#forget

The inability to forget is far more devastating than the inability to remember.

-- Mark Twain

- Summory: After the war, you return to the Burrow changed and distant. When you tell Fred, “You don’t know me. I’m not the same person anymore,” he simply smiles and replies, “That’s okay. I’ll get to know you again.” In that moment, love becomes something new , not what you were, but what you can be together.

- Word Count: 593

- Pairing: Reader x Fred Weasley

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The Burrow used to feel like laughter. Now it just… echoed.

You stood at the edge of the garden, where wildflowers had grown over old footprints remnants of a life that felt like a dream you could no longer reach. The air smelled faintly of smoke and summer rain, and for a long moment, you just stared at the crooked house that had once felt like home.

You hadn’t been back since the Battle of Hogwarts.

Too many ghosts lived here now not the kind that floated through walls, but the kind that whispered through memories. You nearly turned around, but a voice, warm and familiar, stopped you.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you lurking around here again.”

Fred Weasley.

You turned slowly, heart catching in your throat. He was leaning against the fence, arms crossed, hair a bit longer now, a faint scar tracing his jaw. But it was his eyes bright, mischievous, and impossibly kind that undid you.

“Fred,” you breathed, the name tasting strange after so long. “You’re… here.”

He grinned faintly. “Where else would I be? Mum won’t let me leave for too long, says the place falls apart without me.” His voice tried to sound light, but there was an undercurrent something softer, something uncertain.

You smiled weakly, but the ache in your chest grew heavier. “It’s been a while.”

“Too long,” he agreed quietly. “You look… different.”

You gave a hollow laugh. “War tends to do that.”

The words hung between you, sharp, fragile, too honest. Fred’s grin faltered, and for the first time, you saw the exhaustion behind his usual spark.

He took a hesitant step closer. “I heard you weren’t doing too well,” he said gently. “That you-”

“-weren’t the same?” you finished, meeting his gaze. “Yeah. That’s true.”

Fred’s brow furrowed. “You don’t believe that’s a bad thing, do you?”

You shrugged, voice low. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. The girl you knew, she’s gone. You don’t know me, Fred. I’m not the same person anymore.”

Silence.

Then, with a softness that nearly broke you, he said, “That’s okay. I’ll get to know you again.”

You blinked, stunned by the simplicity of it. No grand speeches. No empty promises. Just Fred steady, real, Fred.

He smiled faintly, closing the space between you until his fingers brushed yours. “You think I fell for who you used to be? No, love. I fell for you. And if you’ve changed, then I’ll just have to learn the new bits. I’m a quick study, you know.”

Your laugh cracked through the tears. “Still cocky, aren’t you?”

“Wouldn’t be me otherwise,” he teased softly, thumb brushing away a tear you didn’t even realize had fallen.

He looked at you then, really looked, as if memorizing the person standing before him, not the one you used to be. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you let him.

You both stood in the fading sunlight, the garden around you buzzing with life bees humming, leaves rustling, the world daring to breathe again.

Fred’s hand found yours. “We’ll start small,” he murmured. “A cup of tea with Mum. A walk. Maybe a prank or two if you’re up for it.”

You smiled softly, resting your forehead against his. “And if I’m not?”

“Then I’ll wait,” he whispered. “As long as it takes.”

The war had taken too much. But somehow, in the quiet between heartbreak and healing, Fred Weasley was still there stubbornly, selflessly, choosing you again.