the match. Many people thought that Fred’s move was unfair or stupid of him, but when you watched it happen, you couldn’t help but think about how attractive Fred looked as he flexed his muscles and literally threw the Slytherin player off of his broom.

Ginny sips her drink and then says, “That was completely targeted, Harry.”

Harry shrugs, “No rules to the game. I say we can be as blunt as possible.”

Everyone looks around at the group as you just sip from your cup, needs the effects of the alcohol to give you a confidence boost. Was it hot in here? George claps his hands as Fred oooohs, making you sweat. “Alright, Potter, now he’s playing with the big boys,” George pats Harry’s back.

“It’s all fun and games now,” Ron laughs. “You’re up, George.”

George rubs his hands together, concocting a statement as your heart races. George was going to be ruthless you knew it. There was so much he could say right now that could make you embarrassed. George was your best friend, he had so much dirt on you. Especially after today. Finally, he was struck with an idea and your heart sank. “Never have I ever had an intricate plan to kiss a girl I’ve fancied since fourth year on New Year’s Eve,” George simply sates.

As soon as the words fall out of his mouth, Fred’s cheeks turn bright crimson red and you almost spit out your drink. You cough a little bit as Ginny and Ron laugh wildly at their older brother, George smugly sitting there, watching the mess he created unfold.

Fred glares at his brother and shakes his head. Slowly, Fred grabs the cup and takes a long sip from it as your heart races. This just got very real. “You’ve made a grave mistake, brother,” Fred states as George laughs. “Grave.”

You uncomfortably shift in your seat as Fred looks at you from across the table a little smirk on his face. Without anyone seeing, he drops his left eye into a wink and then goes back to the conversation. Your heart skips a beat and your face turns beet red. Tonight was going to be a night to remember for sure.

----------

Time flew by and it was a quarter to midnight. The twins had evacuated the house and ran to the backyard to get the fireworks ready. “We’ve got it all settled, not to worry!” Fred called out when Molly expressed her concern for the boys’ safety.

The twins darted into the backyard, laughing happily as they jumped on their brooms and set off into the sky. The rest of you made your way into the backyard slowly as your race was beating a mile a minute. The time was approaching. Fred was going to kiss you in ten minutes. It was all happening so fast, you couldn’t keep up.

“Ready?” you feel Hermione’s hands on your shoulders as you roll your eyes, running your fingers through your hair. “It’ll be great, I just know it.”

You give her a hopeful smile as you stand next to her the backyard, wrapping your arms around yourself to keep you warm from the brisk January air. “I still don’t understand how Fred’s going to pull it off. Going from the fireworks in time to come down here and kiss me? I don’t know,” you ponder.

Hermione smiles, “It’s Fred. He finds a way.”

You nodded your head, smiling. She was right. Fred would find a way. He always did.

Disrupting the silence, Ron speaks, “A minute and thirty seconds, everyone!”

Hermione gasps in excitement. “Already? Alright everyone! Get ready we’re going to start the countdown soon!”

Your heart is still racing as you look around you and up into the sky. No sight of Fred or George. Where were they and what were they doing? “Don’t over think it,” you whisper to yourself as you look around at your friends. Everyone stood around, looking up at the sky, waiting.

And then, “In 10! 9! 8!” Hermione starts counting down.

“7!”

Your heart is pounding against your chest, you feel like your heart is going to leap out.

“6!”

Your mind is reeling and racing with so many thoughts. You are in overdrive.

“5!”

Was Fred going to kiss you? Or was this some sort of sick prank that he and George were in on?

“4!”

Where in the bloody hell was Fred? He had four seconds!

“3!”

Your mouth goes dry.

“2!”

Ron looks at Hermione, Harry to Ginny. It was happening. And Fred was nowhere to be found.

“1!”

Times up.

“Happy New Year!”

And with that, bursts of multicolored lights erupted in the sky, popping and blasting off. It was so bright and colorful, starting off the new year in a decorative display. As you watched the fireworks, you turned around and saw the couples all in each others arms, sharing sweet kisses as the fireworks went off in the background. And you stood there, no Fred. No George. No one.

Your heart sank into your stomach as you realize what was happening. Fred wasn’t coming to kiss you. Not now. It was too late. You both missed your chance. Did George make this up? Was everyone in on it? Did Hermione lie to you? They wouldn’t dare toy with your emotions like that. Or would they?

Instead of dwelling on the questions, you just stared up at the sky, small tears welling in your eyes, but you quickly swallowed them away, feigning happiness. “Happy New Year to me,” you whisper to yourself.

The fireworks blast off in shades of red, blue, green, and orange, illuminating the sky with such joy. You had to admit, Fred and George knew what they were doing when it came to things like this. No matter how much you wanted to scream at the two of them, Fred especially, you kept it in. You were supposed to be happy right now.

As the couples pull away from their embraces, you feel eyes on you in excited anticipation, hoping to see Fred holding you and kissing you. But instead, they see you, looking up at the sky alone. “What?” Hermione whispers. She starts to walk over to you, but Ron stops her.

“Give her a second,” he speaks. “Maybe Fred will come down in a second.”

The couples return their gaze to the sky, but the fireworks don’t stop. They keep coming. Which meant Fred had no intention of coming down anytime soon.

You know that your friends are looking at you, but you refuse to look at them, far too embarrassed. Fred made a fool of you tonight. And that was something you weren’t going to forget.

Slowly, the fireworks stop as you sigh. “What a show,” you try to lighten the mood as Hermione stares at you sadly. You couldn’t look at her she just made you feel bad. “Happy New Year!” you smile to your friends.

Ron is the first one to embrace you, picking you up and spinning you around as you giggle. He always did know how to make you feel a bit better. You held onto him tight as he spun you around. Slowly, he placed you back on the ground. “Happy New Year,” Ron whispered in your ear as he squeezed you. “My brother has always been a moron, no need to worry.”

He pulls away and gives you a smile and a wink. You just shake your head knowingly and shrug. “It is what it is. My resolution is that I’m going into this year with no expectations at all. Even if someone tells me something, I’m not going to expect it. I’d rather be surprised,” you sigh as Hermione hugs you tight.

You walk inside, arm in arm with Hermione, small chatter entering the Burrow as you walk in together. “Are we going to stay up a bit more a play another game?” Ginny asks.

“You all can, but I’m actually quite tired. I think I’m gonna head to bed,” you tell the group as they all protest, wanting you to stay. “I know, I’m a party pooper, but I am. I’m usually not up this late,” you lie through your teeth, knowing damn well you were up until sunrise yesterday with Fred and George talking about the shoppe and the future for it. “Goodnight, everyone. Happy New Year.”

The group watches you as you ascend the steps to the room you were staying in before they all look at each other, disappointed in tonight’s events. Before anyone can say anything, Fred and George come bumbling through the door, laughing and holding onto each other. “Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!” George laughs. “The fireworks looked insane from up there! How did they look down here?”

Everyone just stares and doesn’t say a thing. “Geez, tough crowd,” Fred laughs before Ron slaps him upside the head. “Ow! What the hell was that for?”

Ron scoffs, “Didn’t you forget something? You proper git!”

Fred looks at his younger brother confused. “I didn’t forget a thing! I mean I wished I could see what it looked like from down here, but oh well...anyway, whose up for a game?” Fred asks as everyone looks baffled. “What? You guys look like you saw a ghost. And where’s (Y/N)? She’s missing.”

And that’s when it hits him.

George is just as shocked as everyone else, covering his hand with his mouth.

“Oh, bloody hell...” Fred trails off. “I planned a whole fireworks show for the girl and I forgot to come back down to bloody kiss her.” Everyone just shakes their head and disperses throughout the house, Ginny and Hermione disappearing into Ginny’s room, Ron and Harry trudging up the stairs. “Wait, wait, where did she go? I need to explain what happened to her.”

Ginny groans, “If you had just stuck to your plan like before and not got distracted by the shiny lights, you wouldn’t have to explain anything to her!” This just makes Fred feel worse as he should. He made a promise and convinced everyone to tell his crush about it only to not follow through. “She’s back in her room. You better have a good explanation for all of this.”

Meanwhile, you stood in the bathroom, brushing your teeth in your pajamas shorts and jumper, getting ready for bed. Your glasses hung on the bridge of your nose as you stared at yourself, disappointed in how the night unfolded. Tonight was supposed to be special, but it ended up extremely ordinary. But this is what you should have expected.

You spat the toothpaste in the sink as you stared in the mirror. Huffing, you shake your head, “He’s just a boy.” That’s all Fred Weasley was. A dumb boy. A dumb idiot boy. A cute, funny, sensitive, witty, charming, flirtatious dumb idiot git moron boy. You groan, knowing that the feelings you have for Fred were stronger than ever at this point after the hype of today. “Why me, Fred Weasley?” you groan. “Why me.”

Swinging the bathroom door open, you step outside, unknowingly bumping into someone. “Oh,” you look up and there he was. The culprit. The man of the hour. Fred. “Oh.”

“Can we talk?” he asks as you just stare at him.

He looked at you with such guilt in his eyes, it was palpable. His face turned downward, feeling so stupid in this moment. He disappointed the girl he cared for most since they were children in school. It was embarrassing for him more so than you.

You snapped back into reality and simply said, “Talk about what, Fred?”

With that, you made your way down the hall to the room you were staying in as Fred followed you. “Oh, don’t play this game, (Y/N). We both know exactly what this is about and I just want to apologize,” Fred pleads as you enter the room quickly, attempting to shut the door on him, but he stick his foot in the doorway. “Not so fast, tiger. I need to talk to you.”

“And I need to go to bed. It’s late,” you reply, but Fred forces himself inside the room as you groan. “Fred, it’s not a big deal. All is forgiven. Blah, blah. I’ll see you in the morning. Go on,” you shoo him away.

Fred grabs your arms, “No, it’s not alright. (Y/N), what I did was wrong and no one should ever leave someone alone like that after I promised you, and everyone else did, that I would come down and kiss you. I got caught up being an idiot with my brother and I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for the night to go like this for either of us. I wanted it to be special.”

Fred’s words make your heart flutter, but you don’t let your heart get in the way of this situation. “You made me look like a fool,” you cooly speak, maintaining direct eye contact with Fred.

“And I feel like a crap person because of it. I’m so sorry, (Y/N),” Fred grabs your hands as you huff. “I’m sure George already flapped his big mouth about it, but I’ve fancied you since we were in fourth year and you sneaked into George and I’s dormitory to tell ghost stories to Lee. I thought you were the coolest girl I had ever met. I still do. And when we graduated, you were so ready to help George and I start the joke shoppe and help us get on our feet. You have been so supportive and loving and kind to me. And I want you to know that I think you are the most incredible woman I have ever met. You’re smart, kind, generous, and good Godric, you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen,” he sighs as you blush gently. “I wanted tonight to be a memory that we could have forever. Because I care for you so much, (Y/N). I wanted to do it so badly. And I still do.”

Your heart is racing again and you feel your mouth run dry again. But you muster up enough confidence to say, “Do what, Weasley?”

A small smirk appears on your lips as Fred lightly chuckles, “Cheeky.”

He wastes no more time, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close and dipping his head down to connect your lips in a gentle kiss. His lips are warm and taste of cinnamon. You sigh into his touch and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Fred smiles into your kiss as he holds onto you tight, not wanting to let go. He missed his chance once tonight. He wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

Gently, you pull away and look at Fred who is smiling from ear to ear. “Worth the wait?” Fred jokes as you roll your eyes, him kissing your lips again swiftly.

“Well worth the wait. Only four years late,” you tease him as he laughs. “Happy New Year, Freddie.”

“Happy New Year, darling.”

#Fred and George #fred weasley #Fred and Goerge Weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader imagine #fred weasley x muggle!reader #fred weasley smut imagine #fred weasley fluff #Harry Potter #HP #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut

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panda-noosh · 5 years ago

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unlike me {fred weasley x reader}

Words: 8k

Summary: You, a shy Hufflepuff, have caught the eye of Fred Weasley.

Genre: fluff

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - did i just write pure fluff? wow. i’m learning.

----

Fred Weasley doesn’t do things to impress others. He never has. Trying to please others is so far from his mind when playing one of his pranks that it’s almost laughable to think he and his twin brother do anything for the sake of attention. They live to amuse themselves, and nobody else.

But sometimes the reactions of others do catch his eye. It happens rarely, but there have been the odd times when Fred and George are fleeing from the scene of one of their usual messy pranks, and Fred will look over to see someone standing there, staring open mouthed and wide eyed at the scene in front of them, and he will turn back to the path and smile because - yet again - he has left somebody speechless.

More often than not these days, that person is you.

Fred doesn’t know much about you; you’re clearly very shy, hardly ever being spotted in the hallways unless you’re making your way to your next class, and even then you’re prone to keeping your head down, refusing to talk to anybody who wants to talk to you. Fred doesn’t know if you have any friends, if you want friends, if you’ve ever looked at him and wondered what it would be like to talk to him…

“So, Harry, tell me a bit about that one over there.”

Harry looks up from his breakfast plate, eyes still fogged from a night of no-doubt restless sleep. Beside him, Ron is still trying to wake himself up and Hermione is hastily flipping through a gargantuan textbook. It seems to Fred like the Chosen One may be the only one at this moment in time in a fit enough state to answer his pressing questions.

“Huh?” he replies.

Fred leans forward a little more, so close that his mouth is very nearly touching Harry’s ear. “That one over there.” He nods over to the Hufflepuff table. “The one sitting on their own.”

Harry narrows his eyes. “Y/N L/N? What about them?”

“They’re in your year, aren’t they?”

“I think so. I don’t really know too much about them; they’re quite quiet, really.”

“Yeah,” Fred and George say together. “We know.”

Harry raises a brow, flicking his gaze to the twins standing on either side of him. “Why? Are you both interested?”

“Just ol’ Freddy Boy here.”

Ron scoffs. “You? Getting in with Y/N L/N? Mate, that’s about as likely as Percy showing up for Christmas this year.”

Fred slaps Ron on the back of the head. “Shut your mouth, you git.”

“So, what? You really think you have a chance with them?” Harry asks.

Fred shifts uncomfortably; he hadn’t meant for the conversation to get this far. All he wanted was for Harry to tell him a bit about you and that be it - he was fairly confident he could handle the rest on his own using his incredible charm and humour.

But now these snotty little fifth years are making him second-guess his own abilities, which has never happened before in his seventeen years of life.

“I think so,” he replies, trying to keep his voice as confident as possible. “Why wouldn’t I have a chance? I’m charming, and witty, and-”

“And loud, and annoying, and centre of attention literally all the time,” Ginny finishes, waltzing into the conversation. She sits down next to Hermione, pinching a hash brown off Harry’s plate. “Y/N is the complete opposite of that. You’ll scare them away before you even get a chance to ask them out.”

Fred frowns. George says something in his twins defence, but Fred has stopped listening, instead choosing to glance over to where you’re still sitting, smiling shyly at the Hufflepuff boy who has just taken a seat next to you. It’s clear - and always has been clear - that you get plenty of attention - you just don’t want it. Fred has watched you get shy and awkward, shuffling away from people who so much as grin in your direction. Fred has even watched you scurry away when he walks past, and at this point, he isn’t even surprised; the scenes Fred finds him in are far from the types of scenes you’ll want to be caught in.

You really are very different people, and Fred isn’t stupid enough to deny that. Nonetheless, there’s something about you that has always caught his eye, from the day he was a puny little second year, watching you scramble up to the Sorting Hat. Even then he found himself staring at you, fingers crossed in the hopes you would get sorted into Gryffindor, that he could find an excuse to lead you to the Common Room himself - not Perfect Percy - but then you were being sorted into Hufflepuff and an awful long time went by in which Fred did nothing to pursue you.

But now he’s in his sixth year. If not now, then when?

“Have you ever tried speaking to them?”

Ron’s voice snaps Fred from his daze. He looks down and shrugs.

“Not really.”

“That's not like you,” says Ginny. “Have we actually found someone who makes you shy?”

Fred scowls. “I’m not shy. Y/N’s shy - I’m just respecting that and keeping my distance.”

“Good on you, mate,” says George, before he ducks his head down and whispers loudly in Harry’s ear, “Every time he sees them, he wets himself a little.”

Fred kicks his twin. “Would you lot give it a rest? I’ll talk to them today, alright? You’ll all see.”

“Oh, don’t wind him up,” Hermione tuts, slapping Ron on the arm when the group of youngsters start laughing.

“Oooh,” George says. “You’ve got Granger sticking up for you, Fred - who would have thought that would ever happen to us?”

“I think it’s cute that Fred likes Y/N,” says Hermione, sitting up a little straighter. “I don’t know much about them, but I think someone bringing them out of their shell could do them a world of good.”

Fred can’t help but grin; the thought of it, of you actually giving him a chance - it makes him unnervingly happy. “Cheers, Hermione.”

Fred takes that tiny bit of assurance and carries it with him throughout the entire day - he doesn’t really know when he’s going to make his move, just that he is.

At some point.

He has no classes with you. He barely sees you in the hallways. He doesn’t share a common room with you - the situation is really not working in his favour, but Fred Weasley will not let such a drawback ruin his plans. He’ll find ways around it, just as he finds ways around everything.

The solution finally comes to him at 11:00pm.

He should be in bed. He knows he should be in bed, that if Filch were to see him right now, the old man would be going absolutely ballistic, overjoyed with the idea of giving another student a detention. Fred has the advantage of the Marauders Map, plus a lifetimes worth of sneaking around, but that doesn’t make him feel any less nervous.

He’s been out of bed after curfew plenty of times before, but never has he crept into another common room whilst doing it.

He heads towards the basement, checking the Marauders Map every few seconds to ensure Filch and his filthy cat are as far away as possible. His mind is working at a million miles per hour, because for the first time in his life, Fred is convinced he’s being stupid. The amount of protective charms that must be on the doors of these openings would be insane, and Fred is insane to think he could ever try and get past them, but god, he can’t go down to breakfast tomorrow without making some attempt to talk to you, just like he said he would, just like Hermione-

“Eep!”

Fred spins on his heel, nearly falling over a body of armour stood in the corner. Multiple paintings rouse from their sleep, and the ones that were already awake break into fits of giggles. Fred doesn’t even acknowledge the tiny noise that made him jump in the first place, instead choosing to desperately hush the paintings around him.

“Shut up. Sh! Filch will hear and then we’re all in trouble!”

“Speak for yourself, Weasley,” says Doogle Doolaly through a mouthful of giggles. Fred shoots the painting a glare before abruptly remembering what had caused him to stumble in the first place.

He spins around. To his surprise, you’re still there.

You, standing right in front of him with both hands clapped over your mouth, eyes wide. You’re wearing a pair of yellow bed robes, hair a mess. Fred has to take a minute to just stare.

And then, “What on Earth are you doing out of bed?”

Slowly you lower your hands, biting your lower lip as you stare right back at him; Fred, though pleased, finds this quite odd considering he’s so used to watching you avoid eye contact as much as possible. “I was walking.”

Your voice is quiet, timid.

Fred tilts his head. “Walking? At eleven at night?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither.”

You nod. Fred nods back. The two of you stand a good five feet apart, unsure of what to say or do to make the silence go away - of course, there’s so many things Fred wants to ask, considering he was previously convinced you would never step out of line, but none of those questions are appearing right now.

Fred, however, knows this silence can’t last forever, so he’s the one to make the first move in breaking it.

“You alright?”

You look up, startled. “I’m fine. Why?”

“I was just wondering. You look like you’ve seen someone use an illegal curse or something.”

“Thanks.”

Fred’s stomach flips. “Not that you don’t look really pretty, because you do, but I’m just saying-”

“Why were you heading towards the Hufflepuff common room?”

Fred pauses. Have you just caught him out?

“How did you know that’s where I was going?”

“Because nobody else comes down here this late at night unless they’re a Hufflepuff coming back from detention.”

“You’re good at this, you know. Right little detective, you are.”

You shrug.

Fred sighs, rubs the back of his neck before saying, “I was just having an innocent little dander about. Those Gryffindor sixth years can be a rowdy bunch - it’s hard to get to sleep.”

“Oh. Okay.” You trace your eyes along his towering form, and for a moment, Fred is almost convinced you’re genuinely checking him out. It boosts his confidence a little. “Well, I’m sorry you couldn’t sleep. I’m also sorry for making so much noise - you startled me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a pretty scary person I’ve been told.”

Your lips twitch. “Who told you that?”

He shrugs. “It’s not so much a verbal thing. Sometimes sweet little Hufflepuff’s run away when they make eye contact with me.” He raises a brow, smirks when he sees your own smile fade, replaced by a mild look of embarrassment because you both know exactly who Fred is talking about.

You cough and awkwardly kick at the floor. “Sometimes sweet little Hufflepuff’s get a little shy.”

Fred’s confidence is really flooding back into his system now, and he doesn’t know why it feels different. This isn’t the confidence he carries around with him on a day-to-day basis, the confidence that allows him to play these big pranks without a care in the world. This is a type of confidence he has never felt before, makes him feel elated, like he can do anything.

He smirks, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m Fred Weasley, by the way.”

“I know.” Your eyes pop open for a brief second. “I mean - uh - Ron. Ron is your brother, right?”

“He is.”

“I know your brother. He’s in my year. Goalkeeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, right?”

“Right.”

You nod, biting your lower lip in that way Fred has learned you do quite often when you’re flustered. “I heard of you - uh - from him. Yeah.”

Fred nods. He stares at your flustered form, finding amusement in the way you quickly look to the floor, trying desperately to avoid his gaze which has apparently now become too much for you.

He chuckles and pushes himself away from the wall he found himself leaning upon. “It was lovely talking to you, Hufflepuff. Try not to run away next time and maybe we can talk again.”

You look up and nod, lips twitching. Fred grins right back, bows his head to you before he walks off down the corridor, pretty darn pleased with himself.

----

“So how did it go?”

“I don’t kiss and tell.”

Ginny gasps, slapping Fred on the arm when her, Fred and George sit down to breakfast the next morning. “You kissed?”

Fred snickers. “No. But we spoke, and it was great. Y/N L/N is actually a bit of a rule breaker.”

Ginny raises a brow, reaching across George for a slice of toast. “Shut up.”

“He’s telling the truth,” says George, at the same time Fred says, “I’m telling the truth.”

“Wow. What were they doing to break the rules?”

“Walking about after curfew. Lucky I was there, or else Filch would have had them.”

Ginny scoffs. “Because god forbid anyone be as sneaky as you two.”

“Exactly,” the twins reply.

“So what was the conversation like?” Ginny prods. She wears a distracted gaze in the hopes that Fred won’t see just how curious she really is, but Fred sees right through her.

“It wasn’t bad,” he replies. “A bit short, but that’s easily fixed.”

“So you want to keep talking to them?”

Fred raises a brow. “Of course I do.”

Ginny hums around the slice of toast in her mouth. “Cute, Fred. Cute.”

Fred opens his mouth to give a sarcastic retort, but gets abruptly distracted by the sight of you rising from the Hufflepuff table. He sits bolt upright, craning his neck to see over the heads of everybody else; you don’t spare him a glance, apparently retreating back to your usual, shy self. With your head ducked down and your books piled in your arms, you hastily make your way towards the exit.

Fred is standing up before he can even process he’s moved. Ginny and George watch him, both smiling maniacally as Fred utters a half-hearted goodbye and follows after you. He really has no plans for what he could possibly say when he finally catches up, but he’s decided to take every opportunity he possibly can.

He bustles out of the Great Hall, finding you only a few seconds after as you head back towards the Hufflepuff common room.

“Y/N!”

You freeze, spinning around as Fred jumps onto the step just below the one you’re currently standing on. He pants dramatically, clutching his chest.

“You move quick.”

You glance over his shoulder, hugging your books a little tighter. “Hi, Fred. How was breakfast?”

“Oh, good. Great, actually. I - uh - had toast.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Yeah.” He straightens up, rubbing the back of his neck; why is he suddenly nervous? “Where are you off to?”

“I have to go grab some books for my first few classes,” you reply, and Fred can’t help but note the slight tinge of amusement in your voice. “Where are you off to?”

Fred pauses; again, this was not something he necessarily thought through when he first decided to follow you out here. He really just wanted a chat, to hear your voice one more time before he was forced to go to classes.

He folds his arms over his chest as nonchalantly as he can manage, leaning against the banister. “I don’t think it’s right for a lovely wizard like yourself to be walking to class on your own; I thought I’d offer my services.”

You raise a brow, once again taking a cautious glance over Fred’s shoulder to ensure nobody is around to hear his flirtations; nonetheless, you make no attempt to stop him, which he takes as a relatively good sign. “Well, you can walk me to class if you like. I have to get my books first, though.”

Fred gestures up the stairs. “Lead the way.”

And so you do. Fred follows you all the way to the Hufflepuff common room, where he is forced to wait outside whilst you gather your belongings. His stomach grumbles, evidence of his uneaten breakfast, but he doesn’t even care right now. Not when you walk out of the common room, all smiles and nervous glances. Fred offers you his arm, and it’s with only the slightest bit of hesitation that you take it and allow Fred to lead you back through the school hallways.

“What is it like in there?” he asks.

“In where?”

“The Hufflepuff common room. Surely you can hear all the house elves rattling about in the kitchens at night.”

You shake your head. “The walls are soundproof; did you know Muggles have soundproof things as well?”

Fred raises a brow. “You’re not obsessed with Muggle stuff, are you? My dad’s into all that stuff - I’ve heard enough of it for a lifetime.”

You giggle, and Fred is fairly certain his hand starts trembling.

“No, I’m not obsessed,” you say. “I do find some of it interesting, though. The similarities between our world and theirs.”

“Are there many? Similarities, I mean.”

You shrug. Looking to the side, Fred can see your face suddenly change; what once was an expression of nerves and uncertainty is now one of interest and intrigue as Fred asks you questions on a topic you are clearly very invested in. It makes his heart lift, and he has to bite his lower lip to stop the smile from spreading and making it too obvious.

“A few I’ve picked up on,” you reply. “They still - like - wear clothes and stuff. Just different styles. And they live in houses, and go to school-”

“School? Don’t insult Hogwarts like that. Muggle school and wizard school aren’t even comparable.”

You furrow your brows, glancing up at Fred. “But they still learn.”

“Not the important stuff. Not like we do.”

“And what would you consider important?”

Fred hums, gazing wistfully into the distance. You giggle again. Finally, he says “aha!” and clicks, whirling on you. “Right, tell me this - do Muggles learn Defense Against the Dark Arts?”

You frown, grip tightening on his arm. “I don’t think so. They don’t have magic, so it would be a bit pointless, wouldn’t it?”

“Ah, but it’s important. What are they gonna do if a Dementor comes knocking on their front door?”

“There’s nothing they can do, even if they knew the basic stuff we know. They don’t have magic, Fred.”

Fred grunts. “Must be a hard life having to do everything by hand.”

“I agree.”

Fred chuckles, glancing down at you. Your eyes meet his for a fraction of a second before you bite your bottom lip and avert your gaze.

“Go on then,” Fred continues. “Tell me some more similarities. You’ve got me interested now.”

“Really?”

“Mm.”

You tilt your head in thought. “Well. . . I suppose the way their government system works is quite similar to ours.”

“Explain.”

“They have people in power. A system of higher-up’s, if you will, who control everything.”

“Is theirs as corrupt as ours?”

“Oh, definitely. Sometimes I’d even argue they’re even more corrupt than ours.”

Fred’s eyes pop open. “Blimey. How has the Muggle world not completely broken down?”

You laugh. Full-on laugh, eyes squinting closed and head thrown back. Fred can’t even bring himself to laugh alongside you, suddenly too engrossed in your enjoyment to indulge in his own.

You hiccough yourself back to reality before looking up and saying, “Surely your dad could teach you all this stuff if he’s so interested in Muggle affairs?”

“He’s interested, but he’s also a bit oblivious. Doesn’t matter how many times Harry tells him what a telephone is, he still has no idea how it all works.” Fred shrugs. “Plus, I enjoy my lessons much more when you’re teaching them.”

You stiffen, lower lip hiding - yet again - behind your teeth. You swallow thickly, and before Fred can do anything, you’re unwinding your arm from his and picking up your pace, calling a quick, “I’m gonna be late!” over your shoulder. Fred falters mid-way, staring after you with his mouth dropped open and confusion making his stomach churn.

Someone crashes into his shoulder as you round the corner. “Nice one, mate.”

“Shut up, George.”

“It doesn’t look like it’s going too well.”

“It’s - it’s going fine.” Fred curses under his breath - now you’ve got him stuttering? “They’re just a little shy. But I think they like me.”

“Oh yes, the most obvious sign of attraction - running away.”

----

Fred is beginning to get very tired of his classes.

He’s only here for the sake of his mothers sanity; god only knows how Molly Weasley would react if he showed up at the Burrow six months early, claiming he was finished with school before he’d even managed to bag an acceptable amount of N.E.W.T’s.

But he doesn’t want to be here any more. He’s getting tired of forcing himself to listen to things he only half cares about, getting tired of being told off for things that - honestly - the teachers should just be used to by now. It’s not like they haven’t seen it for the past six years.

He grunts to himself as he and George walk out of History of Magic. Yet another boring lesson that seemed to drag on much longer than necessary; all Fred has to prove he was there at all is the doodle of a cat in the top hand corner of his notebook.

“I need a sleep,” George says. “His bloody voice exhausts me.”

Fred opens his mouth to respond, but his twin brother cuts him off by slapping a hand to his arm and pointing straight ahead.

Startled, Fred looks up. Standing by the gargoyle just outside History of Magic is you, hugging your books whilst awkwardly looking back and forth, as if afraid one of the passing students is going to stop and harass you.

George snickers. “Go on, mate. I think they’re looking for you.”

Before Fred can object, get himself together, George shoves him forward hard enough to make him stumble. Your head snaps up at the sound of Fred saying “You git!” and Fred is quick to lean against the wall, look at you and say, coolly, “Y/N. What a pleasant surprise.”

You stand up a little straighter, lips twitching. “Hi. How was class?”

“Boring.” He smirks. “Much better now that you’re here, though.”

The unmistakable sound of George snorting as he passes by floats between you. You smile, giving Fred’s brother a nod before you turn back to Fred and say, “Do you fancy taking a little walk before break ends?”

Of all the things Fred expected to happen today, you asking him on a walk was certainly not one of them. It takes him a second to reply, and it’s only the realisation that you’re probably just as nervous as he is that he snaps out of it and nods.

You wind your arm through his without him having to offer; his cheeks are burning.

Together, you set off down the hall. It’s quiet for a little bit, Fred still trying to figure out what’s happening, and you inspecting each and every one of the sculptures you pass, as if too afraid to look over at Fred.

Finally, however, you break the silence. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Fred’s stomach jolts. “What are you sorry for?”

“For how I reacted. You were just being nice and I - uh - I don’t really know how to handle that kind of thing.”

Fred perks an eyebrow, glancing down at you with genuine curiosity. “I find that very hard to believe.” Because he does. He finds it downright unbelievable that compliments are not something you have grown used to across the five years spent in Hogwarts.

You shrug. “Well, believe it. I really appreciated what you said, but I just. . . I don’t know how to respond, or if you’re telling the truth-”

“I was definitely telling the truth.”

You bite your lip. “I shouldn’t have ran off like that. It must have made you feel awful.”

Classic Hufflepuff behaviour - thinking more about other people’s feelings than their own.

“You know,” Fred drawls, “if my flirting makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and I’ll stop.”

“No!”

Fred’s eyes snap down. You look back up at him, eyes wide before you realise the abruptness of your protestation and hastily avert your gaze to the floor.

“No,” you say, softer now. “I - uh - I don't think you should stop. I quite like it, actually.”

Fred smirks, keeping his eyes trained on you even as you fight desperately to look anywhere but him. “Do you fancy me, Y/N L/N?”

“Oh, give me a break, Fred.”

“I think you do.” He rubs his cheek against your own. “Just a little bit.”

You jerk away, slapping his arm. “Well, it’s not bloody difficult, is it?”

Fred falters, though his smile only widens. “What does that mean?”

You groan, pulling your arm from his yet again. Fred stumbles back, unable to help the laugh that bursts from his throat at the sight of your flustered state.

“I’m going to class,” you announce.

“You didn’t answer my question!”

“I don’t have an answer to your question.” You stand there a little longer. With a smile still beaming, Fred watches as you take a single step forward, a step back, another step forward-

And then, as if telling yourself to just get it over with, you jump forward and press your lips to Fred’s cheek. His jaw drops open, but he doesn’t get the chance to say anything before you’re spinning on your heel and rushing away, rounding the corner without so much as a wave in his direction.

Fred swallows thickly, reaching up to brush his fingers against the area you have just kissed, just like they do in those cheesy Muggle movies his mum is so fond of. He can’t believe the feeling that comes with it - his heart is going to explode.

Oh, no…

----

The Hufflepuff table is boring compared to the Gryffindor table. That’s the first thing Fred notices.

Maybe it’s because his friends aren’t with him. Maybe it’s because George flat-out refused to accompany him. Maybe it’s because Fred is nervous, and he’s angry about it, because since when has Fred Weasley ever been nervous about anything?

This morning, however, he is pushed on by the memory of your lips against his cheek. That is his only source of motivation, the only reason he doesn’t flick Ernie MacMillan on the back of the head when the Hufflepuff boy turns and scowls at the Gryffindor student currently making his way towards you, sat at the very end.

You have yet to look up from your textbook. Fred takes great pleasure in wrapping his arms around your shoulders, your body jumping back against his in your shock. He leans down and chuckles in your ear, moving his head so you can see his clearly amused features.

Immediately your eyes widen. “Fred! What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come have breakfast with you.” He waves his wand; a sausage springs up from Ernie’s plate, which he catches before biting into. “Like a date.”

You bite your lip. “Do you want to sit down?”

“Uh, Y/N?” Ernie calls over as Fred takes the empty seat next to you; he doesn’t miss the way you barely look up when you hum in response to Ernie’s - quite frankly - rude call of your name. “You know the houses have to eat together. He’s breaking the rules.”

You shyly look up. “Oh, Ernie, let him sit down…”

“Yeah Ernie,” Fred jeers. “Let me sit down, you nosy little git.”

You choke on the pumpkin juice you just lifted to your mouth, spinning in your seat to hide the amused smile growing uncontrollably upon your face. Fred grins, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Did you like that?”

“You’re impossible,” you hiss, slapping his arm. “Just ignore him. He’s got a grudge against anyone who plays for Gryffindor.”

“Yeah, I know.” Fred narrows his eyes, craning his neck a little to see over your shoulder, where Ernie sits with a scowl on his face. “He better not give you a hard time for hanging out with me, you know. You’d tell me if he was?”

You shift so you’re covering Ernie’s face and are now the centre of Fred’s attention. “Of course I would. Plus, Ernie doesn’t scare me.”

“I’ll certainly scare him if he so much as-”

“Fred,” you laugh, nudging his knee beneath the table. His eyes drift back to you, his body immediately relaxing at the sight of your glowing smile. “Calm down, okay? He’s got nothing against me - it’s you and the Gryffindor team he’s got a problem with.”

“Is that supposed to make me hate him any less?”

You shrug, plucking Fred’s hands from your shoulders and placing a hash brown between his fingertips. “He’s got a point, you know. You are breaking the rules by sitting here.”

Fred raises a brow. “Right, I’ll leave if you-”

“No!” You latch onto his arm, pulling him back to the bench as Fred bursts into yet another round of raucous laughter at how easily flustered you become. “No, you should stay. Dumbledore isn’t even looking.”

“If I was any less wise, L/N, I’d think you want me to have breakfast with you.”

“I just don’t get to see that much of you,” you mumble.

Fred coos; he’s trying so hard to keep up the fun-guy persona, putting on a mask of confidence despite the speed at which his heart is hammering in his chest at the moment. You make it so easy for him to feel this way, too easy, because sure, Fred has had crushes on people before, but never has he put himself out like this. Never has he wanted to make someone laugh so much. Never has he been so proud of being the reason for someone else’s smile.

Fred leans forward, lowering his voice. “That’s very cute.”

“Yeah, well…”

He chuckles, flicking your heated cheek before he takes a bite from the slice of toast you’re holding. You jolt upright immediately, swatting him away with a glare. “Hey!”

He licks the butter noisily from his fingers. “Yummy.”

You roll your eyes. “Get your own breakfast.”

“But yours is so much tastier.”

You grab another slice of toast from your plate and push it against Fred’s lips. He opens his mouth, takes a bite and hums appreciatively.

And then the world stops.

It really is like those scenes in those cheesy movies his mum watches all the time, where the room seems to go still and it’s like nobody else exists. Your fingers hover inches away from his face, your eyes cast to his lips where the slice of toast has just disappeared. Fred swallows, his own eyes drawn to your lips, slightly parted, so soft looking-

“Weasley! What do you think you’re doing sitting at the Hufflepuff table! Get back to where you belong right this instant!”

McGonagall grabs a fistful of his robes, pulling him up from the bench. Fred gasps, stumbling up with his eyes still locked on you. You hastily look back down at the table, pushing hair out of your eyes, trying to avoid being told off by the Deputy Head.

“Awk, lay off, Professor!” Fred exclaims. “I was having fun!”

“You were breaking the rules, Mr Weasley. You can integrate with your pals whenever breakfast has finished, but until then-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fred grumbles, giving you one last glance. It’s to his utter relief that he sees you looking back at him, a tiny smile on your face. Fred winks before McGonagall shoves him forward, back into his seat at the Gryffindor table.

----

When Fred receives your note, he is sat in the Gryffindor common room with George.

Homework litters the table in front of them, unfinished and not understood by either of them. Hermione had long since gone to bed, insisting she wasn’t going to help people who didn’t want to help themselves. And so, the twins sat up until the late hours of the night, staring at their homework with a sense of frustration building between them.

Fred feels certain he’s going to snap at any given moment; this whole school thing really isn’t working out for him nor George, and the two of them have such prestigious dreams that sitting in a classroom all day just feels like a waste of time. Maybe that’s why he can’t bring himself to properly concentrate on his lessons. Maybe that’s why neither he nor George care as much about grades as all his other siblings.

“Right, so clearly Flitwick was on something when he wrote this,” says George, scowling at his charms homework. “He didn’t even mention flying charms last lesson, so why has he-”

The fireplace suddenly erupts.

Both Fred and George jump at the sudden interruption, swivelling round in their chairs to catch a glimpse of what has happened; they both know full well the kinds of things these fireplaces can permit, and neither of them want to deal with anything too dangerous at this time of night.

In the fire, however, is not the face of a Death Eater, or anything close to such - instead, a single piece of paper sits in the ashes, Fred’s name printed in bold across the top.

The twins frown at each other. George makes a suggestive gesture, all but shoving Fred closer for inspection.

Fred stumbles, sends George a glare before he bends down and picks the piece of paper up. Immediately the handwriting is recognisable by the lazy flick of the letters, how effortlessly neat it looks. It would take Fred hours to write a note that looks like this, and yet he’s watched you scribbling notes down; this is undoubtedly your doing.

Suddenly he’s smiling.

“Oh, here we go,” George groans, noticing his twins expression. “You’re sending love notes to each other now?”

“Shut up.” Fred sinks down into one of the armchairs, reading your note thoroughly. “Y/N wants to meet up.”

“Right now?”

“Mhm.”

George raises a brow. “Have you two even kissed yet?”

Fred’s eyes snap up, cheeks heating before he can stop them. He never ever gets flustered around George, but the mention of such a thing has his stomach flipping. “Why do you care?”

George raises his hands in mock surrender. “Never said I did, mate, but the smile on your face right now would suggest at least a peck on the cheek or something.”

Fred scowls. “No, we haven’t kissed. We’re not even properly together, so drop it.”

“How does that make sense? You both fancy each other-”

“Yeah, but it’s nothing official.” Fred lazily flicks his hand, clicking his fingers so the note folds itself into a perfect square and zips into his robe pocket. “You wouldn’t understand these things, Georgie Boy. You’ve got to take it slow.”

Goerge scoffs, throwing a pencil at Fred. “Very bloody slow apparently. But I forgot, it’s a Hufflepuff you’ve got your eye on. They tend to be a bit hard-to-get, don’t they?”

Fred opens his mouth to protest, to stick up for you, but he can’t even deny the truth in George’s words; a fair amount of time has passed since the two of you first started talking, and all you’ve done is say you enjoy his company. There’s been no kissing, no hand-holding, nothing even close to being considered romantic.

Fred is okay with this, of course. He’s in that very weird head space where even just being in your presence is enough to satisfy him; he catches glimpses of you as you parade from one class to another, and that is enough until he sees you again at lunch, or dinner, or during breaks.

He sighs, pushing himself up from the armchair. “Don’t wanna leave them waiting, do I?”

George scowls. “What about our homework?”

“We’ll be fine.”

“I’m not covering for you if Flitwick asks what you were up to that’s more important than his homework assignments.”

Fred grins, not even giving a response as he clambers out of the common room and ducks into the hallways.

He knows exactly where to go, even though he’s never met up with you after hours before - not since the first time, which he doesn’t even count considering it was entirely an accident. To this day, he still isn’t convinced that wasn’t some type of dream - a Hufflepuff, out of bed after hours? Not a single soul would believe him if he told them.

Fred makes his way down the corridor and grins when he sees you standing there; you’re much braver than him. Fred, personally, feels much safer when he’s wading through the halls - it makes it more difficult for Filch to catch him if he’s not stationary. You, however, seem to have no issue with standing behind a suit of armour, waiting patiently for Fred to round the corner.

“Hola. Bonjour. Hello. Hi.”

You look round, face immediately lighting up. “Fred! Hi!”

He’ll never get used to that greeting.

“Y/N! Hi!” he mimics. “I got your note.”

“Good. Great. I was worried I did it wrong.”

“You? Do something wrong?” Fred screws his face up in an expression of mock confusion, which prompts you to roll your eyes and nudge him. He grins, stuffs his hands in his pockets and says, “Out after curfew again, eh? Have I finally corrupted you?”

“You must have,” you reply.

Fred tilts his head. “What’s the actual reason you invited me out?”

And that’s when your expression shifts.

You bite your lower lip in that way you always do, eyes darting to the ground awkwardly. Fred raises a brow, leaning forward a bit in his attempt to get you to look at him again, but you suddenly seem much too embarrassed to even be giving Fred the time of day. His stomach flips with uncharacteristic anxiety, and he can’t stop himself when he steps forward and places a gentle hand on your elbow.

“Hey. Did something happen?”

The words burst out of you in one breath. “I left my book in the bathing room and I’m too scared to get it myself but I really need it to help me sleep, so I was wondering if you could help me get through the hallways without Filch knowing and then I promise you can go back to bed and never speak to me again.”

You take a sharp breath before looking away again, apparently too embarrassed by your request to even look at him.

Fred takes a moment to reply. He has to untangle your words first, and then he has to bask in his amusement at how embarrassed you were by asking it; personally, he doesn’t see the problem. He’s happy to help. In fact, he’d be pretty annoyed if it wasn’t him you were asking.

“Alright.”

Your eyes snap up. “Really? I mean, you don’t have to, I just thought - well, you know your way around, and you’ve dealt with Filch-”

“You don’t need to explain.” He offers his arm, just as he always does. “What book is it?”

And it’s with only the tiniest bit of hesitance that you take his offered arm and allow him to guide you through the corridors he apparently knows so well; in truth, he doesn’t tend to go out after curfew all that often, because he gets all of his mischief done in the day time now. But you were indeed correct in saying he knows this place better than anyone else. He and George spent the majority of their school careers finding secret passageways and little hiding spots they could use at any given time. As he listens to you talk about the book he’s about to try and save, he recalls each and every one of these hiding places whilst keeping a sharp ear out for Filch.

The two of you arrive at the bathing rooms and Fred pushes open the door. It squeaks, and you wince, glancing at Fred anxiously; he merely places a hand on the small of your back, pushing you further into the room.

He follows, closes the door and exhales heavily. “Made it. Now where’s that book you’ve lost?”

You skitter around the edge of the massive bathing pool; it’s still filled to the brim with forever hot water, always clean despite the amount of people washing themselves within it on a daily basis. Fred stands on the edge, hands stuffed in his pockets as he watches you rush to the far side of the room, rummage around in a basket of towels before pulling a particularly thick book out from beneath them.

You look over, smiling broadly with the book pressed against your chest.

Fred raises a brow. “Happy now?”

“Overjoyed.”

You skip back over to him, pulling open the front cover to look inside. Fred leans forward, reading the confusing inside blurb over your shoulder.

“And you use this for a bit of light reading in the bath?” he asks.

Startled, you slam the book closed. “It’s good, honestly.”

“I’ll take your-”

Fred’s sentence is cut off by the sound of Filch yelling.

And it’s unmistakably Filch yelling, because Fred has heard it many, many times before. It always comes with that initial rush of panic, the realisation he’s been caught, and if he was with anybody else, that initial panic wouldn’t have even lasted. Now, however, he takes one look at your slack face, the horror swimming in your eyes, and he realises this is the first time you’ll have ever gotten in trouble with the caretaker.

A traumatic experience for anyone.

“Oh, god,” you whisper, dropping the book with a SLAM. You jump, scrambling to pick it up, but the noise only seems to draw Filch closer to the door. Fred has to think now.

He groans low under his breath, fumbling beneath his robes for his wand - a wand that has been left on the table back in the Gryffindor common room.

You jolt back up straight, hugging the book to your chest, and that’s when Fred does the one thing he can think to do right now - he grabs your arms and pushes you back, jumping into the deep end of the bath with you alongside him.

He holds you close, opening his eyes as much as he possibly can. He can hear Filch’s yelling from above, aggravated screams of “I know you’re in here! I know you’re in here! I heard you!” Fred simply pulls you closer, urging you to hold your breath for as long as possible.

But he can see you panicking, the air leaving you. He can see your lips threatening to split open so you can scream or cry or breathe, Fred doesn’t know, but he can’t let you do it. Not right now.

Without magic, there’s only one thing he can think to do.

He presses his lips to your own and pries your mouth open. He doesn’t know how this works. He read about it once in a Muggle Studies book, but he never thought he would ever actually need to pay attention to the details. He takes your relaxing body as a good sign, tightening his hold on your shoulders as he continues to breathe as much air into your mouth as he can possibly muster.

And then the door is slamming, and Filch’s screams are muted behind the gold plating, and Fred immediately lets go of you and bursts to the surface.

You follow, gasping for air, wiping water out of your eyes along with fat strands of wet hair. Fred pants, wiping his eyes roughly, trying so hard to find words for an apology but unable to gather enough breath to even think proper thoughts at the moment.

His heartbeat soars. He looks over at you; you’re already looking at him, and the entire room is silent besides your synchronised panting breaths.

You shove past the water, into his arms, and kiss him.

Fred’s eyes pop open wide, but his arms wind around your waist almost instinctively. His lips mould against yours, and once the initial shock has passed, his eyes are slipping closed and he’s falling, falling, drowning, never wanting to resurface ever again.

You pull away first. Water drips from your bottom lip, your eyelashes, your chin, and Fred has never seen a sight so beautiful. He reaches forward, swiping his thumb along your lower lip before he leans forward and gives you a final peck.

“Always full of surprises, you are,” he whispers.

----

Fred watches you. Leaning against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest, he watches as you run the towel down your face, grumbling beneath your breath about how impossible it will be to explain your soaked robes to Professor Sprout.

Fred hasn’t even stopped to properly think about how the two of you are meant to get back to your respective common rooms without someone noticing; you’ll surely leave a trail of water in your wake, and Filch is already on high alert. Despite this, Fred can only focus on the kiss the two of you have just shared, and what it means for the future.

You sigh, slamming the towel down and turning. There’s an adorable pout on your face, eyebrows furrowed, hair still soaked and clinging to your skin.

“That really was a shock,” you say.

Fred chuckles. “Just the bit where we took a swim?”

“And the bit where you saved me from drowning.”

“And the bit when we resurfaced and you-”

You groan, waving your hands in front of you as if swatting a fly. “Awk, don’t. I never do anything like that. I probably did it all wrong-”

“You didn’t.”

“Kissing is just something I never got the hang of. I’ve only done it a few times, because I don’t really tend to like people that way, but-”

“But I’m a special case?”

You scowl, deflating. “You know you are.”

Fred grins that cheeky grin of his, pushing away from the door. He wades towards you and stops only when he’s close enough that you have to crane your neck to look into his eyes. “I think you got the hang of kissing perfectly fine. You’re a bloody natural.”

You blink. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” With that, Fred leans down and presses his lips to your own. It’s only slow, slow enough that Fred can feel you melt into him, your rib cage suddenly coming against his own, your fingertips brushing delicately against his waist. It’s adorable, feeling you lose yourself like this, barely registering what is actually happening.

He pulls away just as slow, so you can feel everything when he does so. Your eyes stay closed for a second before opening, lower lip retreating between your teeth, face hot when Fred brings his hands up to your jaw.

“Does - Okay, well, stupid question, but does this make us a couple?” you ask.

Fred laughs. “If you want, yeah.”

“Do you -”

“Oh, Y/N, don’t even ask that; you know full well I want to be your boyfriend. Full. Well.”

A grin splits your face. “Okay.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around his middle and placing your chin in the centre of his chest. “Yeah.”

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fic #fred weasley #harry potter x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley fanfic #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #weasley twins #weasley twins fanfiction #weasley twins fanfic #weasley twins x reader #weasley twins fic

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years ago

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Enough - George Weasley

Title: Enough Pairing: George x Fem!Reader, Adrian Pucey x Fem!Reader Summary: Losing the girl of his dreams was never in George’s plan, and watching her marry someone else certainly wasn’t either. He can only hope that it’s not too late to make things right. Warning: mentions of vomiting, alcohol abuse and comments that can be references to child abuse, but nothing is specifically mentioned. A/N: I combined two different requests for this one because they were pretty similar! So this is for the anons who wanted George crashing the wedding off the woman he loves! Feedback is always welcome!! Tags: @feltondarling @pandaxnienke @raerae27 @thefifthweasley

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“There’s my girl,” George greets happily as Y/N skips towards him out of the Arithmancy classroom. He’s still slightly out of breath from running there from Herbology, but it doesn’t stop him from wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist and lifting her up slightly.

“George!” Y/N giggles, wrapping her arms around his neck when he finally puts her back on the ground. “You can’t have missed me that much,” she teases, before pulling him down into a brief kiss. “You could have just waited for me in Transfiguration.”

George kisses Y/N again briefly before he grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers. They head towards McGonagall’s classroom slowly as the hall starts to fill with students heading towards the last lesson of the day. “I could have waited for you. But I wanted to walk you to class. I’m a gentleman after all, Y/N.”

“Mhm, sure you are,” Y/N teases, a pink flush on her cheeks.

George truly is her prince charming come to life. Despite the fact that they’ve been together for over three years, George is still finding ways to surprise Y/N and make her feel special. Every evening before a big test there’s a red rose and a bar of her favorite chocolate on her pillow, whenever she gets ready to leave school for a holiday break one of George’s jumpers ends up folded neatly in her trunk and most days George runs across the castle to make sure he can walk Y/N to class, even if it makes him late for his own.

“You break my heart, Y/N,” he jokes, using his grip on her hand to twirl her in a circle. He watches as a smile spreads across her cheeks, his heart pounding in his chest.

From the moment he first talked to Y/N his heart has beat for her and only her. George often feels like he gets lost in a sea of Weasleys, like he’s the one everyone glazes over. To George it seems like all of his siblings stand out in some way, Bill is the oldest, Charlie has his cool job with the dragons, Percy is the smart one, Fred is the loud charming one, Ron is the goofball who’s friends with Harry Potter and of course Ginny is the strong willed younger sister, while he’s just kind of there. He’s always felt like an extension of Fred, he’s George of Fred and George. And he loves being half of the dynamic duo that they are, he loves causing mischief and chaos with his brother. But sometimes he wants to be just George.

Y/N was the first person to just see him. He remembers the day it happened like it was yesterday. It was dinner time, and most of the people at the Gryffindor table were watching Fred recount their great escape from Filch after they charmed his broom to fly away every time he tried to grab it. Everyone seemed to be entranced by him, except for Y/N. She was sitting on George’s other side, completely oblivious to Fred’s antics. She had nudged him and asked what he thought of the transfiguration quiz they’d had the day before. Despite the fact that they were in the same year, George had never spoken to Y/N. She was pretty quiet and kept to herself, far away from the chaos George and Fred created.

But that night she had sought George out, and it made butterflies erupt in his stomach. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but he enjoyed it all the same. They had sat there and talked about which transfiguration spells they found most useful until dinner was over, and they had to head back to the common room. From then on just the sight of Y/N increased George’s heart rate and made butterflies appear in his stomach. Every time he felt himself getting lost in Fred’s shadow Y/N was there, usually with some kind of thought provoking question that would distract him.

When he finally got the courage to ask her on a date they had sat in the Three Broomsticks for hours, sharing shy glances and talking about anything that came to mind. George had asked Y/N how she knew transfiguration was his favorite class, and she revealed that she often watched him in the common room, and it was the only book he ever seemed to open. George had kissed her right there in the middle of the pub, his heart feeling like it was about to pound out of his chest. Y/N had seen him. Just him. And it made George feel like the most special person in the world. From that day on George didn’t care that most people only saw him as that Weasley boy. Or that he was only known to the masses as George of Fred and George. Because Y/N saw him as just George, and that was enough for him.

They reach the Transfiguration classroom then, and George pulls Y/N in for another brief kiss. “You’re my everything,” he breathes, holding her face in his hands.

“Everything okay, George?” Y/N asks, turning her head to press a kiss to his palm. While it’s normal for George to be affectionate, he usually saves such sentiments for when they’re alone and away from prying ears. Mostly Fred’s ears, but it’s unlike him to say something so meaningful while there’s students swirling around them.

Before George has a chance to answer McGonagall is sticking her head out of the classroom door and ushering them inside so class can begin.

“Next week? What do you mean we’re leaving next week?” George asks Fred incredulously.

Fred shushes George and looks to make sure no one heard before leaning in closer to his brother. “Yes, next week. I’m tired of dealing with mega bitch Umbridge and everything else is ready to go. The sooner we get into the space in Diagon Alley the sooner we can open up business and start taking over the world.”

George sighs and rubs his hands over his face. “I thought we would have more time. Leave closer to the end of the school year.”

“You’re not chickening out on me, are you, Georgie?” Fred jokes. When George doesn’t say anything Fred’s face drops. “Are you?” he asks again, his tone more serious.

“I wouldn’t say chickening out,” George mumbles.

Fred slams his fist down on the table, causing George to jump. “We’ve talked about this, George. We’ve dreamed about this, for years. I can’t do it without you, you know that. How can you just abandon me?”

“Oh, stop being such a drama queen,” George responds with an eyeroll. “I’m all in, of course I am.” He bites his lip. “It’s Y/N that I’m worried about.”

“You’re such a fucking sap George, honestly,” Fred teases, ruffling George’s hair. “So, you’re dipping out of school a few months early? What’s the big deal? She’ll graduate, you guys will get married and make a fuck ton of ginger babies. You think she’s going to stop loving you because you don’t finish school or something?”

The thought of his future with Y/N spikes George’s heart rate, and he has to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. “I don’t know. Something like that. What if she doesn’t think I’m good enough for her anymore? Or she forgets about me or something?”

“Now you’re being an idiot. Y/N is crazy in love with you, George. Like you’re the center of her universe sort of love. Mum and Dad kind of love.” Fred watches George for a moment, frowning when his brother refuses to meet his gaze. “Invite her to come with us if you’re so torn up about it, Georgie,” he suggests softly.

“What?” George asks, unable to believe what he’s hearing. Fred usually loves to tease George about how Y/N has him wrapped around her finger, and usually his remarks are accompanied by him pretending to crack a whip. George knows that it’s his way of showing his approval of their relationship, so it doesn’t bother him too much. But it doesn’t make it any less weird to hear Fred be so blatantly supportive of George and Y/N.

“Invite her along. Having an extra set of hands while we start everything up wouldn’t hurt, and Y/N is the perfect candidate. She’s way smarter than the two of us combined and she’s the perfect balance to all of our chaos. She’ll keep us grounded.” Fred rolls his eyes when George still doesn’t seem satisfied. “Okay, spill it. You clearly have been worrying about this for a while. What’s going on in that big ‘ol head of yours?”

George leans back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. His and Fred’s grand exit from school and how Y/N fits in to all of it has been weighing on his mind for weeks. The thought of bringing Y/N along crossed his mind ages ago, and as much as he wishes it was a viable option it’s not. For one, Y/N has always dreamed of being an Arithmancer. Arithmancy fascinates her to no end, and George has spent endless hours admiring her as she pours over different books, always making sure to listen to everything she tells him. He doesn’t want to take that away from her. She’ll need her NEWTS in order to work in the field, and if she comes to work at the joke shop now she’ll never be able to.

But mostly, he’s completely and utterly terrified of the joke shop failing. He and Fred have found success with their products within Hogwarts walls, but taking them out to the world at large is a huge risk. They’ve put every ounce of energy and what little money they have into it, and if it fails they’ll have nothing to fall back on. And George can’t subject Y/N to that. She deserves to have the world handed to her on a platter and even though George’s love for her reaches the end of the universe, that’s not enough to give her the life she deserves. They’ve talked about what they hope their future holds, and George wants to give Y/N everything her heart desires. But he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to do that, and his worst nightmare is letting her down.

“There’s a lot going on,” he admits honestly, choosing to ignore Fred’s tease. “I think I know what I have to do about Y/N and I’ve just been trying to deny it. But it’s the only option.”

“What’s that, George?” Fred asks, but he fears he might already know the answer.

George looks at Fred, a sullen look on his face. “I have to break up with her.”

“Tell me what’s wrong, Georgie. Please,” Y/N asks quietly, looking up at George.

It’s Saturday afternoon, and they’re laying together on George’s bed. It’s a Hogsmeade day, so they’re completely alone, just enjoying being together. George is laying on his back with Y/N cuddled on top of him, one of his hands is under her shirt, pressed against the small of her back while the other is holding one of her hands in his. He and Fred are leaving Monday afternoon, and George is trying to enjoy his last fleeting moments with Y/N.

“It’s nothing, baby. Just thinking about stuff,” he responds, his eyes refusing to leave the ceiling and meet hers.

Y/N presses a kiss to George’s bare chest before nuzzling the soft skin. “Thought we didn’t keep secrets from each other?” Ever since the day George walked with her to Transfiguration Y/N has been able to tell that something is off with him. Usually she can read him like an open book, and the fact that she can’t tell what’s going on in his head scares her.

George digs his fingers into the skin of Y/N’s back. He can feel her heartbeat against his chest, and he’s sure she can hear how loudly his heart is pounding in his. “Baby,” George coos, finally looking down at her. “Look at me, please.” When Y/N finally looks up at him George can see tears pooling in her eyes and it breaks his heart. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything in this world. You know that, right?”

“George,” Y/N breathes, squeezing his hand tightly. Normally George confessing his love for Y/N makes her feel dizzy, and makes her heart beat out of her chest. But this feels different to her. Like it’s the last time he’s ever going to say those things to her. “Don’t do this, George. Please.”

George swallow thickly. “I can’t be with you anymore, Y/N. I’m not. I’m not good enough for you. I don’t deserve you and I never have. You deserve the universe and try as I might I’m not the person who can give that to you. I’ve been telling myself I am, but I’m just not, Y/N.”

Tears stream down both of their faces and when Y/N surges forward to kiss George she can feel his tears mixing with hers on her cheeks. She kisses him hard, desperately trying to get him to return it. “Georgie please. I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything before.”

“I know you do,” George says sadly. “But I don’t deserve your love. I’m sorry, Y/N. But it’s over between us.” George watches as Y/N scrambles out of his bed before turning on his side so he doesn’t have to see the woman he loves walk out of his life for good. The sound of the door slamming shut behind Y/N punches a crater in George’s chest, and he finally lets himself sob into his pillow.

“Turn that frown upside down,” Y/N’s mother tuts as she enters Y/N’s bedroom. “Today is supposed to be a day to celebrate. You should be happy.”

Y/N is sitting in front of the vanity in her bedroom, and she locks eyes with her mother in the mirror. Today is her graduation party, a day Y/N had been looking forward to since her parents started planning it at the beginning of the school year. But then George Weasley shattered her heart to pieces two months ago and she’s failed to find the joy in anything since. Y/N is surprised that she even managed to make it through the rest of the school year. The last thing she wants to do is pretend to be hopeful about her future in front of a room full of people when the future she’s spent the last 3 years dreaming about no longer has any possibility of becoming a reality.

“I don’t want to be happy,” Y/N responds lamely. “And I don’t want to pretend to be happy either.”

Y/N’s mother’s expression turns cold. “Your father and I have put up with your dramatics long enough, Y/N and we will not tolerate you embarrassing us today. So get yourself together, get dressed and put a damn smile on your face. This party is happening whether you want it or not.”

“Ugh!” Y/N huffs once her mother is gone, knocking her brush off of her vanity. Of course, today isn’t about her. It’s about her parents showing her off to all of their pureblood friends. Not only had George been the love of Y/N’s life, but he’d been her salvation, her savior from the horrid life her parents had been grooming her for. Y/N’s parents had raised her traditionally, and from a young age it was clear to her that she was going to marry a pureblood boy whether she loved him or not. And even though the Weasley family doesn’t prescribe to many of the pureblood traditions Y/N’s family does, their blood is as pure as can be and her parents reluctantly approved of their relationship.

Y/N and George had talked about what their future would look like, and they both easily came to the conclusion that it would include getting as far away from Y/N’s family as possible. Y/N sparred George from the more intimate details of her childhood but told him enough to make it clear she didn’t want anything to do with her parents once she was an adult. They decided on a large house on a hill in the country, near where George grew up. So their kids could run around barefoot and free, causing all the chaos they want. As graduation had neared, Y/N figured along with it would come a ring on her finger. George had promised to whisk her away from her family as soon as he could, he promised that he would be her new family and it was all they would need. But George had also promised to love Y/N forever. And now all she has left of him are his broken promises to match her broken heart.

Of course, Y/N’s parents had been thrilled when she returned home from Hogwarts with the news that she and George had broken up. All they’ve ever wanted was for Y/N to marry a pureblood boy that would take care of her and give them perfect pureblood grandchildren to spoil. Y/N is their only child, and therefore the only hope of their family legacy continuing on. They had been okay with Y/N marrying George not because they wanted her to be happy, but because they thought giving her what she wanted would give them the opportunity to instill their values in her children, so their traditions could carry on. But now that Y/N and George are no longer together, her possible mates are endless, and they’ve spent much of the past week discussing which son of their friends is best suited to marry her.

Not wanting to face her mother’s wrath, Y/N complies with her wishes. She fixes her hair just right, and puts on enough makeup to accentuate her features, before she changes out of her pajamas and into the expensive silk ballgown her mother had custom made. Y/N is sure it costs more than what most wizards make in a month, and the feeling of the smooth fabric against her skin makes Y/N want to throw up.

“There’s my princess,” Y/N’s father greets as she comes down the stairs.

Every click of her heels against the marble floor makes her stomach lurch, and Y/N can see her hand shake as she reaches out to take the arm her father has offered her. Guests have started to arrive, so she plasters her best fake smile onto her face. “Hi Daddy,” she greets, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Y/N lets her father guide her around the room, shaking the hand of every person they meet and pretending to be interested in what they have to say to her. Y/N is great at pretending, she’s spent her whole life watching her parents pretend to love each other. They had been paired together in an arranged marriage and while they love to put on a show as the perfect couple for their friends, Y/N knows that they sleep in separate bedrooms and her father has had a string of mistress’ her whole life. Everything they do is for the sake of appearances. They don’t care about genuine happiness or pure love, as long as they give off the illusion that they hold those things. George had made Y/N feel both of those things, and now she’s not sure if she’ll ever get to experience them again.

After taking Y/N around the room to greet everyone, her father gets distracted in a conversation with Lucius Malfoy and Y/N takes the opportunity to get away. Her mother has strategically placed a few of their house elves near the staircase so Y/N can’t sneak back up to her room. Instead she finds an empty table as far away from everyone as possible and sulks over to it, sinking down in one of the chairs.

“Why the long face?” a familiar voice asks as they approach Y/N.

Y/N looks up, mustering up the best fake smile she can. “Oh, Adrian! How nice to see you!”

Adrian rolls his eyes as he takes a seat next to Y/N. “You don’t have to pull that crap with me. You know that, Y/N.”

Y/N sighs in relief, and lets her sullen expression take over again. Adrian grew up in the estate next door to Y/N, so Y/N spent a lot of time with him growing up. She spent time with the children of her parent’s other friends as well, but Adrian is the only one she truly considered a friend. He found many of the things his parents taught him utterly ridiculous as well, and it allowed them to grow closer. Their friendship had ultimately faded when they arrived at Hogwarts and Adrian was sorted into Slytherin and Y/N was sorted into Gryffindor, but Y/N still considers him a friend.

“Thanks. I think if I have to pretend to smile one more time my face will actually freeze that way,” she jokes.

“Yeah, I heard about that. About George. I’m sorry.” Adrian reaches out to give Y/N a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Pretty sure the whole fucking world has heard about it at this point. You should have seen how happy my parents were when they found out. Pretty sure it was the only time either of them has felt genuine joy.”

“Yeah, I heard your dad talking about it with mine the night after we got back from school,” Adrian says. “I see he went out and bought you that diamond bracelet,” he comments, gesturing towards the piece of jewelry on her wrist.

Y/N snorts in laughter. “Graduation present my fucking ass. Only my parents would give me a present to celebrate my heart getting stomped on. Fucking pricks.”

Adrian reaches out and puts his hand on top of Y/N’s, giving it a sympathetic squeeze. “I really am sorry, you know. I could tell how much you loved him.”

“He was my everything,” Y/N admits sadly. As weird as it sounds, it feels good to be talking about this with Adrian. Her parents clearly think one week is a sufficient amount of time to get over a three-year long relationship and she’s been dying to talk about her feelings with someone. “We had plans, you know? Turns out he had plans of his own.”

Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes has been the front-page story of the Daily Prophet since it’s opening last month. The store has been breaking records left and right and people can’t seem to get enough of it. The store was packed with people when Y/N went to Diagon Alley with her mother for a dress fitting earlier in the week and the sight of the store alone made her want to cry.

“You didn’t know? About the store?”

Y/N shakes her head. “I knew he and Fred wanted to start one. He had talked about it loads, it always made him so excited. I just didn’t know how close they were to making it a reality. Though I suppose that was on purpose, since he dumped me right before opening. I guess the future we talked about starting wasn’t good enough for him.”

“He’s a dick, Y/N. You’re amazing. He should have been on his knees praising you everywhere you went. Any guy would be tripping over themselves to give you anything and everything you could ever want,” Adrian comforts, squeezing her hand again.

Y/N smiles her first genuine smile in months, completely unaware that her mother is watching her intensely, a plan forming in her head.

Y/N wakes up the next morning to a soft knock at her door. She lets out a yawn and stretches before muttering a soft ‘come in.’ She figures it’s one of the house elves, so when Y/N’s mother enters her room with her father trailing behind her stomach lurches and she sits up. “What’s going on? Did Nan die?”

“Oh of course not, it’s nothing like that Y/N,” her mother assures with a laugh, sitting down on the edge of her bed.

“We just have something to talk to you about,” her father says from his spot in the doorway.

Y/N sighs a breath of relief. Ever since her grandfather passed away Y/N’s Nan has become much more vocal about her distaste for some pureblood traditions and she’s the only family member Y/N can even remotely tolerate. “Thank God. What do we need to talk about then?”

“Your father and I have been talking a lot since your graduation about the next steps in your life,” her mother starts. “Marriage, children, things like that.”

“And we know that you thought that Weasley boy was going to marry you but it’s time to be realistic about things,” her father says firmly.

Y/N rolls her eyes to keep from crying. “Do we really need to talk about this right now? I just woke up.”

“Yes, we do. Because I saw the way you were talking with Adrian Pucey yesterday, and told your father all about it so he could have a conversation with his father.”

Y/N’s stomach drops, and her chest starts to tighten. “No. No you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.” The tears she’d tried to avoid a moment ago start to form in her eyes.

“I did,” her father confirms. “He agrees that you and Adrian would be a perfect match. Adrian already has a job in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry making good money, and his father has agreed to pay for your estate if your mother and I pay for the wedding.”

“No,” Y/N cries softly, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. Adrian isn’t a bad person, but Y/N always hoped she’d marry for love, not for connections.

“Oh quit the dramatics, Y/N. Adrian comes from a good family, you should be happy,” Y/N’s mother squeezes her leg a little too tightly to be comforting as she stands up. “Now get out of bed and get yourself ready. Adrian will be by with his family this afternoon to formally propose so that the announcement can be printed in tomorrow’s Daily Prophet.”

Once her parents have disappeared Y/N collapses back into bed and sobs.

“Will you at least act like you’ve touched a woman before, Adrian!” Adrian’s mother scolds from somewhere behind the camera.

Adrian sighs and gives Y/N an apologetic look before placing his hand on the small of her back. They’ve been trying to get the perfect photo to include with their engagement announcement for the past 20 minutes, and Y/N feels like a doll being played with. Her and Adrian are standing facing each other, and per her mother’s demands Y/N has her left hand on his bicep to show off the fat diamond sitting on her finger while her right hand rests on Adrian’s shoulder. One of Adrian’s hands is cupping her cheek, while the other rests on the small of her back. At least now it does, Adrian has spent the last five photos with it just hovering over her body.

“Okay, now look at each other like you’re in love,” Y/N’s mother demands. Y/N looks into Adrian’s eyes and plasters her best fake smile onto her face and she can hear her mother make a satisfied noise. “Now as the picture is taken Adrian I want you to lean in and kiss Y/N’s forehead.”

Adrian opens his mouth to protest, but Y/N gives him a look. “Just do it,” she murmurs between gritted teeth as she continues to smile. “I just wanna get this shit over with.”

When the photographer tells them to move they do, and the flash of the camera nearly blinds Y/N as Adrian kisses her on the forehead to complete the photo. Thankfully the photo seems to satisfy both their mothers, and Adrian and Y/N can finally break apart as they head into the other room with the photographer to write the announcement.

“I’m really sorry about all of this,” Adrian apologizes.

Y/N collapses onto the couch with a sigh. “It’s not your fault our parents are the way they are.”

“I know,” Adrian responds, sitting down next to her. “But you’re very obviously still in love with George. This can’t be easy.”

“It really fucking sucks,” Y/N admits with a sad laugh. “I always thought we’d skip all of this bullshit stuff and just get married in his parent’s backyard or something. I don’t care about all of this traditional crap. I mean who even reads those stupid engagement announcements? Why do people care who’s getting married?”

Adrian laughs. “I’m sure no one we know does. It’s just for them to show off to all of their friends. Your mum can show the picture off and brag about how big that stupid diamond is, and my dad can show it off and brag about how hot of a wife he found me.”

“Ew,” Y/N grimaces, a shiver running down her spine. “I really hope no one we know sees it. Not because you’re a bad person or anything, but just because of how embarrassing that photo is gonna be.” In reality, Y/N hopes that no one in George’s family ever sees that picture.

“Nice of you to finally join the living,” Fred comments as he watches George shuffle out of his bedroom. It’s Saturday, so the shop opens a bit later than usual and George has decided to take full advantage and sleep in. Fred puts the Daily Prophet down and pours his brother a cup of coffee as George sits across from him.

“Very funny,” he groans, grabbing the cup and taking a large gulp.

George should feel like he’s on top of the world. Their shop is a huge success, he and Fred are living on their own and they’re finally making some real money. But in reality he feels like shit. He hasn’t felt the same since he broke up with Y/N. His chest feels empty and hollow without her in his life, and he spends all day at the store pretending to be his usual jovial self only to lock himself in his room with a bottle of firewhiskey every night. He knows drinking is not the way to solve his problems, but the firewhiskey burns his throat as it goes down, and it’s the only time of day where he truly feels alive.

“You reek, George. How much did you drink last night?” Fred asks, his voice full of concern. Over the past two months Fred has watched George slowly become a shell of the person he once was. He fakes it quite well for everyone else, but Fred can see through all the bullshit. He feels absolutely helpless as he watches George destroy himself, and Fred’s starting to get desperate.

George shrugs, taking another sip. “I don’t know. Half a bottle, maybe more. Who cares?”

“I do,” Fred insists. “You can’t keep living like this George. I’m worried about you.” Fred pauses. “I know you still care about Y/N-“

“Don’t,“ George says harshly, cutting Fred off. “Don’t talk about her, don’t even say her name. She’s all I can fucking think about and it hurts too much to hear you say it.”

“Okay,” Fred says softly, picking the paper back up. He starts to flick through the pages mindlessly, just trying to seem occupied to give George some space. Fred wants to help him, but he also doesn’t want to push him deeper into his depression. He’s just turned the page to the engagement announcements when George clears his throat.

“You get to the engagement announcements yet?” George asks. When Fred looks up at him confused George rolls his eyes. “Lee and I have a bet going, to see how long it takes for someone from our class to show up in them. You know how those traditionalists are, they pair their kids off before the ink on their diplomas starts to dry.”

Fred laughs, and let’s his eyes scan the page for a moment. He’s about to hand the paper to George when his eye catches a rather large photo. He gasps and immediately crushes the paper up. “Nope. No one from our class yet.”

“You’re full of shit,” George chides, narrowing his eyes. “Come on, give it here. If there’s an announcement in there I win 10 galleons.”

Fred holds the paper just out of George’s reach. “I told you there’s nothing in there. No Galleons for you. Now drink your coffee and get ready so we can head down into the shop.”

George gets up as if he’s going to head towards the bathroom, but he ends up charging at Fred and grabbing the paper from him. “I don’t know what your problem is, did Lee promise you part of his winnings or something?” George opens the paper, letting his eyes scan the announcements. He’s not really paying attention to the photos, just trying to find a name that sounds familiar. “Ha! There it is! Adrian Pucey, who would have thought.” But as George continues to read the announcement bile comes up his throat and he throws the paper down so he can run to the bathroom and heave into the toilet.

Y/N strolls through Diagon Alley slowly, basking in the freedom. Ever since the engagement announcement appeared in the Daily Prophet her house has become wedding central. Gifts and cards from distant family members and acquaintances arrive in droves every day, and Y/N’s mother is driving her crazy with the plans. Every day from the moment she wakes up until the moment she goes to bed is filled with wedding decisions that she truly doesn’t give a shit about. She doesn’t care about the seating chart or the color scheme. The only thing she cares about is that she’s not marrying George Weasley, and no matter how many plans they make that fact will never change.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Y/N apologizes. She’d been so lost in thought she ran right into someone. She looks up at the man she bumped into and her heart stops beating when she looks into a pair of familiar brown eyes and spots a shock of fiery red hair. But a moment later she realizes it’s not who she thinks it is. “Oh. Fred.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Fred sneers, suddenly filling with rage. He knows what happened between Y/N and George is not her fault, but his resentment towards her has started to grow since the engagement announcement. George has stopped leaving his room at all, and the sound of his drunken sobs keep Fred up at night. It kills Fred to see his brother hurting, and he can’t help but blame Y/N for all of it.

“You saw it then?” Y/N asks, hanging her head in shame.

“Even if I didn’t that god-awful gaudy diamond on your hand is a dead giveaway.” Fred clears his throat. “George did too.”

Y/N’s head snaps up and she can feel tears forming in her eyes. “No, no, no. He wasn’t supposed to see that. Is he okay? How’s he doing?” Y/N watches as Fred’s jaw clenches. “Please, Fred. I need to know.”

“Why do you care?” he practically shouts. “So you can go and laugh about it with Adrian? I can’t believe you, Y/N. George gave you his all. You were his entire world. You were apart what? Two months? And now you’re about to get married to some other fuck head. Why? Because he has money? Because his family has a better status?”

Y/N wipes away some of the tears that have started to fall down her cheeks. “Fuck you, Fred. I don’t care about any of that, you know that. And do I need to remind you that George is the one who broke up with me? I trusted him with my heart, and he crushed it. All I ever wanted was George, all I still want is George.”

Fred takes a deep breath, needing to calm himself down. “Then why the hell are you marrying Adrian? George is beside himself. He doesn’t even come out of his room anymore.”

“You think I have a choice?” Y/N asks, her voice cracking under the weight of the emotions she’s feeling. “I’m not marrying Adrian because I love him, I’m marrying Adrian because my parents arranged it to be that way. My parents are vile, Fred. They don’t see me as their daughter, I’m a pawn for them to play with. It’s either submit or be punished and I’m not going to stand here and let you make me feel even worse than I already do.”

Fred grabs Y/N’s wrist as she turns to walk away, and he pulls her into a tight hug. “Y/N, I had no idea. George said your parents were traditionalists, but he never mentioned anything like that.”

“Because I never told him,” Y/N admits as she pulls away from Fred. She wipes away a few of the lingering tears as she looks up at him. “George is too innocent, too pure to know about the shit they put me through growing up. George is the only person who ever truly made me feel loved and without him I feel like I’m in a horrible nightmare that I can never wake up from.”

“You can’t marry Adrian, Y/N. You and George, you guys are soulmates,” Fred says quietly. “You have to be together.”

Y/N scoffs. “Tell your brother that, he’s the one who dumped me out of nowhere. Clearly he doesn’t feel the same away about me as I do him.”

“You can’t seriously believe that, Y/N. George is going crazy without you. He barely eats, he barely sleeps.” Fred swallows thickly. “He’s been drinking. A lot. Way more than anyone should. It’s scary. Every time I try and talk to him he shuts me out. He’s lost without you.”

The ache Y/N has felt in her chest since the day George ended things intensifies with Fred’s every word. It kills her to know that George is hurting just as much as she is. “I still love him, Fred. With every fiber of my being. But I don’t know if that’s enough anymore. Everything’s gotten so complicated.”

“Just promise me one thing. Promise me that you won’t walk down that aisle and marry Adrian until you talk to George.” Y/N opens her mouth to say something, but Fred puts his hand up to stop her. “I’ll take care of George. I’ll Stupefy him and drag him to you if I have to. Just promise me you won’t marry him until you see George.”

“I promise, Fred. The wedding is next week on Friday. I’ll wait for George until the moment I have to walk down the aisle. But if he doesn’t make it.” Y/N shakes her head. “It’ll be too late.”

When Fred gets back to their flat after his conversation with Y/N he’s filled with determination. George is the person he cares most about in the world and he’ll be damned if he lets him ruin is life. He goes straight to George’s bedroom door, using his wand to unlock it. He throws it open, flipping on the light switch.

“What do you want you fucking prick?” George groans, rolling over in his bed.

Fred carefully moves around the firewhiskey bottles strewn about on the floor and heads over to the window. He throws the curtains open, letting the sunlight shine on George for the first time in weeks. “Get your ass out of bed. You’re done wallowing in self-pity.”

“Fuck you,” George grumbles, opening his eyes to glare at Fred. “What’s the point in doing anything anymore? I ruined my chance with the only girl I’ve ever wanted. She’s supposed to marry me, Fred. Not that fucking moron Adrian. He doesn’t love her like I do, and he never will. But she doesn’t deserve me. Not anymore anyway.”

Fred sighs and sits down on the edge of George’s bed. “You’re right, he doesn’t love her like you do. And she doesn’t love him either.”

“Nice try, Fred. But I’m not getting out of this bed no matter how many lies you tell me,” George sighs, before turning over in bed.

“Her parents are making her marry Adrian, George,” Fred says firmly.

George turns back to face Fred and sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I’m sorry what did you say?”

“I ran into Y/N, when I was down in Diagon Alley. I really let her have it, Georgie. I told her off for getting with Adrian so soon after you ended it with her, and she just broke down crying.” Fred reaches out and puts a comforting hand on George’s knee. “She’s in love with you, George. Not him. Her parents arranged their marriage, she doesn’t have a choice.”

George puts his head in his hands, letting Fred’s words sink in. Of course, it all makes sense to him now. Y/N had once briefly mentioned that her parents never loved each other, George had brushed it off at the time, but it’s all becoming clear. Arranged marriages between pureblood families is pretty commonplace, and he feels like an idiot for not realizing it sooner.

“I’m such a fucking idiot, Freddie,” George groans, looking up at his brother. “I never should have even dumped her in the first place. What the fuck was I thinking? I was scared of disappointing her when in reality I was being a big fat idiot.”

“Big fat idiot is right,” Fred teases, trying to get George to smile. “But the important part is that it’s not too late. I made her promise not to marry him until she talks to you again.”

“Why didn’t you start with that?” George asks, finally cracking a smile. “So what’s the plan then?”

Fred grins at George, his eyes alight with mischief. “We’ve got a wedding to crash.”

Y/N fidgets as she stands in the middle of her room, unable to keep herself from glancing at the clock. She’s standing there in her wedding dress, thirty minutes away from walking down the aisle and she’s yet to see George or hear from Fred. The possibility that George doesn’t want to see her ever again makes her want to throw up, but she has to hold out hope that he’s going to show up. She knows now more than ever that George is the person she’s supposed to end up with, and she prays that Fred made him realize that too.

“There’s my girl.”

At the sound of George’s voice Y/N turns around a smile spreading on her face. “George,” she greets. In the blink of an eye George is across the room and wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling Y/N into his chest. Y/N wraps her arms around George’s neck and presses their lips together in a desperate kiss.

“I love you,” George murmurs as they pull apart. “I have always loved you Y/N. Breaking up with you was the worst decision I made in my entire life.”

Y/N can feel the tears falling down her face, and she presses their foreheads together. “Why did you do it, George? You mean everything to me. I would walk to the ends of the earth to be with you. You have to know that.”

“I do baby, I do,” George whispers, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I was scared of letting you down. You are a Goddess, Y/N. You deserve to have the world handed to you on a silver platter and I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to give that to you. You deserve the future we dreamed of having, and it killed me to think you’d never get that with me.”

“I don’t care about having any of that. All I care about is having you,” Y/N admits, kissing George briefly. “You made me feel safe, and happy and loved, and that’s all I need, George.”

George kisses Y/N again, needing to feel her lips on his. “I know that now. And I really hope it’s not too late to give that all to you, Y/N. You are the only person who has ever made me feel special, the only person who’s ever bothered to look at me. And if you let me I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you feel special too.”

“I love you, George. It’s always been you. It will always be you.” Y/N breathes in deeply as George kisses her again, finally feeling like she’s home.

“I love you so much and as much as I would love to stand here and kiss you forever we gotta go. Fred should be almost done setting things up by now. Get changed and grab some stuff, okay?”

Y/N nods and gets undressed, throwing on whatever clothes her hands reach first. She throws a few of her favorite things into her school trunk, which is still packed with her things from the end of the school year. “Good riddance,” Y/N mumbles as she yanks off her engagement ring and throws it onto her dresser.

“Ready to go?” George asks, grabbing Y/N’s trunk.

Just as her hand closes around her wand explosions start to go off and people downstairs start screaming. “What the hell is that?” she asks, hooking an arm around George’s.

George grins down at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “A new line of whizbangs we’re testing out. A little goodbye present for your parents and Adrian.”

“Well would you look at that,” George chuckles as he reads the paper.

Y/N presses a kiss to the side of his head as she sets his coffee down on the table, letting George pull her into his lap. “What’s that, love?”

George puts the paper down so he can rest one of his hands on Y/N’s ever-growing baby bump and the other can cup her cheek and pull their lips together. No matter how many years they’ve been together, kissing Y/N makes him just as giddy as the first time. “Adrian’s getting married.”

Y/N laughs and rests her hand on top of the one George has on her belly, intertwining their fingers. “Think we’ll get invited?”

“Considering the way we ruined his first wedding? Not a chance in hell.” George teases with a smile, pulling Y/N in for another kiss.

They might not have as much money as Adrian, or a big rolling estate to show off. But Y/N and George have each other and their growing family – and that’s enough for them.

#George weasley #George Weasley imagine #George Weasley x reader #gw #golden

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starlightshadowsworld · 4 years ago

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People like to think of Jason as a less impressive Percy. And I don't doubt that those at CHB thought the same thing.

They love Percy.

They tell tales off his epic showdowns during capture the flag and his MANY impressive feats.

They laugh and bring up his infamous sass and humour.

And when they see Jason, suffice to say many can't help but compare them. Campers huff at Jason's military esque training and drills, roll their eyes at the sparks that dance across his finger tips ("Seriously... Percy blew up Mount St Helens without even trying" "he's defeated Kronos... Who's this guy foolin")

Jason hears it... Of course he does, Lupa trained him and his senses are that of a wolf.

But he keeps smiling, keeps being his perfect self and it agitates them. He takes it like he's always taken these comments.

Until one day someone loudly remarks how Percy could do so much better than an irritating mutt.

And it hurts... Because Jason has always had that thought deep in his mind. The tears are already falling and he runs off to his own shame. He runs and runs till he's at the lake where he collapses onto his knees and howls in pain.

The lake seems to spring to life, ripples forming across its surface. As if knowing its beloved pain, and next thing Jason knows Percy's arms are wrapped around him.

"Hey... What's up?" Says Percy, his tone carefree but theirs concern in his eyes. He holds him like glass. But not in the way that Jason's fragile, but that he's something priceless and should be held with care.

"It's dumb..." Whispers Jason but he knows Percy, knows he won't get away with that kind of answer. So he looks down and the truth spills from his lips as tears fall all over again.

How the others ridicule him for not being Percy

How he's not good enough... Not perfect...

How Percy could do better than a lowly mutt.

On the last one Percy puts a finger to his lips and shhs him. His voice is soft but there's a raging storm hiding in his sea green eyes. "You're not me Jase, and I wouldn't want you to be. Can you imagine if there were two of me? Annabeth might just retire from Camp." He's gifted with a giggle but he continues "you're you. The guy who keeps us in line and makes sure we're all functioning like a big ol mama duck. And that's what we need, you. I need you..." Smiles Percy, wiping Jason's tears before "also you are never getting rid of me ever and I will tell your mama if you ever dare refer to my boyfriend as a lowly mutt."

At that point Jason is giggling, curled up in a ball with his head buried in Percy's top. The sunlight catches his hair and makes it look like a halo.

He smiles and after a while leads Jason back to Cabin 3 and keeps on smiling before Leo and Annabeth walk over with angry expressions with a list of names.

There was rage in their eyes but Percy's was unmatched as they found the group of campers....the campers that made Jason doubt himself and cry.

"... So... I heard you insulted Jason... You know my little ray of sunshine and the light of my life...."

They all go pale as Percy glares at them, resembling his lovers lighting and the tides all at once. "You like my powers so much... Have a demonstration...who wants to go first?"

@derpy-grackson

@perseusjackson-jasongrace

@aureateargentum

#jason grace #percy jackson #Comfort #feral jason grace #Percy is here to eat cookies and kick ass and he's all out of cookies #Leo and Annabeth are like hell no you did not hurt our team mum #Jason comforted by Percy #Overprotective percy #jercy #jason grace appreciation squad

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pastelgrungewrecker · 4 years ago

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Lucille Fur, Culture Icon || Shattered Glass

[A paid Commission gifted to @lesbian-brainstorm]

And once the water starts to rise And Heaven's out of sight She'll want the Devil on her team...

Perceptor laughed gently, crystal glass in her hand held by the tips of too-long golden nails like gilded razors as Brainstorm rolled her eyes and nudged the fellow madame scientist.

“You’re being watched, dear.”

Perceptor glanced over her bare shoulder to see a shock of red over unhidden dark circles and too bright blue eyes.

A smile.

“Let them watch. I always love a good chase.”

The whispers started slowly, and then all once- the grandiose figure of the Mad Mod Medic herself, the Autobot CMO Extraordinaire, the first surgeon in their medical history to have a 700% fatality rate during a field training exercise, the Personal Doctor of mighty Optimus Prime and the Grandest of Betrayers as she stole away on this ship with the rest of them.

[“My retirement.”, she’d called it in a smooth honeywhiskey purr, sipping a neat bourbon with hands worn by ages of scrubbing away blood and gore, “A little... Vacation. Stir the old synapses, kickstart the nerves and all that.”]

Perceptor sipped something just strong enough to relax her, noting the flickering flakes of gold hovering within it before the smell of cigarsmoke and sanitizer hovered almost too close.

“Fancy seeing a pretty little thing like you here.”, purred the CMO’s husky voice gently in Perceptor’s ear as Brainstorm threw her hands up dramatically before ghosting away from them, “Have you decided to become a pretty little butterfly for my collection?”

“Come now, Ratchet-”, cooed Perceptor with a coy giggle, “Half the fun is the rush to catch me and you know it.”

“Can’t blame me for trying- you look delightful when you’re spread out for me-”

A giggle interrupts the medic, and a peculiar flash of something in Perceptor’s eye makes goosebumps rise under Ratchet’s silken sleeves.

“Interesting- Drift said much the same...”

Shoulders shaking with titillating little giggle and Perceptor sashayed away, to the darker areas of this obnoxious “post-war peace talk” they had become embroiled in. Ratchet’s eyebrows tilted down, immediately enraged at the idea of her preferred ‘darling’ being in someone else’s arms- before she paused, and smiled almost sharkishly.

“I see.”

The pair of them lived for the chase after all. Sly glances at each other with just this side of too much distance to keep watch on the way they orbited each other- Ratchet acquiesced, she had been too.... Forward, to be sure; why, what is the fun, making such things known so soon in the night?

The circles they both ran in would cross paths, it was only a matter of time after all- Xaaron, in his self-absorbed foolishness and a hand hovering over Perceptor’s lower back as he sneered the introductions, as is customary.

Xaaron, scoffing in shock and distaste as he was brushed aside by the CMO only to watch Ratchet catch Perceptor’s ring-decorated hand in her own and bring the knuckles to chapped lips laced in bourbon and silvergilded words.

“Charmed to meet you again, Madame Macabre.”

“Likewise, Medical Officer Ratchet, sir.”

“How obscene.”, hissed Xaaron, crossing his arms but quailing under the frigid glare he received from Ratchet.

“Be quiet, desk jockey, or I’ll be taking those vocal cords and stashing them in a jam jar.”, was the flat threat, delivered in a fully audible tone and sending ripples of snickering out like the waves made by a pebble dropped in a pond.

Ratchet returned her gaze to Perceptor, gently pulling at the hand in her grip, “Now, dearest deathdealer- why not forgo the stuffy lawthumper and come along with me? Surely I can be... more interesting company.”

Perceptor’s cheeks brightened, even under her scarring, and she coyly turned away from the medic’s wicked and thin-lipped smile as a thick lock of hellfire red slid free of the doctor’s impeccably kept style to hang over one blue eye.

“I daresay I’ll take you up on the offer, Doctor.”, cooed the scientist turned sniper turned back again, “Medics always have the most trustworthy reccomendations, after all.”

Ratchet couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped her, an arm sliding around Perceptor’s waist in an act of gently lewd gallantry as the medical officer led the scientist away- the sound of a too-pristine doctor’s coat mixing with the quiet hiss of silk over scarred skin in a barely audible symphony.

And along they went; slinking through the crowd and talking low between themselves as Ratchet’s hand went from Perceptor’s waist to the swell of a hip with a teasing squeeze of the firm figure to make the sniper chuckle from the ticklish sensation- and Perceptor moved closer and hooked a finger in Ratchet’s coat pocket before whispering, “Lead the way, love.”

Ratchet’s hab hadn’t changed much except location- still dressed in the low colors and tones of their old quarters from days gone by and ages long forgotten; a few art pieces hung on the walls, furniture draped in satin or leather and the lights frosted and kept low and dim enough to worry a lesser mortal.

Perceptor strode in, all black and violet silk and low slung seams and once more glanced over a bare shoulder; feeling the way Ratchet’s eyes traced over the line of the sniper’s spine.

“And may I ask why you’re standing on parade, darling?”, said Perceptor, sly and coy and temptation at its finest, “Now that you’ve lured the damselfly into the web, act fast- we only ever last the day~”

“Oho, I quite vividly remember you lasting far beyond a single day, sugar.”, laughed Ratchet as the door chimed a note to signal it locking from the inside. Perceptor shivered as she heard the sound of a doctor’s coat being tossed aside, the hiss of a silk tie being untied.

And then Ratchet’s voice was at Perceptor’s ear again.

“Comparing me to Drift, really. How could you, sweetheart- my poor ol’ pride...”

“I can hear the Vaporex in your voice.”

“Mm, you always did like it when I dropped those med school pretenses, as you called them.”

Perceptor leaned back, feeling Ratchet’s unbuttoned shirt folded closed against her own back and huffed- she wanted skin on skin, already tired of being teased and then something slipped around her wrists.

Perceptor cursed softly, having forgotten the slyness of her partner in their games of cat-and-mouse and looking down to see a dark silk tie looped around wrists.

Ratchet chuckled low, dark and dangerous and hungry, “Someone got a little sure of herself.

“I suppose I’m out of practice with you, Ratchet.”, said Perceptor easily, shifting her shoulders so that the contact between their bodies helped the silk dress she wore slide free and fall to catch at bent elbows. Ratchet hissed a breath, and Perceptor smiled.

“Come now love- you know open back gowns look terrible when I wear something under them.”, said Perceptor airily as Ratchet’s rough lips pressed against a bare but scarred shoulder, “And I know you don’t have the patience to unwrap me tonight.”

“...You make a lovely point. But oh, such an attitude you’ve gotten on you! I’ve half a mind to take you over my knee~”

“Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time, now.”

Perceptor yelped softly as she was turned and nudged back to drop in a heap of silk and shown skin onto a couch that no doubt cost more than some of her modifications. Ratchet laughed, a wicked and hungry sound and Perceptor’s face flushed even as she grinned with eye alight.

Her hands moved to drape back over the edge of the back of the couch, tie dangling from where it secured her wrists with a slipknot- and her heeled shoes clicked softly as her legs opened to welcome Ratchet to stand between them.

“How lewd, Ratchet-”, murmured Perceptor, her skin already feeling too warm as the CMO knelt down, “Tossing me upon the couch with intent to flip back my skirts? Goodness gracious, whatever will the rest of them think?”

“Worried over your honor, dear?”, teased Ratchet as she indeed pushed Perceptor’s gown skirt up over smooth legs before humming in appreciation, “Apparently not, if this lace-and-lovely is the norm for you.”

Perceptor wriggled with a mischievous grin as Ratchet’s work-roughened hands worked over soft skin, “Oh, no- that was just a special treat for you.”

“I love how your mind works, Percy.”

The sound of silk being torn, and Perceptor yelping “RATCHET!”

The medic rolled her too-blue eyes as the torn gown fell open, sliced through with a scalpel the woman had pulled from who knew where but set up a side table, “You look better in gold and red anyway, love- You know I’ll find you something nicer to replace it with.”

A huff, “Sometimes I do wonder if you just want me wearing ‘your’ colors, Doctor.”

“You caught me.”

Perceptor opened her mouth to make a witty retort but Ratchet was pressing warm kisses to a scar dotted stomach and already the sniper was rocking her hips in a demand for heavier petting. She felt a brief touch of teeth and then the lace she wore over hips was caught and being pulled away while Ratchet’s hands were still digging knowing fingertips into muscles made tense from walking in too-high heels.

Ratchet’s lips once again went back to leaving behind bruising kisses like old rose petals over Perceptor’s thighs as a hand left the sniper’s soft figure; hooking a finger in the lingerie eased away by teeth to tug it further down.

A wriggle and a squirm and Perceptor laughed as it was swiftly removed from around ankles still trapped in the straps of heeled shoes and tossed aside to be forgotten.

“Going to have me kick off my shoes and prepare for a party?”, sassed Perceptor, hoping her voice didn’t come off as too breathless to save the charm of her witty remark.

“Mm... I much rather the idea of you bare aside from those cheeky heels of yours...”, purred Ratchet, moving to grip Perceptor’s hips and tug her closer- glancing from side to side as the snipers heeled shoes moved to rest against the medic’s back.

“Oh, you ARE feeling naughty tonight, aren’t you.”, cooed Perceptor, “I like it.”

“I know.”

Perceptor wanted to comment on the smug tone of those two words but Ratchet had other ideas- ideas that involved nipping gently at dark kissmarks and trailing the contact lower and lower as Perceptor pulled at the trailing end of the tie cinching her wrists together.

“O-oh m-MY!”

Ratchet grunted quietly, feeling the heels dig into her back through the too-well-kept shirt she wore before a quick movement of her shoulders let it begin to slide from her frame; her hands left Perceptor for only a moment to pull it away and let it fall in a puddle of high-end fabric and shiny buttons on the floor before her tongue flicked out over a swollen clit and made Perceptor shriek at the Devil’s pitch as her back arched.

“So sensitive....”, purred Ratchet, nuzzling into Perceptor’s thigh as the sniper panted already, “Someone’s pet mercenary must not be able to last long enough.”

“Hmph!”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Lucky for you, sweetheart, the Doctor’s in.”

A giggle through the blush, “Oh, you are AWFU-u-ngh!!!”

One of Ratchet’s hands slid away from Perceptor’s to-perfect hips to slide one finger slowly, carefully, between slick lips as the sniper groaned weakly; her body clenching down on the digit only for her to shudder as Ratchet curled the finger with a smile.

“We’ll take it slow, just for fun.”

“Y-You TEASE!”

“You know it.”, murmured Ratchet against Perceptor’s thigh before one finger became two, before a silver tongue came once more into play and the CMO played her partner’s synapses like an orchestral piano- every touch and tease pulling forth clarion sharps and fulls as Perceptor writhed and arched and drummed her heels against Ratchet’s now mostly bare back.

Ratchet gave a dirty hum of enjoyment, pausing in her ministrations only to lick her bitten lips clean before setting back to it with a gusto- an amused noise escaping her when Perceptor’s thighs suddenly snapped shut around her head and made her vision swim a little from the force.

The sniper’s hips rocked out of time and tempo as she whimpered and wailed Ratchet’s name, pleading for her not to stop, to never stop untilt he sniper’s legs shook and dropped open again, slipping from Ratchet’s shoulders as the heeled shoes tilted and turned from the Perceptor’s toes trying to curl while encased in patent leather.

Ratchet’s hand was sticky and saturated to the wrist, and she hadn’t bothered to count the times Perceptor’s shrieking had peaked and broken in succession but hearing the rapid two-time tattoo of the sniper whispering “Please!” in delicious desperation made the CMO’s eyes darken as she smiled from where she knelt.

She withdrew her hand, giving a gentle kiss to Perceptor’s stomach even as the sniper howled in angry desire before Ratchet loomed over her, grinning her manic grin and her blue eyes alight like glaciers over the moonrise.

“So much for only a day, darling?”, she cooed, leaning down enough for Perceptor’s still bound wrists to hook around her neck. She laughed, easily working her hands under Perceptor’s slim frame and hoisting her up into a bridal carry.

A hungry kiss between the pair of them as they retreated from the front room to the berthroom- leaving behind a hapahazardly piled dress shirt and a bit of barely there lace.

Before the berthroom door fully closed, a torn silk gown was tossed through the door way to flutter down tot he floor; followed by the door clicking shut and Perceptor’s high and wavering voice sounding out once again as Ratchet easily kept her on a knifeblade edge.

#pastelwrites #tf #ladyformers #shattered glass #perceptor #ratchet #paid work

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throbbin-bobbies · 7 years ago

Text

George Weasley x Reader

Requested: Yes By: Anon Word count: 2,909

With the ever so lovely Hogwarts being out, for the summer that is, you were getting ready to go to Britain today - England to be exact. You live in America, so once school ended you apparated back home to stay a few weeks with your family, the l/n’s, of course! You had packed a suitcase for the trip with clothes, necessities, and gifts for your boyfriend, George Weasley, and his family. But rather than magicking your suitcase to the Burrow (the Weasley’s if you weren’t aware), you put in your messenger bag that you store all of your other junk in, and it all fit snugly considering it was enchanted to be a room. Aside from that magic bag of yours, you were excited to spend time with your Georgie boy for the last month and a half, summer of 96’, before school started - well, for you anyways. George, along with Fred, had already graduated as of last year when they scared frog-face into toad-face. Beautiful analogy, right? You bet. You kissed and hugged your parents goodbye for the last half of summer, and until next summer possibly, unless you come home during one of your breaks.

They went through the whole ‘do you have everything in your bag’ fiasco: Bach (your owl)? Presents? Clothes? Books? Robes? Quidditch gear? Wand? Broom? Check times a million, you tell your parents, before hugging them one last time before apparating to Diagon Alley. You stumbled a bit when you arrived, you admit, it’s not something to take lightly when apparating to another country let alone across an entire ocean! You were a little bit out of breath as well, but you straighten yourself before looking at all the people and shops, having missed the sight of both. But one sight you couldn’t miss right now was a shop with a statue? Robot? Doesn’t matter, but what did was it was a ginger man with a top hat that has a rabbit pop out with every other time the hat comes of his head. You grin walking towards it, never having found out whether the man with the hat was supposed to be George or Fred, which was a fun topic to debate whenever brought up.You walk through the door and caused a bell to ring on top of the door, it rather annoying bell you thought. Must enchanted, it’s too malevolent sounding not to be. In fact, one could even say it’s…bellevolent!

“Welcome to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes! How can we be of ser….vice”, you see Fred slide on a ladder along the back wall, before seeing who it was he was greeting. He hopped off the ladder with a grin on his face and go over to hug - I mean squish your insides. “Long time no see, sis! I thought you were supposed to come tomorrow!”

“Yeah but I wrote to your parents and asked if I could come a day early, you know to surprise everyone and they agreed. But it won’t be a surprise if you yell it out for Georgie boy to hear”, you giggled, ending with a more hushed tone to keep hidden from George.

“Ah, I see! But no need to fret little one, Georgie’s in the back, so he didn’t hear me peep a single word outta me mouth” he gave you a pat on the back with his mischievous grin. “Speaking of which, I’ve an idea to get a good surprise from ol’ Georgie boy!”

“I’m listening”

“Alright, stand over here, by the counter…perfect!”

“Now what?”

“Slow your Thestrals, I wasn’t done” he said with a chuckle before pulling out his wand, “Imma need to improve your dress attire”

“I’m offended” you chuckle.

“Good! Now hold still”, Fred had changed your clothes to match his exactly, and lightened your hair to match his, since yours was red and he’s a ginger. But what you couldn’t tell was he changed your eyes to match his before tucking all of your hair into a top hat that looked like the one outside. “Now, his will either wear off when the hats taken off or maybe a half hour. Maybe? Yeah, that sounds about right. But when George comes just follow my lead, okay? Ah! Speak of the devil!”

George had came around the corner and looked a little puzzled at first, with the sight of two Fred’s at first glance anyone would. You look into the reflection of a small mirror on the wall and couldn’t help but chuckle, and it didn’t sound like Fred’s chuckle so at least you had your voice and body left the same, but he did do a good job creating a ‘copy’ of himself.

“Oi! Georgie, come over here! Looky who I found!”

“Fred, you never told me you had a twin brother!”

“Oh, but I did! Remember I told you how ugly and how much of a git he is!”

“How could I have forgotten!”

You had to laugh now, not only because they were too, but because you loved these two gits and their antics among other things. Your laugh, which you tried to hide behind a hand, turned into a set of fake coughs and laughs, had caught George’s attention. Both Fred and you noticed this, “Hello George, pleasure to meet you”.

“Y/n?!”

“Yessire” you say doing a slight bow, one hand behind you back, the other taking the top hat off causing everything to revert back to normal. Your black converse, jean shorts, and dark green t shirt, as well as your bag and hair returned as well. George’s face lit up with a smile and almost ran to you before picking you up and giving you a kiss, much to both of yours pleasure and Fred’s dismay.

“Quit snoggin’ you two, it’ll ruin our business!” Fred joked before he started to walk away to help a customer. You two laugh as George put you down and kissed each other again, but a little shorter this time.

“Bloody hell, y/n, I’ve missed you to death! And I thought you were supposed to come tomorrow, miss me that much did you?” he grinned.

“I’ve missed you too Georgie boy, and if you’d like I could always apparate home and come back tomorrow”

“No, no! Don’t do that, love, I’ve got so much to show you!”

“George Weasley, your Weasley Wildfire Whiz-bang doesn’t count”

George looked at you with a ‘are you kidding me’ look, followed by a witty ‘oh, but love, it’d send sparks flying’ and a wink. Damn him, you thought as you blushed.

George and Fred closed the shop a little earlier today given your arrival and the three of you apparated to the Burrow. Just in time for dinner in fact, as you smelled Molly’s great cooking when you walked through the front door while the twins yelled “We’re here mum!”. When you walked into the dining room you saw Molly for one second before she was already on you and giving you a hug, asking you how you were. You love’d Molly dearly, just like she did you, as well as Arthur and…most of the Weasley family. Ginny and Ron are the only ones that really didn’t like the idea of, well, you! The rest of the boys thought of you as their sister, even Percy did to some degree! But no, not Ginny or Ron, and you don’t know why. Well, yes you did, but you don’t see why they disliked you for thinking you only liked George for his money now that he was a very successful businessman. You and George went back to the end of your fifth and sixth years as a ‘couple’, even though you only dated then. It was rather a secret, keeping between you two and Fred, because they didn’t want ickle Ronniekins to find out yet and Fred assured them privacy by covering for you. Reason why you were dating in ‘secret’ was because you two knew all of George’s family would freak out, but yours would more. Aside from that, George asked you to be his girlfriend, or ‘partner in crime’ as he had put it when he asked you, in the middle of his seventh and your sixth year. Which makes all the more reason why you weren’t just about the money as Ginny had convinced Ron to believe, or visa versa, you didn’t really care how it started because you two just wanted it to end.

Dinner that night was overall amazing, you had hugged the rest of the family that was there. Bill was still out soon girl something for work, but Charlie was here and so was Percy. You gave everyone their presents, Charlie a big, thick illustrative book about dragon much to his interest and pleasure, Arthur you gave some muggle money from different countries in a little glass frame which he greatly appreciated and was fascinated by. You then gave Molly her present, you had got her a dress that she said she loved when you two went shopping once, and she absolutely loved it, along with a muggle book with different knitting patterns in it having said she wanted to learn new patterns. Next was Ginny, who you had gotten her new gloves, bracers, and shin guards for quidditch, because you could see hers were old, even though she hates your guts you had to be decent. Ron you decided to get him a bludger bat with the Chudley Canon players signatures, who was actually thankful for what you had gave him. Fred received a pack of muggle gags and a book he said he wanted as well, and I had got Bill his stuff and sent it to him via owl. For George I got him a necklace with two changing pendants on it, as well as your first initials together. At first he wasn’t sure what it was but realized it had some sort of magic element but wasn’t sure what it was that it did. You explained to him that the bigger pendant changes to represent his current mood, emotion, and situation, the smaller one would change be memories that he was most fond with at any given time. You explained that if there’s any time/memory he would like to look back on he’d just need to say the magic word while touching it.

“Although seeing the past is great, I’m much more looking forward to making many more memories with you, love” George said giving you a quick kiss as you two sat down next to each other at the table. Alas the feast begins!

A week has passed and you decided to stay at the twins place above their shop sometimes, with George’s many persuasions. You had woke up semi early, the only reason you were up now was because you couldn’t go back to sleep after George had to get up for work. But his morning like every morning you were there started a bit later, always cuddling in the morning because you wake up when he does. You accidentally fell asleep for a few minutes before getting up and dressed for the day. You had started to go downstairs but hear George, Ron, and what you assume is Ginny’s voice.

“George! Can’t you see she’s just with you because you’ve got money!? She doesn’t love you, she loves your money!” Ginny says.

“Ginny…” George says.

“Yes, George?! It’s true! Just because she buys everyone some ‘fancy’ gifts doesn’t mean she actually cares or loves us, or you for that fact!”

“Yeah, she’s kinda right about that George. I mean, you two only started dating when you left school and started your business, really” you hear Ron contribute.

“Think about it George, she’s a cheat, and if you ever for some reason came up broke or she had a better chance of getting more money she’d take it over you!”

*Georges POV*

Maybe they’re right, maybe she is just af- no she can’t be, can she? I met her and dated her long before when the business started up, so if she’s about the money then why did she like me then? In fact she helped me get over the fact that Fred and I lost our life’s savings betting on Ireland to leprechaun gold. But does she actually only like me for my money? Ginny and Ron wouldn’t lie to me, they’re family, they’re just trying to keep me safe? Right?

We all look up to the stairs that creaked, seeing y/n coming down them with an upset look to her eyes. She lets out a “Goodmorning” followed by a “George, can I talk to you for a second?” once she reached where we were at.

“Of course, love, come with me” I say and lead y/n with me to a storage room that was fairly empty.

“George…you don’t believe them…do you?” y/n said looking up to me with a bit of hurt and hope in her voice.

“Of course not, love!” I say hugging her.

*your POV* same time as ^

But there’s just something deep down in him that makes him feel otherwise. He’s been thinking that one day you might leave him, yes, but only because he feels like he’s not good enough. That and add on what everyone is saying negatively, about you only wanting him for his money and looks hurts him because he loves you dearly. And you didn’t know any of that except the fact that he loves you, you were sure of that.

“I love you, George, for you not for that stupid reason they were saying. I’d love you if you were on the streets or on a private island all the same, it’s only you that I love, not the money” you say before kissing him passionately.

“I know, y/n, and I feel the same way towards you” he says while you two still embrace each other.

Summer went by quickly, and it was fun and full of laughter having spent most of your time with George. You didn’t know that when you weren’t around Ginny would go out of her way to tell George how much you didn’t love him, along with some snarky and rude remarks that the other Weasleys would have to say “Ginny!” and a punishment if it was Molly, sometimes Arthur. But that didn’t stop George from feeling like you’d leave him. Ginny and Ron was able to make him feel worse and worse throughout the school year, and the summer after that too. That was when it was at the worst, because you both loved each other dearly, but there was tampered with emotions. It was already the end of the school year and Voldemort had returned, leading up to another.battle, which was happened to be over, matter of fact. You were terrified and worried when you found out George’s head was bleeding with no ear. You stayed by him the whole time, only getting up to go to the bathroom and get food for the two of you.

“I’m surprised you’re still here” Ron says walking in the room, seeing you sit on the floor in front of the couch George’s on.

“Well why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know, don’t you only love him for his money and looks? Ginny said you wouldn’t want to be with him now that he lost his ear” He asked puzzled.

“Ronald, you can’t be serious. I love George with all my heart, even with one less ear, it doesn’t matter. I love Georgie boy for who he is, I always have and always will. I’ve never really understood why people say I only ‘love’ him for his money, it’s absurd really, it’s doesn’t have much worth. Not compared to love that is” you tell Ron looking at the sleeping figure on the couch.

“Really? You actually love him?”

“There are no words to express how much I truly do love him, Ron.” you say looking over to Ron, who seems to believe you.

“Well I’ll leave you two be”

“Thank you, Ron”

As soon as the door shut, George rolled over, fully awake, and you turned to look at him.

“Morning sleepyhead”

“Morning” he responded and gave you a kiss, “Y/n, did you mean that? What you just said to Ron just now?”

“Why of course!” You say turning to face him more, “I love you with all my heart. I’ve never wanted, needed, or loved a partner in crime like I do you. You’re the only one I’ve had, yes, but I wouldn’t have it any other way either, because I want you to be my first, only, and last partner in crime”. It looked as if though the war itself had lifted from George’s shoulders with a look like that spreading through his eyes and face. George didn’t say anything, but he did wrap an arm around you and pulled you into a long, passionate kiss. George no longer had any doubts like he used to. He decided that he’s not going to let others get in the way of him and his partner in crime.

“I love you so much too, y/n, I can’t even begin tell you how much” he said after pulling away for breath from the kiss, both of you smiling.

This is so long my apologies! Anyways the next one should be up tonight, it’ll be a Snape x Reader and it’s gonna be hilarious! Check the request on my blog to see why!

#george weasley #fred and goerge weasley #george weasley x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #ginny weasley #Ron Weasley #percy weasley #charlie weasley

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