ultravjiolencee

[ultravjiolencee]

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑 | 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘 !

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 ! “can i request a fred weasley x slytherin!reader? with her being draco’s older sister?” thank you to the lovely anon who requested this <3

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ! your brother and boyfriend’s twin end up in a brawl, but fred considers himself the real winner.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! light!angst ( reader and draco argue ), fluff, slytherin malfoy fem!reader, established relationship, second person pov, 1.4k words!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You quietly sigh to yourself as you look at the two most important men in your life standing before you.

Both your brother and boyfriend look like they’ve been through the mud—or rather, the wet grass of the Quidditch pitch; but the former is clearly faring worse than the latter.

You’d watched the whole brawl go down—the whole school had, staff included.

The only reason Fred isn’t bleeding like Draco or sporting a busted lip like his twin is because his teammates had held him back.

Three of them.

He’s not hurt, but he’s furious—and while he’s been good on leaving Draco alone since you’ve begun dating, the look in Fred’s eyes right now tell you that he’s still reared up to go.

And you can’t say you blame him. Your brother had been out of line and you know it.

Which is why you cross your arms and focus on the blonde, staring into an identical pair of your own grey eyes as you frown.

“I don’t even know where to begin with you.” You say quietly. “Not only do you insult my boyfriend’s mother and his family home—but then you go and get into a brawl with his brother!? And then get them both banned from playing Quidditch!?”

Draco is immediately on the defense. You know your little brother. You see it in the way he stands up straighter, face growing contrite and indignant—he’s going to argue back.

And sure enough, “He hit me first! What was I-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” You cut him off sharply, and he instantly quiets. Years of being a big sister and essentially second mother for him during the school year has taught him when to back down.

“You deserved it, and we both know it. You insulted the Weasleys first. George might’ve thrown the first blow, but you threw the first stone.”

You shake your head slowly as you look down at him. “After everything our family has been through, Draco—I really thought you would know better than to attack another person’s.”

He swallows softly as he hangs his head, his fists clenching at his side—a habit he does whenever he’s angry at himself. And your father.

You can see that your words have hit home for him. Good. You know your little brother is an arse, which is putting it lightly—but you also know that there’s still good in him.

“I’m sorry.” He says quietly, and you shake your head.

“I’m not the ones you need to apologize to.” You say pointedly as you raise a brow.

Draco’s face morphs into an angry scowl and for a moment, you almost think he’s going to take it all back—but then he lets out a soft sigh and looks at Fred.

“I’m sorry, Weasley. It was wrong of me to attack your mother’s character and home like that. Or get you banned from Quidditch.” He says quietly. He looks like he’s just swallowed a sour lemon as he says it—but his tone is genuine and you know he means it.

You look at your boyfriend then, to gauge his reaction.

It’s his decision whether he forgives your brother or not, and you’ll support him in whatever choice he makes. Draco messed up, and you won’t allow your brother to get away with his wrongdoings like everyone else does.

What kind of a big sister would that make you?

Fred’s still angry, you can tell. His jaw is clenched and he’s taking deep breaths. He seems to grow taller as he stares down at the younger boy, and his fingers twitch at his side—like he’s fighting his body to keep still.

“I’m going to say this once, so listen up, Malfoy.” He starts, his stare growing more intense as he continues to look down at your brother.

“I don’t like you. I probably never will if you keep up the way you are—but I do respect you. You’re my witch’s brother, and whether you like it or not, I’m marrying your sister one day.” He steps closer, the height difference becoming more apparent as he does so.

Draco’s tall, but Fred is just simply taller.

“I’m here to stay, mate. We’re going to be in each other’s lives forever. So stay in your lane, and I’ll stay in mine.” He nods slowly.

“But speak on my family like that again, disrespect the Weasley name—your sister’s future name; and I’ll show you why you should consider yourself lucky it was the other twin that got his hands on you today.” He finishes quietly.

Fred’s words even make the hair on the back of your neck rise. You know he means it, and from the way Draco swallows and casts his eyes to the side—he knows it too.

The blonde nods slowly. “Understood.”

Fred seems to ease up a little then, as he takes a step back and then another. He doesn’t stop until he’s beside you, arm securely wrapped around your waist.

Draco turns to look at you again and you instantly see the question in his eyes.

Are we okay?

You sigh softly and nod as you move to wrap your own arm around Fred.

“Apologize to the rest of the Weasleys by tomorrow.” You narrow your eyes, “I will know if you don’t.”

Draco lets out a quiet sigh and nods. “I will, Y/N. I promise.”

You step away from Fred to pull the younger boy into a hug—one he returns reluctantly, but within seconds he’s squeezing you tight and resting his chin on your shoulder.

He needs this hug. Deep down, your brother is sensitive—his craving for love and belonging steep. He always needs reassurance whenever you two have a row, always afraid that that’ll be the day you walk away from him forever. Thank you, dad.

“We’re okay, I promise. I love you, even though you’re a little shite sometimes.” You whisper softly, and smile when you feel him squeeze you tighter.

When you pull away, he returns your smile with his own—albeit smaller. “I love you too, Y/N.”

He nods to Fred and then begins to head to the dungeons.

You smirk softly as you make your way back into Fred’s arms, watching your brother go. “Staying with Fred tonight, cover for me with Snape! Thanks, love you!”

You hear a faint groan of complaint as he rounds the corner and you smile triumphantly.

Fred rubs your arm up and down gently as he chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours.

You tilt your head up to him and smile apologetically. “I’m sorry for what he did today.”

He shakes his head instantly as he rubs your back soothingly. “Don’t apologize for him, love. You did nothing wrong.”

“I know, I know, but still. He said awful things about your mum and got you banned from Quidditch!” You sigh softly as you loop your arms around his neck and begin to fiddle with his hair. “He’s my little brother. My responsibility.”

Fred grabs your hands and brings them to his lips, kissing them gently. “Your brother, yes. Your responsibility, no. But your efforts are appreciated, love.”

He smirks softly as he pulls your hands back around his neck. “You had the git apologizing quicker than it’d even taken for the brawl to get going.”

You shake your head in amusement as you roll your eyes playfully. Normally, you would gently chastise him whenever he makes a snide remark about your brother—but you figure you can let it slide for today, all things considered.

“I hope you didn’t accept his apology for my sake, though. You have every right to be upset and not forgive him if that’s how you feel, Freddie.” You say softly.

He shakes his head gently. “I know, love. I chose to forgive him for exactly why I told him.”

You melt as you recall his words about marrying you and someday giving you the Weasley name. “I can’t believe you said all of that.”

“And I meant every word of it.” He murmurs softly before gently pulling you into a deep but tender, lingering kiss.

When he pulls back, he smiles, thumb caressing your cheek as he cups your face. “Besides, the way I see it—the bloke hates me and I’m dating his sister. He can still play Quidditch, sure, but who’s the real winner here? And I didn’t even have to touch a single hair on his pointy head.”

You burst out laughing before leaning into his chest. “The real winner of the brawl, huh?” You play along.

He just smirks softly. “Damn right, love.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ! angryfredangryfredangryfred 😵‍💫😵‍💫. i hope you lovelies enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

©clesired - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

xoxo,

mila! *: ･🐚༄🫧*ੈ✩

[ultravjiolencee]

as a wavy hair girl, i love this😭 curls are so underrated😭😭😭

Don’t you worry about your curly hair <3

Fred G. Weasley x reader

My first post ever here on Tumblr! Sorry in advance for any spelling/grammar mistakes, english is only my second language :’)

Paring: Bsf!Fred Weasley x natural curly/wavy haired!Reader

Notes: Just Fluff. Reader is in gryffindor but you can choose the year! Also, reader and Fred are best friends who have huge crushes on each other lol. Oh and reader is insecure about her hair but Fred makes her feel better.

Summary: Hermione helped you style your natural hair. It was the first time you showed off your natural hair in Hogwarts, especially to Fred.

Word count: 1.5k

Enjoy!

“My hair is so poofy again!” you complained, as you were walking to class with your friend Hermione.

It was the month of November so it was only natural that your hair was becoming this poofy; humidity levels were extremely high in winter at Hogwarts.

“I just don’t know what to do, I can’t straighten them everyday, I don’t want to burn it!” you say, pushing your thick, coarse hair behind your ears. The only good thing was that they kept you very warm during the colder weather (but it was hell during the summer).

“Maybe you should try to stop straightening them” Hermione replied. “I know curly hair is a lot of work but it’s so worth it. Plus you can’t always keep on tying them up like you do during summer”.

You knew her hair was curly just like yours, although she was too lazy to always keep them in place, sometimes leaving them air drying or diffusing without any kind of styling done. Yet it still suited her perfectly in one way or another.

“Maybe you’re right” you say, smiling at her “Why don’t you come with me to the dorm this afternoon? I could use some help from you to do my hair” you continued, as you girls had almost reached the classroom. “Sure thing!” she replied, smiling and excited about your proposal as you two entered the classroom for your charms lesson.

You and Hermione were now in your dorm’s bathroom as you were thoroughly and vigorously washing your hair. She was sitting on the toilet as you guys chatted and laughed together.

“Okay so now that I’m done with the clarifying shampoo I have to put this hair mask on my lenghts?” you asked her as you were kneeled down near the bathtub.

“Yes, just put a generous amount on it and leave it on for five minutes” she replied, looking at you as you put a generous amount of that divine-smelling hair mask she lent you on your hair. You then put them up with a claw clip standing up from that uncomfortable position that you had kept through the whole shampoo step.

“Ow, my back!” You said in pain.

Hermione laughed. “I bet the one that will absolutely adore the most your new look is definitely going to be Fred!” She said with a teasing tone as a faint blush crept on your cheeks.

“S-sure…I’m quite nervous to be honest; He’s never seen me with my natural hair, not even once. I only wear them back at home” you replied, worrying about what he’ll say. “Aw c’mon y/n, he’s definitely going to love it. He literally loves everything about you!” she says, trying to uplift your mood a bit.

You rinsed the mask off, as you girls went on with the styling. You brushed your hair then you made sure they were soaking wet as you put on your curl cream, gel and mousse, scrunching your hair with your hands and a towel.

“Looks amazing already” Hermione said in awe, watching your hair “I’ll help you diffuse them”.

Hermione was finally done diffusing your hair. “Now here, give me your hand” she says.

You do as she told and found yourself with some drops of hair oil on your hand.

“Massage it through your hands and slide them through your hair. You can also scrunch a bit”.

You do so.

Then you lifted your head up.

You couldn’t belive your eyes.

Your hair came out so good. Your locks were almost all frizz-free and they framed your face perfectly.

“No way, you look so good with your natural hair! They suit you way more if I have to say!” Hermione said excited as she was looking at you two through the mirror where you were staring at your reflection.

Yet you couldn’t help but think about what Fred’s reaction would be. Sure you looked great, but will he like your new look? What if he thought curly hair were hideous or messy?

Hermione noticed your worried expression. “He’ll love them, I’m sure” she says, a small smile forming on your lips.

“Thanks Hermione”.

“Now come one, put your robe back on, it’s almost dinner time!” she said, helping you out. You watched yourself through the mirror one last time before exiting the dorm, heading towards the great hall were dinner was waiting you two.

You guys entered the great hall taking place near Ron and Harry who had already started eating. You two greeted them but you soon noticed Harry and Ron staring at you. You give them a puzzled look which earned a quick answer from them.

“We’ve just never seen you with your hair like that” Ron started “yeah, they look great” Harry continued. You thanked them as the conversation topic switched to that dreaded potion’s essay you guys had to hand in in three days.

But you just couldn’t focus on the conversation, eyes searching for that tall, ginger prankster who had stolen your heart and that for some reason hasn’t arrived yet.

“You okay y/n?” Harry asked.

“Y-yeah sure” you replied, trying to keep your focus on the conversation.

“Yeah she’s just thinking about her red haired prince charming” Hermione chimed in with a small smirk on her lips. You felt your blood rush to your cheeks as you stayed silent, rolling your eyes.

The ginger twins entered the great hall, sitting down next to you so quickly that you hadn’t even realised they arrived.

Hi guys-“ George said, lips slightly parted and eyes widened as you turned around. “WOAH Y/N, YOUR HAIR” he said, catching Fred’s attention who looked at you with wide eyes and a small blush on his cheeks “I-is there something wrong with it?” You muttered worryingly. “No no no, it’s actually amazing, we just never saw you like this, right Fred?” He said, eyeing his twin with a smirk as the guy was still staring, lost in his thoughts. “Uhh yeah yeah, he’s right” he said quickly, shaking his head “you look beautiful like this, you know?” he said with a smirk as you felt your cheeks redden. Everybody looked at you two, eyes rolling jokingly as they were all thinking about when you’ll both confess your feelings to each other.

The conversation topic switched again from your hair to this mad prank the twins were pulling on Snape before coming to dinner.

You were now focused, lively as always, although you felt Fred’s eyes glued on you the whole time as you ate dinner and talked with your friends.

Dinner ended and, as you guys were all walking to the gryffindor common room, you felt an arm wrapping around your neck. You looked up, seeing Fred’s face smirking at you again as you looked away.

“So, new look uh?” He said. You guys were now walking behind the others.

“Yeah. It is too humid to use a straightener, my hair becomes poofy five minutes after straightening them” you started “so today Hermione helped me with styling them following their natural pattern” you say as you looked up again just to see that Fred’s eyes had widened “so these are your natural hair?” he asked.

You felt worry wash over you.

“Y-yeah…these are my natural hair.” you say, looking forward.

“Woah” he muttered “but why have I never seen them? I mean, you look bloody gorgeous with your hair like this, why won’t you wear them natural more often?” He asked, his cheeks slightly red as he looked at you with his signature smirk, although his eyes were softer now.

“It’s easier to wear it straightened sometimes” you replied, looking at him “plus, I think curly hair makes me look so messy. They just don’t suit me like they suit Hermione.” You said as your expression saddened. You felt Fred’s arm squeezing you making the butterflies in your stomach swarm like crazy. Since your crush started you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks getting warmer or butterflies in your stomach at every little touch. Even if it was accidental.

“I don’t think they make you look messy. They suit you so much” he said, twirling a curl around one of his fingers, focusing on his own motions “you know, I’ve always loved curly hair” he said, his gaze back on your face “I’ve always found them beautiful, especially on gorgeous girls like you~” he said, winking, his smirk back on his face. “Oh shut up!” You said in between giggles as you felt your cheeks redden as he squeezed you more.

“Never, sunshine~” he says with a playful tone, giving a small peck to your already warm cheek.

You thought he had definitely noticed that your whole face was now on fire, as he started laughing hard while his arm was still around your neck, his hand touching your soft, beautiful curls.

You now knew you had noting to worry about them.

[ultravjiolencee]

My latest obsession… the Weasley twins

Fred is my bae lowkey

[ultravjiolencee]

send your weasley twins thoughts and requests!!

[ultravjiolencee]

Can i request a fred weasley with maybe a reader from black family that doesn’t really like christmas? thank u so much!! (they’re not relatives and kinda in a relationship)

Weasley Warmth Delivery

a.n! thanks for requesting and sorry if this took me this long, but to be honest i still feel into christmas mood. i tried this new ‘format’ of exchanging letters! mention of my previous work

Dear y/n,

Well, look at that—a letter from Black. To what do I owe this honor? Boredom finally driving you mad in that haunted house of yours? Don’t worry, love, I’ve been expecting it.

Grimmauld Place isn’t exactly the Ministry of Fun, is it? And without me around to liven up the place, well, I’m amazed you lasted this long before reaching out.

First, let me set the scene for you here at the Burrow: total chaos, as usual. Mum’s been running around like a bludger on a sugar high, barking orders about decorating and cleaning things that were perfectly fine before she started. Ginny keeps nicking the fairy lights off the tree to “improve” her room (I think she’s trying to charm them to spell out something rude for Ron), and Percy’s been giving us all his patented look of disapproval. Honestly, I think he was born with that expression.

George and I, naturally, have been hard at work testing a few of our newest products. Let’s just say the garden gnomes had a very eventful morning and leave it at that.

But, enough about the Burrow, it’s too normal compared to what I’m imagining for you. I bet Grimmauld Place is a real barrel of laughs this time of year. Bet you’ve got Kreacher croaking out festive insults like, “Filthy blood traitor scum don’t deserve gingerbread.” Or maybe you’ve charmed those gloomy curtains shut tight so you don’t have to look at your delightful family tree. Is my name still scorched off that thing, by the way? If not, I’ll send George over to fix that. It’s our legacy, after all.

I wish I could say I don’t worry about you being there all by yourself, but you know me—I don’t do lying very well. (Or at all, according to mum. But then again, she doesn’t always appreciate my particular brand of honesty.) You’ve got that whole independent, “I don’t need anyone’s help” thing going on, and I get it. I do. But I can’t help wishing you’d pop over to the Burrow for Christmas. Mum would adore you, I promise. Well, she’d probably scold you for being “too thin” first, but that’s just part of the package deal. Once she’s fed you a month’s worth of food in two days, she’ll be absolutely besotted.

And before you go claiming I’m trying to recruit you to our family, let me clarify: yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing. Because family doesn’t have to be the lot you were born with.

You’ve got us now, whether you like it or not.

Now, enough of this sappy nonsense. You’ll start thinking I’m losing my edge. Let’s talk about important things—like me. Did I mention George and I managed to sneak a prototype of our newest invention past Mum? It’s called the “Crackling Cauldron Cake,” and it’s exactly as dangerous as it sounds. You bite into it, and it pops like a small Firework Charm in your mouth. George claims it’s “too risky for mass production,” but I say he’s lost his Gryffindor nerve. (He was almost a Hufflepuff, you know. Don’t tell him I told you that.)

Oh, and speaking of risky ventures—have you heard from the “adorable” bunch at Hogwarts? Lee says everyone’s still whispering about us switching ties that morning. Apparently, there’s now a theory that we were secretly meeting in the Forbidden Forest for mysterious reasons. Honestly, they’re creative. I’ll give them that. Maybe we should encourage the rumors. Keep them on their toes, you know?

Alright, I should wrap this up before the owl starts biting me again. (Did you train this thing to attack, or is that just a natural Black family trait?) But seriously, don’t be a stranger. Owl me again, even if it’s just to complain about how miserable it is without me around. I’ll write back—promise. And if you’re feeling really brave, you’re always welcome here. I’ll even let you beat me at Wizard’s Chess again, just to keep things festive.

Take care of yourself, alright? And if Grimmauld Place starts feeling too cold, just think of this letter as a little Weasley warmth delivered right to your doorstep.

Yours (because I’ve decided you’re mine to pester now),

Fred

P.S. If you don’t write back soon, I’m sending George over to prank your front door. You’ve been warned ;)

[ultravjiolencee]

Accidently wearing each other’s ties

pairing! fred weasley x different house reader

context! In the bustling morning chaos of the Gryffindor common room, you and Fred accidentally grab the wrong ties while rushing to get ready for the day. Your mistake doesn’t go unnoticed, and soon rumors swirl among their classmates. mention of slytherin reader just so.

The Gryffindor common room was already buzzing with the usual morning energy. Students were shuffling out of the portrait hole, tying their scarves and grumbling about early lessons.

You were sitting on the armrest of the couch near the fire, adjusting your robes and tugging at your tie. You looked slightly disheveled but didn’t think much of it—after all, mornings at Hogwarts rarely allowed for much polish.

Fred Weasley appeared a moment later, running a hand through his unruly hair, clearly having woken up only minutes earlier. He grinned at her in that mischievous way of his, still a little groggy but undeniably Fred.

“Morning, love” he greeted, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of your head before sitting down next to you.

“Morning” you replied with a small smile, stifling a yawn. You reached up to straighten your tie again, feeling like it wasn’t quite sitting right but too distracted to notice why.

Fred yanked his own tie into place, not even glancing down as he fiddled with the knot. “Ready for Snape’s lesson? I hear he’s extra cheery today.”

You rolled your eyes . “If by ‘cheery’ you mean he’ll take house points from Gryffindor just for existing, then yes. I’m absolutely thrilled.”

Fred chuckled, his focus still half on you as you gathered your things and joined the growing crowd heading down to breakfast.

The Great Hall was alive with chatter as students settled into their respective tables. Fred sat at Gryffindor table, sharing a plate of toast with Lee and trading sarcastic comments about the cloudy weather.

It wasn’t until George slid onto the bench across from them, a piece of bacon halfway to his mouth, that things started to unravel.

“Morning” George greeted, giving the two of them a long, pointed look.

“Morning” Fred replied, completely oblivious as he poured himself some pumpkin juice.

George tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “Fred, mate…” He leaned forward, smirking. “Why are you wearing a Slytherin tie?”

Fred froze mid-sip, lowering his goblet slowly. “What are you on about?”

George pointed, and sure enough, the green-and-silver tie hung neatly against Fred’s chest.

Fred blinked, then looked over at you. “Wait—what the—” His words trailed off as he noticed your tie, which was unmistakably Gryffindor red and gold.

Your brow furrowed as you glanced down at yourself, then back at Fred. “Oh, no…”

“Did you two… swap ties?” George asked, his smirk growing impossibly wider. His voice carried just enough to catch the attention of a few nearby students, who immediately turned their heads.

“We must’ve grabbed the wrong ones this morning,” You muttered, your cheeks quickly turning pink.

“Sure, sure,” George said, his tone teasing as he leaned back, clearly enjoying the moment. “That’s definitely what happened. Right, Fred? No other explanation?”

Fred groaned, running a hand down his face. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, George, don’t start.”

But it was too late. Word spread quickly along the Gryffindor table, and soon enough, a chorus of hushed giggles and not-so-subtle whispers filled the air.

“Did you see their ties?”

“Switched them, huh? Wonder why…”

“Guess we know what they were up to last night.”

You buried your face in your hands, wishing you could disappear. “This is a disaster” you mumbled.

Fred, however, was less mortified and more amused. He leaned closer to you, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “At least they’re creative. I mean, you’ve got to admire their dedication to imagining our nonexistent scandalous night.”

You gave him a sharp look, though your lips twitched despite yourself. “Fred, this isn’t funny.”

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” he corrected, grinning at you. “But only because they’re completely wrong. If they only knew the truth…” He trailed off with a wink, his tone clearly teasing.

Before you could retort, Ginny appeared behind you, arms crossed and her eyebrows raised. “What on earth did you two do?”

“Nothing!”You said quickly, though your flushed cheeks didn’t help your case.

Fred, ever the troublemaker, wrapped an arm around your shoulders and smirked up at his sister. “Nothing we’d admit to in public, anyway.”

Ginny rolled her eyes but didn’t push further, though her expression suggested she was filing this moment away for future teasing.

As the day went on, the whispers didn’t exactly die down. Even in Potions, you caught a few knowing smirks from both Gryffindor and Slytherin classmates.

“Ignore them,” Fred said during a brief lull in class. He slipped you a note across the desk, grinning when you opened it.

It read: If we’re already being blamed for it, maybe we should make their rumors true?

You shot him a glare, though it lacked any real heat, and scribbled back: You’re impossible.

Fred read your response and winked at you. “But you like me for it.”

And, despite your flustered state, you couldn’t help but smile.

[ultravjiolencee]

oh and can i order a souffle featuring george weasley with reader being grumpy? thank u so much!

soufflé: “why are you so grumpy all the time?”

view the menu here!

.

George was used to your frown. Your eyes would slightly crinkle, and you would sigh before inevitably pulling your lips downwards into the most adorable frown.

He was the first thing he noticed about you, and the first thing he brought up when you talked for the first time.

"Why are you so grumpy all the time?" he asked, genuinely curious. You simply gave him a look full of digust before walking away.

He could take the hint, but he didnt want to. You didnt really have friends, sticking to two people, Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom, two people that were your complete opposite, and it was easy for him to approach you at any given chance.

The first couple of days you wouldn't give him a second look before walking away. The next week he started coming up with what he thought were amazing pickup lines. By the way you looked up at him, you didnt agree.

Slowly but surely, you started warming up to him, George could tell because instead of walking away in disgust, you would simply frown at him. Not progress in anyone's book but his.

"I'm not very good at math but I can give you the value you deserve." George grinned as he slid into the seat next to you during breakfast.

Fred was far behind you, and he shot his brother a thumbs up, you on the other hand sighed, hand reaching over to grab a loaf.

"That doesn't apply here," you spoke, Georges's mouth went agape, was this about to be your first-ever conversation? Yes, you two were making progress, but he estimated your first conversation to be at least two weeks from now. "You had an 'Exceeds Expectations' in math."

Contrary to popular belief, George was not all dumb. He especially had a talent in Mathematics.

"And you had an 'Acceptable?" George replied, not exactly knowing how to continue the conversation. He was not prepared for this.

You didn't reply, simply frowned, "I like your frown." George coughed eyeing Neville, who was definitely talking about you two to Luna.

"Isn't the normal saying 'I like your smile?" you questioned, tilting your head slightly.

"You don't smile."

"Yeah."

"It's okay, I don't think I would like your smile anyways," George said, immediately regretting it, eyes wide as you turned to him with a blank face.

"Okay George," you said, frowning at him before getting up from the table.

George watched you walk away with an adoring smile, he nudged the random kid sitting next to him, nodding over to you, "That's my future girlfriend over there."

.

[ultravjiolencee]

nobody asked but imma give it to you anyways

Fred has a crush on the shy Gryffindor in his year, they have never even given him the time of day. Until they did.

Imagining Fred Weasley being so in love with you during your time at Hogwarts. Having been in the same year and house, you often crossed paths, but unluckily you seemed more occupied with your friend outside of your house and books. It seemed while his antics usually garnered the attention of most of Hogwarts, they never seemed to capture your attention.

While he was the life of the party, you seemed to be outside of it. He had tried to impress you during his quidditch games, but you never showed up to any. Tried to show off his new products in the common room, but you were in your dorm reading. Even tried to talk loudly when he saw you were around, but you and your friends were too busy laughing on your way to class to even notice him. While most of the school didn’t even notice you, you barely even noticed him. It drove him crazy that he could get anyone’s attention, except yours.

Fred had all but given up on you, thinking it was more likely that Snape would wear a pink tutu than you giving him the time of day. He kept his crush mostly secret, only letting it pass to George once after they had too much fire whiskey and their late night talk got serious.

Once they left Hogwarts, he assumed he’d never see you again. You never seemed the type to enjoy their products and he had overheard you had plans to attend muggle college, studying some degree he couldn’t understand. Then the war hit its peak, and he was sure you had left for good. And he’s glad, he left the war with both physical and mental scars. Even if you never noticed him, he sure is glad you wont see him like this.

And how fucking wrong he would be.

Fred had been asked to grab a book from a muggle library, a gift for Hermoine and Ron. The town he had gone to was relatively quiet and he knew he looked stupid staring intently at his map as he tried to find the little bookshop. He’s scouring the bookshop, when he hears someone clear their throat. And he looks over to see you, finally noticing him, he almost thinks that a bus might’ve hit him and now he’s in a coma.

“Looking for anything specific, Fred?”

And now he really thinks that a fucking bus hit him, because there’s no way you know his name. For the first time, Fred Weasley is speechless. Quickly, he tries to recover, stumbling through his sentence as he explains his mission. You laugh, and it makes him so fucking flustered, making him realize he’s still mad about you. Leading him down the aisles to the correct book, asking questions about his life.

As you walk together, Fred realizes how different you seem, not as closed off as you had been in school. Not only that you finally noticed him, but you have this newfound brightness to you, more confident. It’s a good look on you.

When you hand him the book, Fred takes a chance to finally ask you out, something he’s been wanting to do for over 10 years now. Nodding yes, you exchange contact information, planning to meet up soon.

[ultravjiolencee]

George Weasley

A cuddle date?

You were sitting cross-legged on one of the couches in the common room, a book open in your lap, but you weren’t really reading. Your mind kept drifting, and every time you turned a page, you realized you hadn’t absorbed a single word. You couldn’t help it—your thoughts kept wandering to the boy sitting across the room, who was, as usual, causing a quiet storm of chaos in the best way possible.

George Weasley. He was playing with his wand, sending sparks of color into the air, and making snarky comments about Fred’s latest prank in the background. But there was something different today—he kept glancing over at you, his signature grin softening whenever your eyes met. It was hard to ignore the way his gaze lingered.

Finally, after what felt like the hundredth glance, George stood up and sauntered over to you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his red sweater. He leaned down with a smirk.

“You look like you need some distraction, love,” he teased, his voice low and playful.

You raised an eyebrow, closing your book and setting it aside. “Do I? What sort of distraction are you offering?”

He gave a dramatic shrug, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I dunno, maybe a cuddle session? It’s the perfect way to spend a cold evening, don’t you think?”

Your heart fluttered at the suggestion, even though you tried to play it cool. “A cuddle session?” you asked, feigning disinterest. “That sounds a bit... ordinary for the infamous George Weasley.”

George grinned, sitting down beside you with exaggerated care, making sure his shoulder brushed against yours. “Well, not just any cuddle session,” he said, lowering his voice to a whisper. “A cuddle date.”

Your stomach fluttered again, and you could feel a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “A cuddle date, huh?” you said, leaning back into the couch and letting your head fall to the side, glancing up at him. “You’re pretty bold, Weasley.”

George chuckled, his tone light and easy. “What can I say? When I have a good idea, I have to act on it.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond, leaning in and tucking his arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently toward him. You let out a soft laugh as you melted against his side, your head resting on his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

The room felt a little warmer now, the crackling fire in the hearth casting a comforting glow over the two of you. You could hear the occasional pop and crackle of the fire, but it was mostly quiet, the soft rhythm of George’s breathing filling the silence.

“So, how does this work?” you asked, glancing up at him with a teasing smile. “Is there an official cuddle date protocol? Do we talk about our feelings or just... snuggle?”

George shrugged, looking down at you with a playful glint in his eyes. “You can talk if you want. But I’m more of a fan of the quiet, cozy kind of cuddles. You know, just enjoying the warmth and... well, the company.”

You smiled and settled into him a little more, your fingers gently tracing the pattern on the sleeve of his sweater. It was nice, really—just being here with him, in this quiet moment, with no distractions or expectations. The world outside seemed far away.

After a few moments, George let out a content sigh, his hand rubbing circles on your back. “You know, I’ve got to admit,” he murmured, his voice softer now, “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”

You raised an eyebrow, looking up at him. “Really? I thought you were busy with the joke shop stuff.”

He shrugged again, this time with a bit more earnestness. “Yeah, well, that’s important too. But... there’s something about just being here with you that’s better than anything else right now.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you could feel a warmth blooming in your chest. “That’s really sweet, George.”

“I mean it,” he said, tilting his head so his nose brushed against your hair, his lips pressing lightly to the top of your head. “There’s no one else I’d rather spend a quiet evening with.”

You let out a soft sigh, feeling the weight of his words settle into your heart. There was something about this moment, about being with him in the stillness of the dormitory, that made everything else fade away. It wasn’t about grand gestures or words—it was the simple act of being close, the feeling of comfort and contentment that you shared.

For a while, you both just sat there, not saying anything, letting the quiet envelop you like a blanket. The only sounds were the crackling fire and the soft, rhythmic beat of George’s heart.

Eventually, you shifted slightly, looking up at him with a small smile. “You know, I think you might be right about this cuddle date thing,” you said. “It’s pretty great.”

George smirked, a playful glint in his eyes. “I told you. I’m full of brilliant ideas.”

You laughed softly, resting your head back on his chest. "Well, consider me convinced, Weasley. Best cuddle date ever."

George wrapped both arms around you now, pulling you closer. “We’ve still got loads of time,” he murmured. “Plenty of cuddles left to go.”

And as the night wore on, with the fire slowly dying down and the stars twinkling outside the window, you felt perfectly content to stay right where you were, wrapped up in the warmth of George’s embrace. The world could wait. For now, this was all you needed.

[ultravjiolencee]

A little more than best friends.

George Weasley

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. You and George Weasley had been best friends for years. You had laughed together, cried together, and even gotten into trouble together. The Burrow had become your second home, and George had always been your rock — your constant.

But somewhere along the way, you had fallen for him.

You hadn’t planned it. In fact, you had tried to ignore it at first. You convinced yourself that it was just an infatuation, a fleeting feeling that would pass. After all, George was your best friend. The thought of ruining your friendship by admitting something so complicated and messy was terrifying. So you buried it deep down, in a place where you thought it could never hurt you.

But it did. Every time he smiled that cheeky grin of his, every time he looked at you with that playful glint in his eyes, your heart would skip a beat. And you would smile back, hiding the ache behind your usual banter.

It was one of those evenings when the Burrow was full of life. Mrs. Weasley had been cooking up a storm in the kitchen, Fred was, of course, getting into trouble with one of his latest inventions, and Bill and Charlie were talking excitedly about their recent adventures. You were sitting at the kitchen table, trying to help Molly with the dishes, but your eyes kept drifting back to George.

He was standing by the fireplace, laughing with Fred, his red hair glowing in the flickering light. His voice was loud and carefree, and you couldn’t help but watch as he gestured dramatically, telling some ridiculous story. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and for a moment, you forgot to breathe.

It wasn’t just his looks that made you fall for him. It was everything — the way he cared about people, the way he made you feel like you were the most important person in the room when you talked. He had a way of making the world feel lighter, as if everything would be okay as long as you had him by your side.

And that was the problem. You wanted more than just his friendship. You wanted his heart, too.

"Oi, [Y/N]!" George’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you turned to see him standing in the doorway, his hands covered in flour. A wide grin spread across his face. "You’re looking far too serious. Come on, help us test the new joke product!"

You rolled your eyes. “Last time I helped you two test something, I nearly got my hair turned into a duck's feather.”

He laughed, clearly amused by the memory. "Ah, but it was hilarious! Besides, I promise this one is perfectly safe.”

“You say that every time.”

"And every time, I’m right. This time, I’m even more confident. I’ve got Fred here to supervise.”

“Great,” you muttered, following him into the backyard, where Fred was already busy setting up a few of their new prank products.

As you walked with George, you could feel the familiar butterflies stir in your stomach, but you pushed them down. You had to focus.

Fred handed you a small, cylindrical object. “Hold onto this, will you? It’s the new Bubble-Burst Bomb. Should be harmless—just a bit of fun."

“Harmless, right,” you said dryly, eyeing Fred’s wicked grin.

George leaned in, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body. “You know, you can always count on me to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

His breath was warm against your ear, and you couldn’t help but shiver. You quickly straightened, clearing your throat. “Yeah, sure. It’s not like I’ve ever gotten caught in one of your messes before, right?”

George chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Hey, if you weren’t there, who would keep us from going too far?”

“Someone with better judgment,” you teased, handing the bubble bomb back to Fred.

But as the evening wore on, you couldn’t help but notice the little things — how George would always sit next to you when the group gathered around the table, how his laughter seemed to linger in your chest long after the joke had ended, how his hand would brush against yours just a little too often for it to be an accident.

Days turned into weeks, and your feelings for George only grew stronger. It was becoming unbearable. Every time he smiled at you, your heart twisted with longing, but you kept quiet, afraid of what would happen if you said anything. What if it ruined everything? What if he didn’t feel the same way?

But you couldn’t hide it forever. It became harder and harder to keep your feelings locked away. You found yourself seeking out moments alone with George, your conversations lingering longer than usual, your laughs more genuine. He seemed to notice too, though he never said anything about it.

And then one evening, everything changed.

It was late, and most of the house had already gone to bed. The soft hum of the fire in the sitting room was the only sound as you sat on the couch, flipping through a book. The light was dim, and the air was calm. You thought you were alone until the door creaked open, and George stepped inside.

He smiled when he saw you. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Could say the same about you,” you replied, marking your place in the book and closing it with a small sigh.

George lowered himself onto the couch beside you, stretching his long legs out in front of him. For a moment, neither of you said anything, simply enjoying the quiet companionship you had shared for so many years. But tonight, something felt different. There was a tension in the air, thick and palpable, and you knew that George had sensed it too.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something, [Y/N],” George said suddenly, his voice unusually serious. “Well, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What’s on your mind?”

George hesitated, his eyes flicking to the fire, as though the flames would provide him with the right words. "You know how we’ve been best mates for years, right? Always looking out for each other, having a laugh, getting into mischief…”

You nodded, feeling your pulse quicken.

“Yeah, well…” He paused again, the flickering light casting shadows on his face. “I think… I think it’s more than that for me now. More than just being friends.”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. “What do you mean?”

He turned to you then, his eyes softer than you had ever seen them. “I don’t want to mess up what we have. But I can’t ignore it anymore. I’ve been feeling it for a while. Maybe even since the start. I don’t just care about you as a friend, [Y/N]. I care about you… in a different way. I—”

He was cut off by the look on your face. The warmth in your chest surged, and before you knew it, you were leaning in, capturing his lips with yours.

The kiss was hesitant at first, both of you testing the waters, unsure of what would come next. But then it deepened, a flood of unspoken words and emotions rushing between you. George pulled you closer, his hand resting gently on the small of your back, as if he didn’t ever want to let go.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

“I should have told you earlier,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “But I was scared, you know? Scared it would ruin everything.”

You smiled softly, your fingers brushing the side of his face. “I was scared too, George. But I think we were both waiting for the right moment.”

“Guess it just took us a bit longer than expected,” he grinned, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face.

You laughed softly. “Better late than never, right?”

“Exactly.”

And as the warmth of the fire filled the room and George’s arms wrapped around you, you realized that sometimes, love doesn’t happen when you expect it. Sometimes, it takes time. But when it does, it’s worth every moment of waiting.

[ultravjiolencee]

Here’s some of my George thoughts for you - I think George would be a clingy partner, not in a bad way but if you’re together he always is hugging you or has an arm around you. He doesn’t like being alone, he usually likes having either you or Fred with him. Both him and Fred mask sadness with anger but George’s anger is always quicker to give way to sadness while Fred acts upon his anger.

YESSSSSSSSSSSSS I LOVE THIS

George is pretty clingy. If you go with canon, then after his brother dies you become the person he spends most of his time with. It brings him comfort to have you by his side. Sometimes it can be too much, can quickly turn suffocating, but if you communicate it he can manage. If we go by the ACTUAL end of the book, he’s always with either you and Fred. Like if someone sees him without either of you, they think something terrible has happened. Always keeps some kind of hold on you, whether by holding hands, leaning against you, or so on.

YES, I think I wrote something similar earlier. Both jump to anger quickly (see that one scene that never made it to the movie with Draco), but it’s different. George gets angry fast, but will quickly turn to anger. Fred is more likely to act upon his anger, doesn’t really think about it when it happens and that leads to unpredictable outcomes.

❄️CHRISTMAS HP HEADCANON PARTY❄️

[ultravjiolencee]

can i order zabaglione featuring fred weasley? thank u so much

zabaglione: "did you know you talk in your sleep?"

view the menu here!

.

Fred didnt mean to fall asleep, you knew that. He was just very very tired.

Planning pranks were harder than people thought, more time-consuming than people thought.

But now Fred and George weren't just planning pranks, they were planning to open a whole pranking shop. That differently took its sweet time.

Fred always made sure to make time for you, even when your relationship was new, he made it a goal to spend at least one hour a day together. No matter what was going on, he would make sure to give you your well-deserved hour.

Then he told you about his after-school plans with George, to open a joke store together. You thought it was amazing, but you knew that meant spending even less time together, and although it made you disappointed, you made the decision to downgrade your one hour together, to thirty minutes.

Initially, Fred didnt like that idea, claiming that he could manage, but you didnt want to stress him even more, so you put your foot down.

From that moment on it seemed like every moment you spent together went in a blink of an eye, you two barely had any time to talk about each other's day. You would never admit it, but it was horrible, you wanted nothing more but to spend time with your beloved boyfriend.

It was a standard morning when Fred waltzed up to you during breakfast and let you know that he had 'cleared his schedule' excitedly telling you that you were going to hang out all day, and he was going to take you to Hogsmeade.

You too had fun, he bought you everything you would glance at (mostly sweets) and after a while, you two went back to the common room, where you slipped upstairs to put away all your goods. You took no longer than maybe ten minutes. But when you trailed back downstairs, you found a sound-asleep Fred.

You frowned, walking over to the couch and looming over him, yes you knew it was bad that you were in some way mad at him for falling asleep, but you couldn't help it, you just wanted more time with him.

"Missed you..." Your head snapped down to him, for a second you had thought he was awake, but his closed eyes said otherwise.

'Thats creepy' you thought, sitting down by his head.

"No...no...come here..." you heard a soft whisper once more, your head snapped over, catching his mouth move, oh so he was joking.

"Not funny Fred," you smiled, shaking your head, waiting for him to jump up from the couch, which he never did. "Fred?" you whispered.

"Bad idea George.." he mumbled, turning to his side.

Your face brightened in realization, "Are you sleeptalking?" you asked as if he would answer.

It only took five more minutes for Fred to wake up, he sprung up from the couch, looking around the room widely, his frantic eyes landing on you, "Oh blimey did I fall asleep? I- I am so sorry love I didnt mean to-"

"Did you know you talk in your sleep?" you interrupt him, he pauses, moving over to sit next to you, his head making its way to your shoulder.

He hummed, "Used to," he murmured, "Creeped mum out bad. Why?"

"You were doing it," you smiled, leaning your head on his.

"Really?" he sounded surprised, "What was I saying?"

"Something about missing George."

Fred paused, his eyes squinting, "That doesn't sound right."

You laugh, head thrown back in laughter, Fred lifted his head and watched with a smile, "You know what does sound right?"

You hum, he smiled, pulling you into his arms, "Me missing you." he places a kiss on your head.

You peer up at him and blink, "Yeah that sounds right."

.

[ultravjiolencee]

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 - 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

pairing: fred weasley x reader

summary: you and fred share a cozy evening at the burrow on new year’s eve, surrounded by the weasley family’s warmth and chaos.

notes: established relationship, pre-war, insinuated fem!reader, no use of y/n, fred loves pet names, fluff

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The time was creeping closer and closer to midnight, and the evening air was filling the Burrow, the scent of smoked wood and Mrs Weasley’s famous treacle tart.

Fred was sat beside you on the patchwork sofa in the living room, his arm draped lazily over your shoulders. The pair of you were half-buried under a hand-knitted blanket, sharing a butterbeer.

“Go on, admit it,” Fred said, leaning closer as his freckled face glowed in the firelight. “You’re only dating me for my charm.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back into the sofa. “Oh, absolutely. It’s definitely not for your constant, irritating smugness or the way you ruin a perfectly good evening by stealing all the treacle tart before I can even get a bite.”

Fred gasped dramatically, his hand flying to his chest. “Darling, you wound me! You know my heart belongs only to you.”

George, his brother, who perched on the arm of the couch like a smug cat, chimed in. “That and his stomach. Mum’s cooking ranks a close second.”

Fred ignored him. “You’re not denying it, though,” he said, his grin widening as he looked back at you. “See? Can’t even argue because you love me.”

“Love might be a strong word,” you said, lifting the mug to your lips, hiding your smirk behind the rim.

“Oi!” Fred started, his finger gripping the blanket in attempt to pull it. George gave him a sharp jab in the side. “Off you go, Freddie. Don’t embarrass yourself further.”

You yank at the blanket, pulling it fully over you as Fred bickered with his twin. “Speaking of embarrassing yourself,” you said, raising an eyebrow at Fred. “Are you going to ask what my New Year’s resolution is, or are you too scared to know?”

He perked up at that, his golden-brown eyes gleaming with curiosity. “All right. Let’s hear it. Let me guess—it’s to learn to tolerate my unparalleled wit?”

You leaned closer, the corner of your mouth quirking into a grin. “It’s to beat you at Exploding Snap this year. Every. Single. Time.”

Fred blinked once. Then twice. Then he threw his head back in a loud, delighted laugh before leaning forward. “Blimey, darling. That’s ambitious, even for you.”

“You’ll see,” you replied smugly, leaning in.

“Five minutes to midnight!” Mrs Weasley’s voice boomed from the kitchen. “Everyone grab your drinks and get outside for the fireworks! And George, if you light a single one before we’re ready, so help me—”

The whole family shuffled outside, you included, the cold winter air hitting you like a sudden shock after the warmth of the house. Snow crunched underfoot, white, soft and glittering under the light of the stars. The garden was a chaos of footprints and hastily trampled paths, leading to a makeshift firework display that George was already fussing over.

A stack of colourful rockets stood ready, haphazardly tied together in what could only be described as a precarious masterpiece.

As your head tilted to stare up at the stars overhead, Fred slipped his hand into yours, his fingers warm and rough against your own. He guided you towards the edge, his arm curling around your waist, pulling you to his side as the first firework shot into the air with a loud crack—it exploded in a burst of crimson and gold, lighting up the sky.

Fred leaned down, his voice soft in your ear. “You know, it doesn’t matter what resolutions you make this year.” His tone was so different from his usual teasing—gentle and sincere. “As long as you’re with me, that’s all I’ll ever need.”

The weight of his words settled in the air around you, and for a moment, you forgot about the cold or the impending war that loomed on the horizon. You turned to him, standing on your toes to press your lips to his. He tasted like butterbeer and laughter, his lips warm against yours despite the chill in the air.

Around you, the fireworks continued to burst in brilliant waves of colour—and when you finally pulled away, Fred was grinning again, his lopsided smile even more dazzling in the firework-lit night. “Next year,” he said, his tone edging back into a familiar playfulness, “I resolve to make you laugh at least twice as much. Shouldn’t be too hard—I’m brilliant, you know.”

“You’re something, alright,” you replied, shaking your head at him fondly. The words were laced with affection, and Fred clearly heard it, because he squeezed your hand tighter.

“Happy New Year, love,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

“Happy New Year, Fred,” you replied, leaning into his warmth as another firework burst overhead, painting the night sky in silver and blue. For this one perfect moment, the world felt safe and whole, and the future could wait until tomorrow.

[ultravjiolencee]

we’ve never got the chance to see fred and george in a love context with someone (except maybe from angelina at the ball) what are your thoughts?

man this took me a hot minute, my brain just didn’t want to work

Fred

Can be very forgetful and careless. Sometimes forgets to think before speaking, so inevitably will say something rude to you and make you upset. And forget important dates. But he does feel horrible about it after, apologizes a million times and gets so clingy.

Brags and shows his s/o off A LOT. Always talking about “his girl/boy”. If he wins a friendly quidditch match, he’s saying it’s cuz he had his good luck charm. If you walk into the store, he’ll stop mid convo with a customer like “there’s my girl/boy.”

Loves to annoy you. Literally just makes up random things, especially if you didn’t go to Hogwarts or have magic. Will say it with a straight face too, then look down at you and smile when you figure it out.

Has a matching bracelet with you, perhaps like a piece of twine he wrapped around d your wrist then made himself one. Likes to have something that reminds him of you and vice versa.

Sometimes doesn’t think before he acts, so if there is a perceived slight, he will ignore you and sit in that feeling. Can be known to speak before thinking as well, is also very quick to anger, and takes a while to calm down. He’s kind of like a boiled pot, it will spill over if not taken care of.

George

Really good at remembering what you said, keeps a list of things you’ve mentioned wanting so he can get you a gift you’ll want. But he can get really absorbed in making new products for the store, so if he forgets he legit beats himself up over it. Will make it up to you.

A little more private about his love, he still brags but he’s not shouting it out all the time. He talks about his partner A LOT. When he writes to his mom he loves to talk about your achievements. He’s so proud of what you accomplish.

Loves to mess with you. His favorite is hiding a figurine or trinket through out the house and waiting until you find it.

Loves to point out two objects or animals and say “that’s us.” Like sure babe, we are those two worms.

Will ignore you, just locks himself in this office when he’s upset and work. Is capable of communicating this, but it depends on how upset he is. This doesn’t really last long though, maybe a few hours at most. He’s not someone who will say something they don’t mean in a heated moment, so if he says something very rude he probably means it, but he tries to communicate multiple times before coming to verbal blows.

❄️CHRISTMAS HP HEADCANON PARTY❄️

[ultravjiolencee]

A Weasley Holiday // G.W x reader

Request: May I ask for a George Weasley x reader where they have been dating for a while and he invites her to spend Christmas at the burrow and it's all fluffy?

Word Count: 2.1k

Author's Note: I’m sorry this actually took me like 7 days to write this and I don't know why. I was having such a hard time with story building it was stupid! Anyway, I hope it's okay, I honestly wanted to scrap it and start it over for like a third time. 

[masterlist]

Much Love, Saige 

————

Lively and warm, George and you were finishing up your dinner in the great hall, both entirely engulfed in each other's presence. Life was bright with him, and you couldn’t get enough of it. 

“No way Sirius would beat Lupin in a fist fight” You chuffed, leaning forward to take another bite of food. 

“Oh please. Lupin has all the height he needs!” George yelped, his voice only slightly more auditable over the bustling students in the hall. “Plus, he is scrappy. I think the scar says it all” He wagged his eyebrows, watching you lean back in laughter. 

George’s heart was full anytime he made you laugh. It became his personal achievement to see you smile every day. It gave him satisfaction in his own ego (of course) that he could make you laugh, but also he melted every time he watched how your entire body reacted, slapping the table and holding your stomach whenever one was particularly good. 

“Alright alright. Well maybe we'll have to pin them against each other just to see.” You came down from your fit, trying to catch your breath. Captivated in your beauty, George sat for a moment, just admiring you. Little did you know he’d been wracking his brain to find a good time to ask you to come home with him over the holiday break. He was terrified that you’d reject the idea, though part of him understood that you’d want to go be with your own family. 

Conflicted, he took a deep breath in, realizing now is as good a time as any to ask. Clearing his throat, he reached across the table, his hand covering yours. The change of energy was startling, your eyes suddenly fixated on him. 

“What’s wron-“ you started

“I’d love for you to spend Christmas with me. At the burrow.” He cut you off, speaking incredibly quickly, the words falling off of his lips. He felt that he needed to say it immediately or he’d lose all confidence in himself. 

The anxiety filled in your chest was replaced with a swell of relief. Your shoulder slumped, the question much less serious than you were anticipating. 

“I'd absolutely love to.” You flipped his hand over, now rubbing the top of his knuckles. A wide smile growing on his face. You swore you could feel the excitement through his fingertips, practically knocking both of your drinks over on the table from shaking your hand dramatically. 

He gripped your hand tightly, bringing it to his lips with a small kiss.

“You’re mine. All winter break” He mumbled. It was more to himself than anything, but the words could have made you packed your bags right then and there. 

—

Later that month, you were alone in your dormitory, the final morning at Hogwarts before the holiday break. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you looked around your room, silently acknowledging to yourself that when you come back to this room, you and George would have spent an entire month together, outside of school grounds with no interruptions.

Packing your trunk felt different this time around, even though you were packing the same items you came with, the idea that you’d soon be unpacking it in a whole new house made you nervous. You were beyond grateful that George and his family opened their home to you, especially during the holiday season, but you couldn’t help being anxious that they maybe in the slightest chance… might not like you. 

Folding your last set of school robes, you tucked in your undergarments, making it near to impossible for anyone to find amongst your items. Closing the trunk, you stopped and took one more look around the room, looking for anything you may have left behind. Accepting that you were procrastinating the inevitable, you set off for the common room, ready to meet up with George and head out together. 

Stepping down the staircase, you spotted him alone. His hands were tucked in his pockets looking up at you. His neck was swaddled in a colorful handmade scarf along with a matching hat; only his eyes and nose peer through. You giggled quietly as you came down the stairs. He stayed quiet, waiting for you to get closer. 

“Are you warm enough?” You smirked, snaking your arm around his, pulling him towards the door. His laugh was muffled through the scarf, his body limp, making it harder to move him from his spot. 

“Uh, huh - you take one step outside and see for yourself! I ought to get you a hat too for your little ears.” George playfully nudged, finally walking alongside you down the hallway. 

“Little ears?” Spo

“Yes, little ears that will freeze off.” He whispered, leaning down speaking in a low unnerving voice, his breath making the hairs on your neck stand up. 

“At last! I won’t have to hear you snore the whole break!” You declare loudly, looking up at George. With only his eyes visible, you could still see the shock and apawl spread across his face, only making you laugh harder. 

— 

The train ride was pleasant. You, George, and Fred all shared a compartment in the back of the train, both of them huddled together in deep conversation.

For most of the trip you looked out the window, enjoying the snowy landscapes along with George’s hand in yours. Him and his brother exchanged ideas the whole way home about their escapades and plans for their skiving snackbox and the implications of something larger — like a brick and mortar store. It was something that you admire deeply about them both; their ability to work towards their dream, even though the pessimistic feelings of their mother. 

Tuning them out, you rested your head on the window sill, falling asleep to the sound of their voices and the rhythmic bump of the train car. 

—

You woke up to a light kiss on the cheek, George's lips bringing you back to reality. The train car was empty except you two, Fred already out of the compartment and down the hall. 

“Come on, we can relax more later.” He urged, lifting you lightly from your seat. With his hand still in yours, you both left the train, quickly enveloped with the sounds of reuniting families and laughter as students connected with their loved ones.

”Ah My Boys!” A tall man exclaimed, easily recognizable as Mr.Weasley, his tall frame and red hair mimicking those of the twins. George squeezed your hand, bringing you over to his family. Along with Mr.Weasley was Mrs.Weasley, a large bustling woman, moving around quickly taking in each child with a long strong hug. Turning to face you and George, she smiled sweetly, bringing her hands to your face, cupping your cheeks. 

“Ah. The girl George can't stop talking about. Welcome dear, we are happy to have you.” She pulled you into a hug as well, her perfume powerful yet comforting. 

You glanced at George during the encounter, a pleasant sense of satisfaction across his face as his mother held you close. Your addition to the group felt natural and he couldn't help but imagine future trips home with him, bringing you back to the parents time and time again. 

Soon the whole group was ushered into a fireplace, each witch or wizard taking their turn traveling with floo powder to the burrow. The sensation was abrupt, only using the floo network a few times, you arrived in a clumsy fashion, your knees buckling as you arrived, falling into a pile of ash. Getting your bearings, you stood up, brushing the soot off your clothes as best you could before being captivated by the warmth and chaotic energy of your new environment. 

Stumbling just out the fireplace, you made way for the next weasley family member to arrive, looking around in your own time. Small moving pictures of each sibling were placed neatly above the fireplace, decorated beautifully with holly berries. The house smelt of pine and wood, large hand knit blankets laid haphazardly over each chair, inviting you to sneak under one and fall into a deep sleep. 

Breaking you from your trance, a large crack echoed against the walls informing you that you were not alone anymore. Turning back to the fireplace, your eyes connected with George, his hand already outstretched to meet you. 

“This place is wonderful.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his torso. He rocked you back and forth slightly,  absolutely absorbed with the reality that you were actually in his childhood home. 

“Here, allow me to give you a tour.” He released his grip from your body, pulling you towards the kitchen, bringing you around the house. Your eyes traveled around the rooms, small objects moving on their own, completing small household tasks. The dishes were washing themselves, a blanket was being knit in the corner of the living room, and a large broom was sweeping up the dirt that dispersed from the fireplace by your footsteps. You listened intently as he brought you to a large staircase, winding up for several floors. You were taken back by how tall the house was, unable to discern that front the inside. 

Taking you up the stairs, your heart raced. You were excited to see his room, how it was decorated, how it was shaped and sized. You always thought one's childhood bedroom said a lot about a person. Climbing the stairs, it felt like you both were out of breath as you arrived in front of a single door. George turned and faced you before opening it.

“Now, just let me say - “ He cleared his throat, “we are trying to get the smell out I promise.” Your eyes widened in suspicion, all of a sudden hesitant of walking in. Creaking the door slightly, your eyes travel over the room, an overwhelming aroma of gunpowder engulfed your nose, stifling a sneeze as you walked in. 

“It’s stuck to the walls I swear but we promised mum we’d do it as soon as we got back.” He shrugged his shoulders, rushing over to the window to open it, wafting the air with his hands as best he could. You laughed, watching him desperately attempt to air out the room. After a few minutes you became accustomed to the smell, taking a seat on his bed, a sweater placed on his and Fred's encrusted with their initials. 

“We probably have a few hours until supper, here, lay down.” George met you around the side of the bed, folding over the quilt ushering you under it. You smiled up at him, taking off your coat and jeans, slithering your legs under the warm blanket. You could’ve swore the duvet was charmed to make you fall asleep immediately, your eyes becoming heavy as soon as your head hit the pillow. You looked up at Goerge one more time, his frame leaning over you to tuck you in.

 You leaned your head up, closing your eyes forming your lips into a comedic pout, begging for a kiss.  He looked down at you, shaking his head and sucking his teeth, teasing you for a moment. He held his body over yours, waiting to see how long he could make you wait. The corners of his mouth twisted into a smirk, watching your eyes scrunch further, waiting for his lips to meet yours. 

“Awe come onnnn.” You mumbled, flopping back into the bed. You kept your eyes closed, pretending to sleep, snoring lightly. George just laughed, turning your face with his hands placing several large kisses across your face, lastly on your lips. He held you, the final kiss lasting a few seconds, before laying your head back down. 

”Ill be back in a little.” His hands rubbed the side of your head lovingly, only the sounds of his feet padding across the floorboards and the door latching, bringing you to a blissful silence. The familiar aroma of the blanket and pillow guiding your body into full relaxation. 

You couldn't wait to wake up and start the holiday break with his family, but for now, you fell asleep in blissful peace. 

[ultravjiolencee]

tired eyes are the death of me | fred g. weasley

summary: a talk in the middle of the night leaves a bittersweet feeling in your heart word count: 1.8k masterlist

The kitchen was draped in shadows, and you didn’t notice him standing there at first.

His tall figure blended into the darkness, his face a silhouette against the faint moonlight filtering through the window. It wasn’t until he turned, his gaze locking with yours, that you stopped short.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you whispered, your voice soft so as not to shatter the stillness of the house.

Fred didn’t respond. Maybe he hadn’t heard you, or maybe he was choosing not to. Undeterred, you made your way to the cupboard. “Tea?” you offered, letting the word hang in the silence.

Still, nothing.

Turning, you caught sight of his faraway stare, fixed on something unseen beyond the windowpane. “Fred?” you called, louder this time.

It was unnerving, the silence in place of his usual banter, the laughter that seemed to follow him like an aura.

You stepped closer, hesitant but unable to leave him alone in whatever thoughts had stolen him away. Gently, you placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Have you ever thought about leaving it all behind?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, and the weight of the question stilled you.

Your hand hovered for a moment before you slowly pulled it back. “What do you mean?”

“Packing up. Just going. Somewhere far away.”

His words struck a chord deep within you, one you didn’t want to admit was there. The thought had crossed your mind before—how could it not? War was looming, and with it came the constant shadow of loss. But running had always felt selfish. Cowardly.

Fred’s voice broke through your thoughts. “We could die, you know.”

A shiver ran down your spine, but you met his words with quiet honesty. “It makes you think, doesn’t it?”

He nodded, his gaze still far away. “About everything.”

“All the regrets,” you murmured.

“I don’t believe in regrets,” he said firmly, finally turning to face you. “When I die, I won’t have any.”

You blinked, startled by his certainty. “I would.”

His brow furrowed, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. “What would you regret?”

You hesitated. There was so much you could say, so much you could leave unsaid. Instead, you gave him a fragment of the truth. “That I didn’t ask you to dance with me.”

The words seemed to surprise him, his eyes narrowing as he searched yours. You felt exposed, the memory of that night as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.

And just like that, you were back in the Great Hall, watching him twirl someone else under the enchanted ceiling.

The music was loud, but all you could hear was the hammering of your own heart. From your spot near the wall, you could see everything—the way he laughed as he spun her, the way his hand rested on her waist, his other hand clasped in hers.

Angelina.

They looked perfect together, didn’t they? You hated that thought almost as much as you hated how happy he seemed.

Jealousy clawed its way up your throat, a bitter taste you couldn’t swallow down. Your own date had left you long ago, likely tired of your distracted glances toward the middle of the room. You felt a twinge of guilt for them, but it was nothing compared to the ache in your chest as Fred and Angelina danced.

You didn’t think he’d noticed you at all that night. You weren’t sure which hurt more—the jealousy or the invisibility.

Finally, you’d had enough. You pushed off the wall, ready to leave the Hall and the sight of him behind.

“Leaving already?”

His voice stopped you cold.

You turned, surprised to see him standing there, his brow furrowed as he looked at you. He was still breathless from dancing, his hair slightly mussed, his tie loosened.

“I’m tired,” you said, your voice steadier than you expected. “You should go back. You seemed to be having fun.”

Something flickered in his eyes, something you couldn’t name. For a moment, you thought he might say something else, but then he only nodded.

“Good night, then,” he said.

And that was it.

You never told him how much that night had hurt, how much you wanted to be the one he twirled under the enchanted ceiling.

Back in the kitchen, the memory clung to you, heavy and suffocating.

Fred’s voice pulled you back to the present. “I would’ve, you know. If I had known.”

The words were quiet but certain, like he had thought them over a hundred times before saying them aloud.

Your heart clenched. “Would you?”

He nodded, his gaze holding yours now, unwavering.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence between you—charged, heavy, and full of things neither of you had ever said.

Fred’s gaze lingered on you, his expression unreadable. The silence between you felt like a fragile thread, one tug away from breaking.

“Remember that night in the common room?” you asked, your voice softer now, as if the memory itself required a gentler touch.

He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “What about it?”

You hesitated, unsure if you wanted to revisit it, unsure if you could. “You told me you were leaving school.”

His smile faded as the weight of that night returned, and his eyes softened with understanding. “I remember.”

The memory was as vivid as the firelight that had danced across his face that night, casting flickering shadows on the walls of the empty common room.

You’d found him there, sitting on the worn couch closest to the fireplace, the warm glow illuminating his freckled skin. It was late, so late that the castle seemed to exhale in its slumber, every creak of the floorboards echoing in the stillness.

You paused in the doorway, watching him for a moment. He looked almost peaceful, his legs stretched out, hands folded in his lap, but there was a tension in his posture—a stillness that wasn’t quite natural.

“You’re up late,” you said as you approached, breaking the silence.

He glanced at you, his lips curving into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Could say the same for you.”

You sat down beside him, the cushion sinking under your weight. “What’s on your mind?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He stared into the flames, his gaze distant, his jaw tight. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. Your stomach twisted, and you gripped the edge of the couch to steady yourself. “Leaving?”

“George and I… we’re finally doing it,” he said, a spark of excitement flickering in his tone. “We’re leaving Hogwarts. Starting the shop. It’s real this time.”

You wanted to be happy for him. You wanted to match his enthusiasm, to tell him how proud you were. But all you could think about was the empty space he would leave behind.

“Just like that?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

“Just like that,” he confirmed.

You turned your gaze to the fire, unable to look at him. The heat of the flames wasn’t enough to chase away the cold knot forming in your chest.

“You’ll do great,” you said, forcing the words out past the lump in your throat.

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

He smiled again, softer this time. “Thanks.”

But the silence that followed was heavy, filled with the things neither of you said. Things like, Will you miss me? Things like, Don’t go.

You didn’t ask him to stay. You couldn’t. So instead, you sat there with him, staring into the fire, letting the unspoken words linger in the space between you.

“I hated you for it,” you confessed now, pulling Fred back into the present.

His brows knit together, and he opened his mouth to speak but stopped, his hand twitching at his side. “Hated me?” he asked, his voice soft, almost disbelieving.

“You left me behind,” you said, your words quiet but unyielding.

“I never meant to.”

“I know,” you whispered. “But you still did.”

The tension between you felt like a taut string, ready to snap, and you both seemed to sense it.

Then he took a step closer. “Can I have this dance?”

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift. “What?”

“This dance,” he repeated, holding out his hand to you. His tone was light, but his eyes held an intensity that rooted you to the spot.

“Why?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I should’ve asked you before,” he said simply.

Your heart stuttered, and for a moment, you didn’t move. But then, slowly, you placed your hand in his.

He pulled you close, his hand settling gently on your back. The kitchen was still, the only sound the faint rustle of your movements as he began to sway with you.

There was no music, but you didn’t need it. The rhythm of your heartbeats was enough.

The moonlight streaming through the window cast a soft glow around you both, and for a moment, the rest of the world disappeared.

As you swayed together, Fred leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Maybe we should do it,” he murmured.

“Do what?” you asked, your eyes closed, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Run away,” he said softly, the words so quiet you almost didn’t catch them.

You froze, pulling back slightly to look at him. His expression was earnest, his eyes searching yours for something—hope, maybe, or agreement.

“Fred…”

“I’m serious,” he said, holding your gaze. “Let’s leave. Just you and me. Forget the war, forget everything else. We could go somewhere far away, start over.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, at the desperation in his eyes. But you shook your head, your voice trembling as you said, “We can’t.”

“Why not?” he pressed, his grip on your hand tightening.

“Because we can’t just run away,” you said, your voice cracking. “Our families, our friends—they need us. We can’t leave them to fight alone.”

His shoulders slumped, and he looked down, his jaw clenching. “I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” you said, your voice firm despite the tears threatening to spill.

Fred looked at you then, his eyes shining with an emotion you couldn’t name. Slowly, he pulled you close again, wrapping his arms around you.

“One day,” he whispered, his voice heavy with a promise. “One day, we’ll have this. A real chance. Just us.”

You closed your eyes, pressing your forehead against his, letting his words wrap around you like a blanket. “I believe you,” you whispered, though the truth was, you weren’t sure if you believed anything anymore.

But in that moment, with his arms around you and the world outside forgotten, you let yourself hope.

&

And years later, when you looked back on that night, you realized neither of you had needed to say it. You both knew.

[ultravjiolencee]

the chocolates | fred g. weasley

summary: fred weasley, a love potion, and a closet—the perfect recipe for disaster word count: 2.5k masterlist

The Gryffindor common room was alive with its usual post-dinner chaos—laughter, shouts from an impromptu game of Exploding Snap, and the faint scratching of quills from students rushing to finish essays.

You were curled up in your usual spot near the fire, absently chewing on the end of your quill as you debated whether your essay on Bezoars needed another paragraph. The warmth of the flames combined with the lively hum of the room almost lulled you into a state of contentment.

That is, until the portrait hole slammed open with a bang, silencing the room.

Fred Weasley burst in, looking like he’d sprinted all the way from the Great Hall. His tie was askew, his hair sticking up in several directions, and his face—well, his face was set in an expression of utter determination.

“There you are!” he boomed, pointing directly at you.

You blinked. “What—”

But before you could finish, Fred crossed the room in long strides, his eyes locked on you with unsettling intensity. He dropped to one knee in front of your chair, clutching your hand in both of his as the entire room watched in stunned silence.

“My darling,” Fred said, his voice trembling with emotion. “My light, my muse, my reason for existing—I’ve been a fool to wait so long to tell you this, but I can’t hold it in any longer. I love you.”

The quill slipped from your fingers. “What?”

“I love you!” he repeated, louder this time, as though sheer volume would make his words more believable. “You’re the sun to my Quidditch pitch, the sugar to my treacle tart, the spell to my wand. Say you’ll be mine forever!”

A beat of stunned silence followed. Then—

“Did he just compare you to a Quidditch pitch?” George’s amused voice cut through the stillness.

Fred whipped around, glaring at his twin. “Shut it, George. You wouldn’t understand true love if it hit you with a Bludger.”

The absurdity of the situation might have been funny and a bit sweet if you weren’t so mortified. You yanked your hand out of Fred’s grip and stood, glaring at him.

“Fred, what is going on?” you demanded.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Fred said, springing to his feet with alarming energy. “I’m in love with you. Have been for ages. But tonight, I ate those chocolates and suddenly realized that life without you is meaningless.”

Your stomach dropped. Chocolates?

“Wait,” you said slowly, your mind racing. “What chocolates?”

Fred grinned. “The ones in the green box on my bed! Absolutely delicious—did you make them for me, darling? A little token of your affection?”

You froze, realization crashing over you like a tidal wave. The chocolates.

You had made them, but not for Fred. They were part of your Potions homework—Professor Snape had tasked the class with brewing a subtle love potion and incorporating it into a confection. Your plan had been to dispose of them after class. But you’d gotten distracted while helping George brainstorm a prank and probably accidentally left the box in the boys’ dormitory.

Fred had eaten them.

The rest of the evening spiraled into chaos.

Fred followed you everywhere, loudly declaring his undying devotion to anyone who would listen. The common room was no longer just alive with its usual noise—it was filled with Fred’s dramatic serenades and heartfelt speeches.

At one point, he climbed onto the back of the sofa to address the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen! I would like you all to know that I, Fred Weasley, am in love. Truly, madly, deeply—”

“Fred, get down!” you hissed, tugging at his arm.

“—with the most beautiful soul in all of Hogwarts!” he continued, completely ignoring you. “And I don’t care who knows it!”

The younger students cheered enthusiastically, while the older ones groaned in exasperation.

“I’m begging you,” George muttered, rubbing his temples. “End this madness.”

You’d had enough. Grabbing Fred’s wrist, you dragged him out of the common room and into an empty corridor.

“Fred, listen to me. You’re under the influence of a love potion. This isn’t real.” Even if you secretly wished it was, but you would never admit that out loud.

Fred’s response was to grab your hands again, gazing at you with heartbreaking sincerity. “But it feels real, my love. Isn’t that what matters?”

“No!” you snapped, pulling away. “Because you’re going to feel very stupid when this wears off.”

It took until the next morning for the potion to wear off, leaving you sleep-deprived and thoroughly annoyed.

When Fred stumbled into the Great Hall, you could tell instantly that he was back to his normal self. His wide-eyed horror when he spotted you was proof enough.

“I—oh no,” he said, freezing in the doorway. “I didn’t… did I?”

You folded your arms. “You did.”

Fred groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he sank into the seat across from you. “How bad was it?”

“Bad enough that half the school thinks we’re engaged,” you deadpanned.

He groaned louder, burying his face in his arms. “Merlin, kill me now.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but smile, a flicker of hope in your heart. “Well, at least now I know what you’d be like if you fancied me.”

Fred froze, his arms still covering his face. For a moment, you thought he hadn't heard you. But then, slowly, he sat up, avoiding your gaze as he forced out a laugh that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Yeah, well, lucky for you, that'll never happen," he said, his tone a little too casual. "Can you imagine? Me, fancying you? Talk about a nightmare."

His words hit harder than you expected, your chest tightening uncomfortably.

"Right. A nightmare," you echoed, keeping your voice light even though his dismissal stung more than you wanted to admit.

Fred shifted awkwardly in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck. "Anyway, thanks for, uh, not hexing me last night. I think l'll just... be going now."

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone at the table with your thoughts.

Over the next few days, things didn't go back to normal like you'd hoped.

Fred was acting... strange. He didn't avoid you outright, but he also wasn't his usual self. Gone were the easy grins and playful jabs he always threw your way. Instead, he seemed quieter, more distant, and almost hesitant whenever you were around.

At first, you thought he was embarrassed about what had happened, which made sense. After all, he'd spent an entire evening serenading you and professing his undying love in front of half the common room. Who wouldn't want to disappear after that?

But the longer his odd behavior went on, the harder it was to shake the nagging feeling that it wasn't just embarrassment keeping him away.

Maybe he regretted it-not just the potion-induced spectacle, but all of it.

The chocolates, the confessions, even spending time with you.

The thought made your chest ache in a way that surprised you. You hadn't realized just how much you'd grown to enjoy Fred's attention, his laughter, the way he always managed to make even the most ordinary moments feel brighter.

But now, it felt like he was slipping away, and there wasn't anything you could do about it.

You tried to convince yourself that it didn't matter, that Fred Weasley would never feel that way about you. And even if he did, it was only because of a stupid potion. Nothing real.

Still, the ache didn't go away.

&

The days dragged on, and the awkwardness between you and Fred showed no signs of fading. It was as though an invisible wall had gone up between you, and neither of you seemed willing—or able—to break it down.

Unfortunately for you, George Weasley had noticed.

One evening, as you sat in the common room trying (and failing) to focus on your Potions essay, George dropped into the seat across from you with a casual grin that immediately put you on edge.

“Hey there,” he said, propping his chin on his hand like he had all the time in the world.

You raised an eyebrow. “What do you want, George?”

“Why do you assume I want something?” he asked, feigning offense. “Maybe I just enjoy your company.”

You shot him a flat look.

“Alright, fine,” he said, leaning forward. “I couldn’t help but notice you and Fred have been acting… weird lately. Care to explain?”

Your stomach clenched. “We’re not acting weird.”

George snorted. “Right. And Peeves isn’t a menace. Come on, what happened? Did you two finally confess your undying love for each other and now you’re too shy to make eye contact?”

Heat flooded your face. “What? No! That’s not—”

“Relax, I’m kidding.” George smirked, but his eyes were sharper than usual, like he was trying to piece something together. “Still, you two have been avoiding each other like the plague, and it’s getting pretty pathetic. So, here’s the deal—I’m going to help.”

You groaned. “I don’t need your help, George.”

“Too bad,” he said cheerfully, standing up and dusting off his robes. “Because you’re getting it anyway.”

Before you could argue, he was gone, whistling as he disappeared up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory.

The next day, you found yourself standing outside a supply closet near the Charms classroom, clutching a note George had pressed into your hand that morning. “Meet me here at seven,” it read, the handwriting unmistakably his.

You had half a mind to ignore it, but curiosity—and a faint flicker of hope that he might have some kind of plan to fix things with Fred—got the better of you.

When you opened the door, the last person you expected to see was Fred, but you should’ve.

He was leaning against a stack of boxes, arms crossed and looking just as startled to see you. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“George told me to meet him,” you said, stepping inside. “Why are you here?”

“He told me the same thing,” Fred muttered, narrowing his eyes as he glanced at the door. “Wait a minute—”

Before either of you could react, the door slammed shut behind you with a deafening clunk.

Fred lunged for the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered, jiggling it uselessly.

“Let me guess,” you said dryly, crossing your arms. “It’s locked?”

Fred sighed, resting his forehead against the door. “Yeah. It’s locked.”

The silence in the cramped closet was unbearable. You could hear every breath Fred took, every restless shuffle of his feet. He was standing close—too close—his familiar scent of soap and something faintly sweet filling the air.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to laugh. Mostly, you wanted to get out of there before you said something you’d regret.

“I don’t understand why he’s doing this,” Fred muttered, pacing the tiny space like a trapped animal.

“Maybe he’s sick of you avoiding me,” you snapped, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice.

Fred froze mid-step, his back to you. “I’m not avoiding you.”

You scoffed. “Really? Because you’ve barely said three words to me in the last week, and you won’t even look at me.”

Fred’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t turn around. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” you pressed, stepping closer despite yourself. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you can’t wait to get away from me.”

“That’s not true,” Fred said, his voice tight.

“Then explain it!” you demanded, your frustration spilling over. “Because all I can think is that you’re embarrassed about what happened. About me. And honestly, Fred, if that’s the case, then—”

“It’s because I like you, alright?” Fred exploded, spinning around to face you.

The words slammed into you like a rogue Bludger, knocking the air from your lungs.

“What?” you whispered, barely able to process what he’d just said.

“I like you,” Fred repeated, his voice softer now but no less intense. “I’ve liked you for ages, and that stupid potion just… it made it impossible to hide. And then when it wore off, I panicked because I didn’t know what to say, and I didn’t want to ruin things, so I thought maybe if I stayed away…”

He trailed off, running a hand through his hair as he looked at you, his eyes pleading. “I was avoiding you because I’m a coward. Not because I’m embarrassed. Never that.”

Your heart was racing, your emotions a chaotic swirl of disbelief, anger, and something else—something warm and fragile that you’d been too afraid to name until now.

“You’re an idiot,” you said, your voice trembling.

Fred blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“You’re an idiot,” you repeated, stepping closer until you were mere inches apart. “Because I like you too, and you could’ve just said something instead of making me think you hated me.”

Fred’s eyes widened, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, like a dam breaking, he surged forward, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you with a desperation that made your knees weak.

You kissed him back, your hands clutching at his robes as the tension that had been building between you for weeks melted away, replaced by something infinitely sweeter.

The sound of the door creaking open barely registered until a familiar voice drawled, “Well, well, well. About time.”

You and Fred broke apart, spinning to see George leaning casually against the doorframe, his grin so wide it was practically criminal.

“George?” Fred said, his voice laced with both shock and irritation.

“Don’t mind me,” George said, waving a hand. “Just here to check on my brilliant plan. Which, I must say, worked beautifully.”

Your stomach dropped. “Plan?”

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” George said, crossing his arms. “Who do you think left that box of chocolates on Fred’s bed in the first place?”

Fred’s jaw dropped. “You knew about the love potion?”

“Of course I knew,” George said, looking offended. “I took them from your bag after you got distracted helping me brainstorm pranks. Figured it was the perfect opportunity to give you two a little push.”

Your mouth opened and closed, words failing you. “You—you tricked me?”

“I prefer ‘strategically intervened,’” George said, flashing you a cheeky grin. “And before you get too mad, just remember—it worked. You’re welcome.”

Fred groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Merlin, George, you’re insufferable.”

“Insufferably brilliant,” George corrected, clapping Fred on the shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a very smug letter to write to Mum about my matchmaking skills. Ta!”

With that, he sauntered off, whistling a jaunty tune and leaving you and Fred standing in stunned silence.

Fred let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Only George.”

You couldn’t help but smile, the weight of the last week finally lifting. “Remind me to kill him later.”

“Only after I thank him,” Fred said, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Because, for once, his meddling actually worked out.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “It did.”

This time, when he kissed you, there was no tension, no uncertainty—just the kind of warmth that made you wonder how you’d ever lived without it.