#fred angst

“Stop it, Fred!”, you giggle softly as he begins to scatter soft kisses across your face while continuing to give you all the compliments that come to his mind, which his twin brother does not approve of either as his face kind of turns into a shade of green.

“Gross, get a room”, George chokes out, while you are not sure how much of it he is faking and what is actually real, but at least he manages to stop his brother with his words.

“Just don’t pay attention to him, he is just an annoying ringing in the ear and pretty jealous that his last date did not go as well”, Fred winks at you, causing you to laugh out loud. “How about we sneak out to the lake tonight? Just the two of us?”

“Sounds great”, you smile and gently kiss him, which George comments on with another gag. Running your hands over your boyfriend’s broad shoulders, you adjust his Quidditch uniform while grinning to yourself. “I think your brother wants to go and unfortunately, I have to go to Potions now.”

“Alright, see you tonight, my love”, Fred smiles, kissing you one last goodbye before the two of them wave you goodbye and disappear into the castle. Absorbed in your dreamy thoughts, you look after them and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, but when you suddenly hear footsteps behind you, your posture stiffens and the voices you now hear make you shiver. These voices never mean anything good.

“Oh, how adorable! But what would Mommy and Daddy Y/L/N say if they knew their only daughter and heiress to their empire is dating a Weasley?”, Pansy Parkinson’s annoying voice says behind you, her words making your heart beat faster. You and Fred do not hide the fact that you are in a relationship, but you have always kept it low, especially in front of the Slytherins. Because each of them knows your family, and your family happens to be unaware of their daughters’ dishonorable actions, or, well, love interests.

“They always talk about you in such high tones, and they don’t even know that their daughter lies to their face every time, so cold and unscrupulous. A Gryffindor and a Slytherin? My parents would kick me out of Hogwarts in a heartbeat and never let me leave the house again”, Daphne Greengrass adds, a wicked grin on her lips that is only made worse by the fact that you do not have a counter.

Because they are right. It is the truth.

As the only child of the Y/L/N family, you have always been in the spotlight, but not in a good way. You have never been allowed to make mistakes or make your own decisions or live the way you want or hang out with the people you want. Business dinners and balls are all you knew for a long time, events where they could present their flagship daughter to the world. They never realized the pressure they put on you. Or they did but did not care about it.

“Leave me alone”, are the only puny words you can manage to get out before rushing to the safety of the building. Their judgmental looks burn into the back of your head and their words entice you to take a detour, not to your next lesson but to your common room in the Slytherin dungeon, where you lie down on your bed and do not get up until the next morning. While doing so, you completely forgot that you actually had plans with Fred in the evening and instead spent your time trying to avoid your parents’ looks from the family photo next to your bed. Without success, because you can clearly feel their disappointment and the consequences of your actions incredibly scare you, which is why you make a decision for your own sake.

Even if it means you have to break the heart of the boy who was always there for you when your family was not.

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The numerous voices swirling around you just echo to you through a tunnel as you sit listlessly in front of your breakfast, your stomach heavy. You do not dare to raise your eyes for fear you might make eye contact with someone. Lonely, you sit at the end of the table, the other Slytherins paying little attention to the fact that one of them separates themselves from the group.

When a plate falls to the ground with a loud crash at a table next to you, shattering into many pieces, you startle and reflexively look in that direction. Which turns out to be a huge mistake, because your eyes meet Fred’s in a second, who is smiling at you from across the hall. He does not look the tiniest bit disappointed that you dumped him, he just seems happy that you are sitting here this morning. With the first of the day approaching, the first few students rise and scurry to the exit of the Great Hall, trying to make it to their classrooms in time.

Fred, who has not taken his eyes off you, gets up at the exact same moment you do. Noticing this, you quicken your steps and duck among the crowd of students that are gathering in the hallways. You ignore the fact that he calls after you before you fully disappear into the crowd and go straight to your lesson.

Relieved that you could manage to avoid him all day, you leave the room after class, your backpack over your shoulder and a book under your right arm. However, you do not expect Fred to be waiting for you in the hallway with his back against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest. Your eyes meet for a brief moment, and you immediately turn away, going in the other direction, but it is too late. If he did not notice before that you are avoiding him, he definitely noticed now when he runs after you, standing in front of you to block your way.

“Fred, I am in a hurry”, you say with your head down and walk past him, but he grabs your arms, lifting you off the ground briefly before placing you directly in front of him again. No more escape.

“Why are you avoiding me?”, he asks directly, which only makes you more insecure. Your trembling hands grip the book tighter, as if it could give you strength to get through what is about to come.

“I am not avoiding you, I just really don’t have time to-”

“Did I do something wrong?”, Fred asks worried and sad, making your heart ache even more. The fact that he immediately related all of it to himself does not make it any easier for you to say the next few words, but you know you have to.

“I don’t think this works, Fred”, you say emotionlessly, but your shaky voices gives your true feelings away. Still, the shock creeping up on his face is unbearable.

“Wait, wait.. What? What are you even talking about?”, he prompts, as if he did not quite understand what you were saying, even though you both know perfectly what you just hinted at.

“I am just saying.. We are too different. You are a Gryffindor, I am Slytherin. It just doesn’t fit”, you explain and as soon as the words leave your lips realize that this will not be the point that ultimately convinces him. Because it sounds stupid. Because it is stupid.

“Who put such nonsense in your head?”, Fred laughs, but there is no humor in it. “Was it that Pansy Parkinson again? What did she say this time-”

“No, Fred. It’s my decision, no one told me anything and if you will excuse me now, I have classes that require my presence”, you brush him off and due to the complete state of shock Fred is in right now, he lets you pass him. He does not notice the tear that runs down your cheek as you do.

“So I am supposed to just accept that you are breaking up with me, leaving me without any proper explanation?”, he finally calls after you in a loud voice. But what makes you stop are not his words, but the sadness that resonates with them. Your heart breaks a bit more at the sound.

“Fred..”

“You dumped me yesterday without telling me. I didn’t know where you were, I didn’t know what happened or if you were okay. I was worried sick just for you to ignore me the whole day and then tell me it is over between us?”, he says, hurt and confused by what is happening at the moment, unable to understand why you are suddenly feeling this way. “I am sorry, but I don’t think what you are saying is true.”

“How so? Because I always lie?”

“No, that is not-”

“Alright, Fred, I got it. Everything always has to be up to you”, you claim, getting too involved in this arising argument. If he had just accepted your decision, it would have been less painful for both of you.

“It is not fair, Y/N. If you really want to end this between us, then I also deserve to know why”, Fred replies and takes another step towards you so that you can see the pain in his eyes even better now. His gaze holds yours and when you think you see tears forming in his eyes, all damns in you break all of a sudden.

“You want to know why?! Because I am no good for you, Fred. I am a bad person. We should not even exist as a couple because it is doomed to fail anyway! I am not allowed to associate with the people I like and choose myself. I am and always have been the pride of my family and I will not let them down just because I am with someone like you-”

You cannot finish your emotional outburst as Fred pulls you into the bone-crushing hug you so desperately needed, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly. He runs his hand over your hair, the back of your head, and your back in an attempt to calm you down and stop your tears.

“Who your parents are doesn’t define who you are, Y/N”, he whispers softly in your ear as you violently sob in his strong arms, that hold you upright to not let you sink on the cold floor. “You are the most incredible witch I have ever met, and your parents must be so incredibly proud of you, there is no other way. You have always done what they asked of you, but it is finally time for you to be selfish. I won’t lose you over this. I won’t allow it.”

Fred’s words patch your heart back together in seconds and make it pound faster than ever. You know he is right and you do not have to bow to your parents’ demands anymore. But there is still a long way to go before you can fully accept yourself as you are and be proud of yourself at the same time. Fred will be with you every step on this journey.

“Vanilla Cap for Fred” The waitress called out placing his take out cup on the side, he took it gratefully with a wink to the girl who giggled a response. Y/N let a small sad smile grace her lips, suddenly being overcome with a wash of sadness. She returned her gaze down to her coffee, not daring to catch his eye knowing her words would get caught up before she would even have to chance to get them out. What Y/N didn’t see was the way Fred searched the cafe when he smelt Y/N’s usual perfume, he didn’t even realise the small table in the corner harbouring the girl he had been searching for. Fred shook the thought of Y/N out of his head before returning to his brother. 

— — — 

It had been two days since the ‘coffee incident’ that Y/N had nicknamed it, she couldn’t bring herself to leave her apartment which overlooked Diagon Ally, giving her the perfect spying spot into Fred’s own shop. She remembered back to when she used to spend every single evening stacking shelves and helping Fred with displays, just because she wanted to spend time with him. She would have never believed that they would go three years without even seeing each other back then, yet here they were. She tucked her legs underneath her as she watched Fred leave the shop with George, they locked the door and strolled down the centre of the street, there was a part of Y/N that longed to go and talk to them, just to feel the same love she always used to. But she knew it couldn’t ever go back to the way things were before she left. Pushing all thoughts of the ginger twins out of her mind she decided it was safe to head to the coffee shop and get herself the one thing she had been craving. A caramel Latte.

 The coffee shop was practically empty, Y/N didn’t bother to acknowledge the rest of the customers, she didn’t even bother to turn around when the bell rang signalling that someone else had entered. “Caramel Latte for Y/N” the waitress called, Y/N stepped forward and took her drink with a thankful smile and a small tip. 

“I never thought I’d hear that again” A familiar voice spoke barely above a whisper, Y/N felt her heart plummet 

“Fred?” She whispered turning around and finding herself standing far too close for her liking, Fred looked down at her and studied her features, like he always did when he couldn’t read her 

“Hey love” He said the nickname rolling easily off of his tongue 

“I… I should… uh…” Y/N stopped herself not being able to find a single word in her busy mind 

“How was travelling?” George asked tearing Y/N’s attention off of Fred and to himself 

“It was amazing, it was um well just what I needed after everything” She said letting her eyes cast down to the floor after the mention of the breakup 

“Time heals” George commented noting the shift in tension 

“Y/N” Fred said gently “How long are you here for?” He asked 

“For good, I’ve just started renting out an apartment above the ice cream shop” She said quietly 

“Our ice cream shop?” Fred asked, Y/N instantly felt the tears spring to her eyes. He remembered their stupid dream of owning the ice cream shop and renting out the apartment above it. 

“Yeah” She stammered, “I really have to go” She said hurriedly clutching her coffee and walking out of the shop ignoring the calls of both Fred and George. 

—— — — — 

A knock on the door pulled Y/N out of her intense downward spiral since seeing Fred, without thinking she swung her door open and was met with the one person who she couldn’t bare to see. She quickly tried to close the door but Fred had stepped into her apartment before she could. 

“I had to see you again love” He said quietly “I can’t believe you got this place, it’s so you” He smiled 

“I wanted to make it mine, it’s home now” She said 

“It’s been a while” He said standing awkwardly as Y/N closed the door with him now inside the apartment 

“It has” “Three years, two months and ten days” He said 

“You remember?” She asked 

“That was since we broke up, I haven’t been able to forget” He chuckled lightly 

“Can I get you a drink?” “Can we just talk?” Fred asked 

“I guess” Y/N said taking a seat on the pink sofa, Fred sat next to her. Not daring to get too close, just incase he made her feel uncomfortable, it had been a while since they had even been in the same room 

“I still haven’t apologised for that night” “Fred it’s in the past” “No it’s not, not when I keep replaying it every night. I shouldn’t have said those things” Fred admitted

“Please Fred I can’t do this” “You’re not selfish, I was scared of loosing you to the world. I was scared someone else would see how amazing you are and I would loose you for good. Everything I said was a lie, you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met and I haven’t been able to get you out of my head” Fred paused 

“I was selfish, travelling was my dream not yours I never should have asked you to come and leave the shop behind” Y/N said “You were right about that” “No” He said firmly “You couldn’t be selfish even if you tried love” He paused again “I never thought I’d see you again” he admitted

“Me neither” She said 

“I’ve missed you, I know I don’t have the right to say that but I have. The moment you walked out of the shop I missed you, I’ve started seeing a therapist after everything. I wanted to get my anger under control in case you ever came bacK” “Fred—”

“I hate myself for what I said to you, and I swear it will never happen again” 

“Fred you can’t say that, things happen a certain way for a reason” 

“Then we met today for a reason, and I don’t know what that reason is but I’m hoping it’s to help me win you back” He said taking her hand gently in his “Please just give me a chance” “that’s all I’ve wanted to hear for the past three years” She admitted “But Fred I don’t know” “One date, that’s all I’m asking” “Fred—”

“I’ll get you a caramel latte with four sugars, just one date love” He said, Y/N smiled at how he still remembered her coffee order

“Just one?” She said 

“Just one, I swear. Then we can take it from there” Fred promised

“Fine” 

“You won’t regret this love, I swear” He said pressing a kiss to her hand. 

taglist 

…

Rich kids, poor kids, middle class kids, no matter where you fall, there can be crap to deal with.

High society was fine for Daphne Blake, she shopped where she wanted, she always had food, she had a car-

She was exhausted.

Any club or extra curricular you could name, she's done. She gives everything 210% in the hopes that something will make her parents look her way.

She'd failed so far.

Shaggy Rogers hated high society, too much pressure and too many snobs. He'd been forced into so many clubs as a kid, he ended up hating everything except track.

He tried to do anything to keep his parents out of his business, to get them off his back, to block out their suffocating words. He spent time with Daphne- which was so easy, but his parents didn't need to know that- he did his school work, he went to track meets, he did anything and everything to be good and invisible to them, to get them to stop asking for more.

He'd failed so far.

Fred Jones loved his parents. He thinks… It was hard to love people he never saw for more than an hour over the course of a month. Their love for adventure didn't stop cause they had a kid, and Fred was happy for them, but the house- already rather small- felt like a box closing in on him every moment he spent there alone.

He did what he could, to keep himself occupied, to get himself some spending money- for all his parents' love of adventure, they mostly just had great luck and jobs that traveled. Fred did everything, so the house wouldn't crush him at night.

He'd failed so far.

Velma Dinkley's parents didn't quite understand Velma. It frustrated her most of the time, being forced into a bubble she never wanted to be in. She just didn't feel things the same way, didn't always say what she meant, her dad called her mean, and her mom ignored it and pretended she was her pretty little perfect daughter.

She distances herself as much as she's able, she doesn't give in to the pressure of disappointed sighs. She hangs out with Fred Jones, because he doesn't mind being her partner in class and makes her think about what she says. She tries to convince herself that the thought of going home isn't exhausting, that she can handle it.

She'd failed so far.

They're all just shy of 18, senior year, and they finally find themselves in the same place together. They've had interactions of different pairs/groupings, but now they're all four face to face. Well 5, if you include the dog, which they should since he was of the talking type and would get offended otherwise.

They'd all individually decided to solve the same mystery. It was the biggest- and only noteworthy- mystery of the town. Daphne just knew this would impress her parents- or she'd get to punch a ghost. Where Daphne went, Shaggy was bound to end up one way or the other, a little food was the best bribe, and Scooby was by his side and Daphne was in front of him, he had nothing better to do. Velma was unconvinced it was a real ghost- though she now knew a talking dog so- but whether it was or wasn't, she could hone her skills and hope for a challenge to solve. Fred couldn't very well let Velma go alone- he didn't have enough money to bail her out of jail if she decided to fight someone or trespass- and he was always looking for exciting things to keep him from home, and if there was a ghost, they'd need a trap.

To find other teens willing to go ghost hunting at a questionable hour in an abandoned fairground, was not what they'd expected however.

"Daphne Blake and Shaggy Rogers, I wouldn't expect to find people of your standing out here." Velma will say it came out better than it would have, but still harsher than what she'd meant.

She didn't mean, 'why are you rich as*e* in a sketchy field?' She meant, 'You guys do a lot at school, how did your parents let you out of the house to do this tonight?' Before either she or Fred can add to it however, Shaggy answers,

"I figure if there's gonna be any screaming tonight, it'd be like better if I can get some out first before I go home." Shaggy seems more mellow than he does at school, hand running over the dog- Scooby's- head.

"I'm gonna punch a ghost." Daphne states plainly, glaring at Shaggy when he elbows her, "and hopefully get into the paper, my dad reads that every morning." She adds reluctantly, turning to make her way into the fairgrounds.

"Do you mind if we join you guys?" Fred asks quickly, as Shaggy and Scooby follow the red head.

"Sure, a bigger group may attract the ghost!" She calls over her shoulder.

"We do not need help." Velma tells Fred.

'I do not feel comfortable.'

"Don't worry Velm, if we work together you'll have more time to do the fun stuff." Fred smiles, throwing an arm over her shoulders to guide her towards the other teens.

There is no ghost. Just an old man who wanted cheap land. But for a moment, it seemed as if there was one, a clue here or there that didn't quite add up. They all bounced off each other well, Shaggy understood what Velma meant and even seemed to appreciate her bluntness occasionally. Daphne listened to what she had to say, and pointed out things the girl missed- finding signs and meanings from seemingly random things that weren't actually random. Freds elaborate traps were easier done with three added people- and easier to shrink down to an easier one with three arguments to why they didn't need a flamethrower Fred.

They do get their picture taken for the paper, to be released in the morning somehow, but for the rest of their night, they take Shaggy's suggestion and find the 24 hour diner for milkshakes and snacks. They don't realize they need to wind down until they're sitting in a corner booth and their hands shake as they hold their menus.

"I don't want to go home." Shaggy murmurs after a few milkshakes and three plates of food.

"You could come to mine." Daphne responds, "Not like my parents will notice." She adds under her breath, slouching because she knows her mom hates it.

"So you meant it before, about the yelling?" Fred ventured cautiously, playing with the straw in his drink.

Shaggy shrugs,

"They say I've got a head full of chemicals, but their mouths are still full of ridicule. I had to like… fight to get my meds, but they hate it. Hate…" He trails off, shoulders curling inwards as he thumbs a bruise on his wrist. "It's whatever."

"It is not. Your parents suck and I hate them." Daphne glowers at the straw wrapper she's mangling, since she can't touch his parents.

"So do yours." Shaggy counters, leaning on her shoulder some.

"You guys could come to my house. I… don't have a lot of room, but it's empty anyways. Parents wouldn't even notice if you slept in their room." Fred puts in, nudging Velma to include her in the offer.

"My mother would lock me up if she knew I'd stayed at your place." Velma says with a huff.

Daphne sits straighter,

"So you stayed at my house." She says, eyes gleaming. "And I stayed at yours if mine bothered to ask. And Shaggy was at Freds."

"Idk Daph, they'll already be pissed tonight…" Shaggy looks like he wants nothing more than to say yes, but a fear lingers in his eyes.

"Well, if they're going to yell anyway…" Velma re-uses Shaggy's earlier reasoning, and suddenly it's like they've all been friends for years and this is totally ordinary behavior for them.

Like, 'Of course we're gonna lie to our parents about where we are and have a sleepover at Freds.' Like there isn't the likely chance of real consequences in a couple of their futures, but it doesn't matter in this moment. And as they gather at Freddys house, they come up with more plans, more 'of course's!' Because they get along like a house on fire, and smooth eachothers edges and calm eachothers nerves and boost each other's confidences. By the end of their night, after hearts laid bare- bruises on display, feeling gross and out there, tears shed and shouts shouted- they have the vaguest of plans.

Several days later, finds phone calls from panicked- re; angry- parents to one another.

"I thought they were with you!" Mr. Rogers accuses Mr. Blake.

"Why in good heavens would I allow my daughter to have two boys stay the night??"

"Well what about my sweet baby Velma?? She said she was at Daphnes!" Mrs. Dinkley is in tears, she had plans for them! Mommy daughter plans!

"Norville said he would be at Fredricks house dear." Mrs. Rogers cuts in, voice devoid of anything.

"Oh my. Well they could have been I suppose… let me look." Mrs. Jones mutters all the way to her son's room, jetlag weighing heavy on her mind, she had wanted to sleep when she'd arrived, not deal with this. "Oh look, a note, let me get my glasses-"

"Hurry up woman!" Mr. Rogers yells, he was late for work dammit!

"Alright alright, so fussy, I have a headache… hm, Dear adults- so informal- Dear Adults,

We have left. If you are reading this, we've been gone for nearly a week without your notice. As we are nearly adults ourselves, we decided we weren't going to put up with your sh*t anymore. If you want to check on us, watch the News, we'll be making history with our new 'Mystery Solving' gig.

Goodbye forever probably,

~Velma, Shaggy, Daphne, Fred

"Oh there's a paw print too, how festive."

The angry yells last for long hours and weeks after. Police read the note and do indeed find them on the News, they inform the parents there's not much they can do. They warn them, an investigation may garner… worse results than they hope for.

The threat is clear.

As my eyelids flutter open, the blinding light shines in through the flat window. I breathe in a slow heavy breath before flipping over to my side. I'm awaited by the view of Y/N peacefully in her sleep.

I stay there, motionless, gazing at Y/N.

"F-fuck, F-fred I-," a quiet whimper escapes her lips.

I blink, perplexed and shocked. I move up, propping up on my elbows, watching Y/N carefully.

"F-fred, oh- f-f-fu-fuck," she stammers in her sleep, gently her head rolls around in her pillow.

While I delicately pull back the covers, watching as her thighs rub together vigorously, a sudden thought comes to mind. When I place my hand on her vibrating skin, she doesn't wake up, only flinches and continues to rub. Her thighs are warm and they glow in the sunlight.

Under the covers, rimmed around right below her hip bones are a pair of cream colored panties. Slowly, I drag the soaking fabric down to her ankles. When she still doesn't awaken, I throw them out of the way, they desert somewhere on the ground.

Her soaked heat drips around her entrance. Her drips slip down her skin, creating a stain on the bedsheets, that puts a smirk on my face.

Careful not to wake Y/N up from her, seemingly, wet dream, about me, I push two digits far up heat. I feel as her body shivers around me, but still she doesn't wake up.

I begin pumping in and out, watching as Y/N grows more and more aroused. The stages she goes through until she's gripping the sheets in her palms, and her back arches above the mattress.

Her moans and whimpers push me into a delirious ecstasy. I can feel myself growing hard as each second passes. Y/N jitters and her thighs rub together again, her body begging for more. I'm tempted to push further, but I'm halted at that though when Y/N's walls tense up around my fingers.

Y/N lets out a delicious moan as she comes onto my fingers. Her body relaxes, falling limp in the mixture of bedsheets and covers.

I slip my fingers in her open mouth, and I feel her tongue instantly swirling around and cushioning my skin. Lazily, Y/N's eyelids flutter open, but her look of exhaustion disappears when she sees me towering over her.

"Good morning, love."

**********

It broke Fred's heart. It really did. He didn't mean to forget this things, he didn't want to hurt you. His mind was just so full all the time. So many things were going on in those brains of his.

"I mean it, I'm sorry, I love you y/n" he assured.

And she fell for it, like she always did. It happened every time. Fred said things that made her melt, and she forgave him. It was nothing new. Because how could she not? The sweet boy didn't mean to hurt her, she knew that, everyone knew that.

But still, her friends warned her. There was no future with a boy like this. It couldn't stay like this. So she swore to herself this was the last time. She made that clear to Fred too.

Because what if he's the love of her life? Her future? This was her last year after all, y/n’s future was right in front of her. What if Fred was her future? You both couldn't give that up.

May- 1996 - Hogwarts

Everything was alright.

They were okay.

And Fred hasn’t been late for a whole month, sounds like nothing special but to him and her it was.

This weekend y/n was going home, and not just home, but with Fred.

After a year it was time for him to meet her parents. Fred claimed he was the perfect son in law, so he didn’t hesitate to agree. Y/n was nervous and excited at the same time.

Ready in her dorm, with a portkey, she had her favourite sundress on. She was waiting for Fred but he didn’t show up. Okay it was only 15 minutes now, but with their little history it made her nervous. She was absolutely sure Fred wouldn’t forget this. He can’t forget this.

20 minutes later she was still waiting.

No. This couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t be.

And then, she found a note under her potionsbook. After reading only one word, she was already furious, a growing heat filling her cheeks.

Dear y/n, love

I remembered. I swear. But I just won’t make it. I’m not feeling okay and I think I might have a fever or something. I don’t want to make you or your parents sick, so I’m staying in my dorm.

I love you, kisses Fred x

She didn’t really know what to think. She was so disappointed, again.

But she could’t blame her boyfriend for feeling sick. Although she had her doubts, what if this wasn’t true, maybe he lied because he did forget it?

No, no, she had to trust him. Fred wouldn’t lie to her. So she grabbed the portkey and went to visit her parents.

Alone.

-

When she traveled back to Hogwarts it was late already, past midnight. Y/n hoped Umbridge wouldn’t catch her.

The corridors were empty, completely silent. This was not unusual. Most of the students were already asleep this late on a Sunday.

Unexpectedly, she heard gigles and laughs coming from around the corner. Did it come from the library? It couldn’t be. Not at almost 1 am.

She went closer to listen. Y/n placed her ear on the door. Was it... Was it...? No. No.

Did she hear Fred’s voice?

She really hoped she was just imagining this. Maybe she should trust Fred more.

But just checking won’t hurt right?

So she tried to open the door. It was locked.

“Alohamora” she whispered.

What she saw broke her heart into a million pieces.

Angelina sat on a table, with Fred extremely close to her, giggling. George and Lee were there too.

She couldn’t believe her own eyes. Looking silently in Fred’s shocked ones.

“Fuck” he sighed. “Y/n-“ he tried.

But she cut him off before he could say anything. “No, I don’t wanna hear another silly explanation from you, it’s enough, I don’t want to see you ever again” she screamed with tears in her eyes, making her vision blurry.

Y/n ran away, faster than ever so Fred couldn’t catch up this time.

“Stop!! Stop!” she heard him scream behind her.

She ran and ran, not even knowing were to.

“Let me explain” another scream followed.

That’s when she ended up in a corridor she didn’t know. A dead end. Ofcourse.

She gave up and stopped. Fred ended in front of her, breathing loudly, trying to catch his breath.

“Baby I-“ he tried

“Don’t call me baby, this is over” y/n cut him off.

Fred was speachless, for the first time in history. He didn’t realise this truly happened. He knew what he did wasn’t okay, but he never expected her to actually broke up with him. It just didn’t occur in his mind this was a possibility.

“But.. but...” he stuttered. “I swear, I can explain, what you’ve just seen, it wasn’t what you think it is. I’ve told you about the shoppe George and I want to open, right? It’s actually going to happen. We’re leaving hogwarts. That’s what we were doing, we were planning things. Tomorrow we’re going to blow up Umbridge, no not literally blow up, but with lots of firework! And then we’re going to open the shoppe together. It’s my dream y/n!” he rambled excited.

Y/n sighed. Understanding why he did this, but it didn’t change a thing.

“That actually makes things worse Fred. I’m happy your dream will come true. But you’re leaving and I’m finishing my year. When are you going to have time for me if you run a shop? You didn’t even have time for me now.” she cried.

Both of them were crying now. Knowing the break up was really going to happen. Fred wanted to keep fighting. But he knew she might be right.

A little sob left his mouth, something he never did before. She was right. He truly loved her but he couldn’t give her the happy future she deserved. He wasn’t right for her, he didn’t treat her the way she should’ve been treated. And the idea broke him. And that’s when she walked away.

They didn’t see each other again afterwards.

The next day, y/n laid in her bed when she heard fireworks, knowing what happened. She couldn’t go outside and watch...

Happy screams and laughs filled the castle. And that’s when she realised Fred and George were gone now. It was reality now. They won’t come back. Although a little part of her hoped they would stay. A little part of her thought Fred would come to her, begging her to stay with him. But she guessed he just didn’t love her enough.

After all the times Fred broke her heart, she was kind off used to it. But those heartbreaks couldn’t ever overcome this one.

August - 1996 - Diagon Alley

The summer was almost over, y/n graduated two months ago. The heartbreak still hurted but she was better now. She still didn’t know what to do now that she’s graduated.

Hermione decided you two had to go shopping. “It’ll make you happier” she stated like it was an actual fact. Y/n couldn’t say no of course.

Y/n’s breath hitched. A big clone of Fred’s face right in front of her (or George). This had to be their joke shoppe. God, it was more impressive than she expected. Guess you should never underestimate the twins.

“Let’s go inside y/n!” Hermione announced excited, grabbing her arm trying to puch her inside.

“Oh no no no no no, I don’t think that’s a great idea” she hesitated.

“Don’t worry, it’s so busy, Fred won’t see you” she promised her. Y/n sighed. She really didn’t want to go inside. She’d love to see the shoppe, but seeing Fred...

Whatever, it was true. It was so busy so Fred won’t ever notice her.

They entered, y/n was surprised, it was wonderful. Fred and George must have worked so hard to get to this point. God, she loved the place.

It brought back memories. All those joke products, most of them were used on her, she remembered. Fred thought it was hilarious to prank her literally all the time, being proud because it was something he invented himself. She couldn’t be mad about it, it made him so happy.

The place even smelled like him.

Y/n took a deep breath trying to gather all of the smell, in hope it would stay in her nose, so she could remember it back home.

She closed her eyes and imagined how it could be, if they didn’t broke up. How she would probably come here everyday to say hi, how she would watch Fred all day doing his job.

And then... she saw him. In his uniform, he stood there proudly on the stairs above her. Smiling happily, seeing all those laughing people because if his work.

He was happy. Fred missed y/n but he was happy. He thought a lot of all the things he did wrong. Although he didn’t really have time to worry.

Y/n sighed, it’s been months. Her heart was glowing inside her chest. She didn’t even feel sad any more. This was what her boyfriend always dreamt of. Her ex-boyfriend.

She turned around deciding it was not smart to look at the beautiful boy, the boy who still made her knees go weak.

Fred’s smell was more vibrant than before now. Almost like he was right in front of me.

Ow, love potions, of course.

Of course she still smelled Fred in it.

“I smell honey, flowers and vanilla soap” she heard a familiar voice whispering in her ear, almost making her jump.

“F-fred, hey” she stuttered, in shock by the fact he’s standing right in front of her.

“You look great, changed your hair” he smiled. It was true, y/n cut her hair a little shorter and decided to give it a lighter colour for the summer. The typical breakup haircut.

“Fred do you want to... talk... please?” she asked, knowing it wasn’t a great idea. She wanted to just run away after she realized what she said.

“We could go upstairs, talk in my appartment”

October- 1996 - Diagon Alley

“Come on darling, George opened up already!” Fred screamed running through his kitchen while jumping, trying to get his pants on. He grabbed an apple as breakfast.

Y/n ran to the kitchen too. “I thought you changed the being late thing” y/n joked, yes they joked about it now.

“You were the one holding me up this time” he smiled adding a wink. “You just can’t resist me in the bedroom” y/n answered daring.

She grabbed him by his collar, pressing a kiss on his lips. “I have no choice with the sexiest girlfriend in the word” Fred grinned, pressing kisses all over your face, making you giggle.

“Baby, you’re wearing your uniform backwards” he laughed.

Y/n worked at the shoppe now too.

When she asked Fred to talk, they actually talked for hours. They talked about what went wrong in their relationship, about what they had been doing in those months they broke up, talked about how they still had feelings,...

And after two hours they made up. Both being happier than ever, deciding they learned from their break up.

Fred asked her to come live in his apartment and work in their shop too. Y/n didn’t hesitate for a moment. She designed their boxes or packages and talked to costumers. But most of all she distracted Fred by rolling her uniforme skirt up and bowing down to ‘grab’ something. Sometimes he took her back to the appartment because he couldn’t hold back anymore.

Y/n now knew, the breakup was necessary. You both learned. And now you’re happier than ever.

Because after all, Fred was your future.

The voices have blurred into a senseless mess; Fred can only just make out the deep timbre of adult males and the high pitched shouts of students. He doesn’t need to hear the words to know that spells are being thrown left, right, and centre.

He does his fair share of fighting; hurling jinx after jinx at any Death Eater he comes upon.

The corridor he runs down is moaning and groaning as if ready to collapse, but Fred continues, his breath coming in pants. His eyes run over the bodies of students and teachers; his heart beginning the painful mourning process then and there.

Someone shouts; he doesn’t know who.

Something creaks; he doesn’t know what.

A brilliant flash of light bounces in front of his eyes, and he feels himself blown away just as the wall beside him starts to collapse.

Whether from shock or from injury, his vision fades to black.

Fred wakes with a start; heart racing, mouth gaping wide in a silent scream, hands gripping the bedsheets in a vice-tight hold.

With his eyes closed, he takes a deep breath before he begins to go through his exercise. An exercise he repeats nightly.

Aloud he says their names like a mantra: “Mum, Dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron, Ginny.”

He does this over and over again until his heart rate calms, and his hands can release the bedsheets.

Fred checks the clock; 3am. He nods, sighing. Three hours sleep.

Fred supposes he should be thankful. After all, it’s three hours more than he got the night before.

He leaves his bed, dragging his feet to the kitchen where with a flick of his wand, the kettle begins to boil, and teabag drops itself into his favourite mug – his only mug.

The Second Wizard War had been over for almost a year now, and for the most part, life had returned to normal. Routines were picked back up and time had simply started to move on.

But Fred felt stuck.

He couldn’t shake the nightmares; keeping the house up with his screams. He couldn’t face opening the shop up despite George’s best attempts at pleading.

He didn’t have it in him to laugh.

He felt broken; as if something vital within him snapped in two the day he avoided the winged clutches of death.

Settling on the couch with his now steeping mug of tea, Fred resigns himself to the fact that he won’t be getting anymore sleep tonight.

The TV plays lowly in the background, a rerun of an old British sitcom set in a prison playing. Fred pays it little to no attention; instead, looking around the small flat he’s called home for the last eight months of his life. The walls are sparsely decorated; a few photos hung up but nothing that screams his personality. His cupboards remain filled just enough for one person, as does his fridge. It’s a flat fit for a hermit; Fred thinks that’s what he’s become.

He decided to leave home two months after the end of the war. When he started to notice the dark circles underneath his mother’s eyes and realised that he was the cause of them – his nightmares and his screams.

Molly cried when he left; worried sick over how he would look after himself and cope. Fred reassured her and made a promise to send letters twice a week – a promise he has yet to break.

George was understandably angry with his twin’s decision, but he knew that deep down that Fred needed to go to heal so he can laugh in the shop once again.

With a tight hug from his parents and siblings alike, Fred began his new life in muggle society.

A frantic knock at his door has Fred spilling his tea and falling out of his reminiscing. Jumping up from the couch, his hand grabs his wand, ready to defend himself should he need to.

His breath comes in quick pants as a result of the adrenaline and panic coursing through his system. The only people who know where he lives are his family with the added bonus of Harry, Hermione and Lee Jordan; no-one else had his address.

The frantic knocking continues; becoming quicker if it was at all possible. Fred swallows past the lump in his throat as he unlocks his door, wrenching it open in a swift movement, ready to confront whatever was on the other side.

Fred wasn’t prepared for it to be you.

You stand in front of his flat with a wild look on your face; equal parts terror and panic. Your hand is still raised in a fist, ready to rain down on the faded red of his door. You only just stop yourself from pounding your fist into his chest.

“Can I help you?” Fred greets.

“I’m so sorry, I know how late it is, but I need your help.”

Fred raises an eyebrow, “What with?”

You toe his welcome mat sheepishly, pointing towards your flat next door to his. “There’s a massive spider in my bathroom and I’m too scared to kill it myself.”

“You’re knocking down my door at this time in the morning for a spider?” Fred asks incredulously.

You glare at him, “This isn’t just any spider, okay? It’s massive; I can practically see its kneecaps!” You huff, placing your hands on your hips, “Will you please help me?”

Fred leans against the doorframe, a smirk gracing his lips, “What’s in it for me?”

You purse your lips; eyes glancing between the red-headed man vexing you and the door to your flat where you know the spider is waiting to make a mockery of you. You sigh, deciding the former is the lesser evil than the latter, “I’ll buy you breakfast.”

“You’ll buy me breakfast for killing a spider?”

You nod rapidly, “Yes, I’ll buy you breakfast, and I’ll even fork out extra for hash browns, just please kill the spider.”

Fred pauses; pretending to think it over in order to annoy you that little bit more. It had been a while since he had taken the time to vex someone; he had to admit he was rather enjoying getting on your nerves.

“Well?” You press, tapping your foot on his welcome mat, “Will you help me or not?”

Fred pushes himself off the doorframe, keeping his wand concealed in his shirt sleeve. He bows at the waist with a cocky smile on his lips, “Lead the way, my lady.”

You roll your eyes at the man; not remembering a time when a man had gotten on your nerves to this extent. You lead him into your flat; his eyes wandering over the heavily decorated walls and the over-filled bookshelves. You pause outside the door to your bathroom, biting your lip as you face the red-haired man, “I last saw it in the sink. It could have moved now.”

Fred nods, “Don’t worry, I’ll find it. Do you have a boot or something I could use?”

You turn away from him, heading back to the entryway where he saw piles upon piles of shoes. “I don’t have a boot,” you start, “but I do have a pair of trainers.”

“They’ll work,” Fred reassures, taking them from your hands.

You throw him a thumbs-up before retreating a few paces into your living room. You haul yourself onto the couch, much to Fred’s amusement, as if the spider is going to come running out of the bathroom to exact its revenge on you for throwing your pot of face cream at it before you sprinted out of your flat.

“Good luck,” You state as Fred opens the door to your bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Fred runs his eyes around your bathroom, looking for the eight-legged arachnid that’s caused this much trouble at this time in the morning. He finds it in no time; still stuck in your sink, unable to make its way up the smooth porcelain sides.

It doesn’t take Fred long to dispose of the spider; trapping it with a spell and flinging it out of the window. For extra measure, and to not alert you to his magic, he slams the trainer down on the tiled floor of your bathroom. Fred even goes so far as to scrunch up some tissue in his hand to make it look as if he had gotten the spider.

If he can avoid it, Fred won’t kill another living creature. In the short span of his life, Fred had seen too much death, and he knows he doesn’t want to be witness to anymore.

Upon opening the door, Fred finds you stood in the exact same place but with a rolled up magazine in your hand. He wants to laugh at the sight, but he can’t dredge up the will to do so. Instead, he holds up the scrunched up tissue and your trainer, declaring, “It’s gone. I got rid of it.”

You jump down from the couch, pottering over to him. The rolled up magazine still in your hand, “It’s in there?”

Fred nods, a little white lie won’t hurt you and he doubts the spider would return. “Do you have somewhere I can put this?” he asks, waving the tissue around.

“Of course, the kitchen is over here.” You lead him to the small kitchenette where he disposes of the empty tissue. You take your trainer off him and Fred claps his hands together as if he’s completed a job well done.

“Right,” He starts, “If you don’t need me for anything else…”

Your eyes widen as if suddenly aware what time it is and how long you’ve kept him, “Of course!” you cry, “I didn’t realise the time, you’ll want to be getting back to sleep. Thank you for all your help…” you trail off, realising you don’t know his name.

“Fred. My name is Fred.”

“Fred,” You smile, “I’m (Y/N).”

“I’m glad I could help, (Y/N),” Fred says, making his way to your door, “I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast.”

You frown, “Breakfast?”

“You owe me? For killing the spider, remember?”

You hold your hand to your forehead, “Yes! I remember. How does meeting at half past nine sound? I want to get some sleep before I meet you again.”

“Half nine it is. I’ll see you then.” Fred says as goodbye, shutting your front door behind him and making his way back to the couch that had been calling his name since he left it.

The TV has moved on now; showing another rerun of an old sitcom – this one about two brothers hustling their way through life in a borough of London. Fred rather likes this show, having gotten hooked his first month in muggle life. He turns the volume up, taking a sip of his now cold tea.

Fred tries to pay attention to scene currently playing; the brother’s elderly uncle unscrewing the fastenings to a very expensive chandelier they’ve been hired to clean. Little do they know they’ve got their wires crossed and disaster is about to strike.

Fred pays little attention to this, but rather than return to the wallowing he found himself in earlier, he lets himself think of breakfast tomorrow.

His eyes begin to flutter shut; the lack of sleep finally catching up to him. He slumps down onto the couch, reaching for the blanket he keeps draped across the back of it for this very reason, and he throws it across himself. He takes one last look at the television to see that the brothers had been underneath the wrong chandelier their elderly uncle was loosening, and he falls asleep with the thought of breakfast running through his mind.

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

Fred is ready too early; he knows he is.

He also thinks he’s overdressed but he doesn’t let himself think too much into that issue.

Another nightmare had awoken him an hour after he fell back asleep in front of the TV. Fred wasn’t too resigned though; four hours sleep in one night was the most he had gotten in a while. He was going to count this as a win.

For a while, he remained on the couch, flicking through the channels hoping to find something other than telly shopping. He skipped over the news channels, not needing to hear anything about muggle society that could potentially send him further into his spiral. He ran a hand over his face as he turned off the TV; he had moved away from home to start getting better; to start the healing process yet he felt as if he was only making things worse.

Before he could let himself dwell further on that subject, he hauled himself into the shower. Taking extra time to scrub at his hair and body; making himself look presentable for breakfast with you.

Fred took extra care in picking out his clothes. Once dressed, he did feel overdressed for the occasion, but as he sits on the couch, watching the hands on his analogue clock tick by slowly, he’s more bothered by the fact that he’s ready over an hour early.

He sighs as he watches the second hand make another circuit around the clock; one less minute to go, he thinks wryly to himself.

If his mother could see him now, Molly Weasley would proceed to smack him with a tea-towel before offering her advice on the matter. Thoughts of his mother has Fred overwhelmed with a strong sense of missing her. He misses his mother more than he misses anyone; how she would always have food on the table and tea ready to drink, how she would push back his hair from his forehead so she could kiss him there. She would do that a lot when the nightmares were very bad; she would sit with him on the couch where he had exiled himself after waking George up too many times – she would run her hands through his hair in a comforting manner, kissing his forehead as his eyes would start to droop. Molly would only let herself rest once her beloved son was sleeping somewhat peacefully.

Fred thinks of this memory as he digs around his flat for some spare parchment and a self-inking quill. He had already sent his two letters for the week, but Molly would be delighted to receive a third unexpectedly.

Quill scratches on parchment for some time. Fred inquires after the wellness of his siblings – did Charlie pull his finger out and ask out Evie? How was Ron and Hermione? How was Dad? Would he like any more of the muggle sweets he’s become so fond of?

Fred asks the inane questions before asking about George. Fred knows that George loves him; they’re twins, they’re closer than any other sibling would hope to be. George knew Fred’s moods like the back of his hand and he only wants the best for his brother. Which is why Fred struggles with the guilt at leaving George to cope with the joke shop alone. George has reassured him that it’s okay, that he needs to take time and the shop will always be here when he’s ready to come back.

But it still doesn’t lessen the guilt that sits in his stomach like a lead balloon.

Black ink covers his hand by the he’s finished his letter; finishing his letter with the news of breakfast with someone he could see being a good friend. That would be enough to quash his mother’s worries that he doesn’t leave his flat enough. He seals the envelope with wax, making a mental note to go to a wizarding post office after breakfast so he can send it off in express time to his mother.

Cracking his knuckles – a nasty habit he picked up at Hogwarts – Fred checks the time to see that it’s almost half past nine. He slips on his denim jacket, tucking his letter into an inside pocket, patting it to reassure himself it’s there.

As he’s locking up the door, he sees you exiting your flat. Fred realises that when you aren’t dressed in mismatched pyjamas with a terrified look on your face, you’re rather beautiful.

You hurry over to him; your bag bouncing against your hip as you come to a stop in front of him. “Good Morning,” you greet.

“Good Morning. How did you sleep? Any more spiders?”

You direct your gaze to the floor, feeling somewhat sheepish in the light of day, “I know I said it last night, but thank you again. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if you hadn’t have got it.”

Fred smiles softly, “I didn’t mind. Besides, I get breakfast out of it.”

You perk up, “That you do! Off we go then.”

You lead him out of the building, continuing on the main road before turning left and then a right. Fred follows you all the way; making small attempts at idle conversation which you gladly take up, chatting to him about anything and everything as you lead him down a side street to where a small café sits.

The bell above the door chimes happily as you enter the building, holding the door open for Fred to duck in first.

You lead him to a table by the window that’s big enough for two. He pulls out your chair for you, letting you sit first before shrugging off his jacket and hanging it over the back of his chair. Fred may have been a little shit through his childhood and adolescence, but he had listened to his mother when she explained the etiquette for dining with a lady whether it be breakfast, lunch or dinner.

Menus are handed to the both of you by a waitress who looks to be wanting to be anywhere but here right now. Fred sympathises with her a little; remembering the early starts for the shop. They order their food in no time; you ordering a latte and Fred ordering a Yorkshire Tea to go with your Full English’s with extra hash browns.

You grin at him from across the table, “Thanks for agreeing to this.”

“Thanks for offering.”

“Did you get back to sleep okay after I woke you up?” You asks, face lined with worry.

Fred nods, clearing his throat, “I nodded back off, yeah.”

You sigh with relief, “That’s good, I’m glad.”

“Did you sleep okay?”

“I slept very well in my spider-free flat, yes.”

You fall silent as your drinks are placed in front of you with a promise that your food would be with you shortly. Fred smiles at the waitress in thanks as she leaves.

He turns his attention back to you, “How long have you lived in the building? I’m sure I would have seen you before.”

You wave a hand nonchalantly, “Not very long, I moved in a couple of months ago. How long have you lived there?”

Fred sips at his tea, adding a dash of sugar and milk before answering, “Around eight months now.”

You nod at his answer, taking a drink of your latte. The caffeine was needed; the adrenaline from the spider incident had taken a while to leave your body, leaving you tossing and turning in your bed and providing you more opportunity to think about the red-headed neighbour you had just met.

“I’m going to propose an idea.”

“Oh?”

“I say we play twenty-one questions and get to know each other.”

“Get to know each other?”

You blink at him, “Yes. We’re neighbours and we’re having breakfast. What else should we talk about? The weather?”

Fred glances out the window at your words, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Well the weather is particularly lovely for London.”

You hush him, “That’s not very neighbourly of you.”

“Perhaps I’m not very neighbourly,” Fred taunts.

You gasp dramatically, “I refuse to believe that. If you weren’t neighbourly, you would have shut the door in my face last night.”

Fred raises an eyebrow, “Would you have started to knock again if I did?”

You purse your lips, repressing a smile, “Maybe.”

“Then I simply helped to lessen the noise.”

You scoff, “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“You don’t have to.”

You glare at him, “Fred, stop being an arsehole and let me get to know you.”

Fred barks out a laugh, covering his mouth at the volume of the noise, “Well, when you put it like that. What do you want to know?”

You beam at him, and Fred can’t help but smile back. “How old are you?” you ask.

“I’m 22.”

“Are you at university?”

Fred shakes his head, “I thought I was supposed to ask the next question.”

You level him with a look, “Answer this one and then you can ask the next one.”

“Alright, but you can’t go jumping in with another question before I’ve asked mine. No, I’m not at university,” You open your mouth to interrupt but close it when you remember Fred’s words. He smiles at you, “How old are you?”

“You can’t repeat questions!”

“Why not?” Fred asks, affronted, “It’s only fair I know your age too!”

“Fine,” you mutter, “I’m 22 as well. 23 in a month.”

Fred nods, waiting patiently for your next question. You open your mouth, the words ready on the tip of your tongue but the waitress returns with your breakfast. The very smell of it has Fred’s stomach rumbling; he hadn’t a cooked breakfast like this since he left the Burrow. He digs in with renewed vigour; repressing a moan at the taste of the fried bread.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

Fred nods, unable to reply due to the mouthful of food he’s chewing.

You nod in understanding, swallowing your mouthful before saying, “I found this place in my final year of university; I needed somewhere that reminded me of my mum’s breakfasts. Her breakfasts will always be number one, but this comes pretty close.”

Fred pauses with a forkful of scrambled egg halfway to his mouth, “That’s what I miss most about home – my mum and her cooking.”

“Are you not from London originally?” You asks around a mouthful of bacon.

Fred shakes his head, “Devon originally. A tiny village in the county; it’s more of a hamlet really.”

Your eyes widen; eyebrows flying into your hairline, “Devon? That’s a while away. How often do you get to see your family?”

“Not as often as I’d like.” Fred says, drinking his tea.

For a moment, it’s silent between the two of you. The scraping of cutlery on plates being the only sound. Fred thinks of his family as he eats his breakfast; wondering what their plans are for the day – whether they’d be gnome hunting or playing quidditch or simply helping Molly with her vegetable garden. His heart hurts as he thinks of them; overcome with the absence of them from his life. It makes him shiver as he reaches for another drink of tea.

Fred breaks the comfortable silence, “What about you? Where are you from originally?”

“Lancashire originally but I moved to the south when I was young – it’s why my accent is so odd.”

Fred frown; he hadn’t noticed anything odd about your accent, thinking the way that you pronounced your vowels was similar to the way young Neville Longbottom does his, but yours are cut shorter.

“Tell me,” He starts, “Do you see your family as often as you’d like?”

“You’re going to repeat my every question, aren’t you?”

Fred grins, “Maybe… Maybe not. You’ll have to stick around to find out. Now, do you see your family as often as you’d like?”

You shake your head, “Not really. My parents like to travel a lot; a cruise here, a two week holiday there, a road trip across America through the summer. I don’t blame them though; they worked hard for the time they have now. I just wish they’d drop in more.”

“Are you rich?” Fred asks before he can stop himself. He cringes as the words leave his mouth.

You chuckle at the awkward expression on his face, “I’m not. My parents are. I’m a humble student working towards their master’s degree. My father created his company in printing greeting cards; he sold it off a few years back for a lot of money and they’ve been enjoying themselves since.”

“You’re a master’s student?” Fred asks; his knowledge on muggle degrees somewhat limited to what Hermione had told him.

You nod, scraping up the last forkful of food on your plate. “Yeah, I’m getting my master’s in Library Science.”

“What do you hope to do after that?”

“Work in a library or well, continue to work in a library, I already work at my university one. I’d love to work in an archives one day though, cataloguing pieces of history.”

Fred nods, enraptured by your words. He didn’t realise how much choice there was for muggles and their education. The wizarding world was somewhat limited to how witches and wizards could harness their talents; Fred and George were practically pariahs for choosing to dedicate their lives to pranks and happiness. He had always assumed the muggle world worked in the same way, but here you were, proving him wrong.

Knives and forks are crossed on plates when you ask, “You aren’t a university student, so you must have a job. What do you do for a living, Fred?”

Fred decides a kernel of truth wouldn’t do too much harm, “I own a joke shop with my twin brother.”

You laugh, clapping your hands together, “That’s incredible! Is the shop here in London?”

Fred nods, “It is. My twin brother is running it for the time being.”

“Can we go see it?”

Fred freezes; he hadn’t anticipated this. He glances down at the watch wrapped around his wrist then back up at you, not missing the glint of mischief in your eyes. “Perhaps another time?” he suggest, “I have some errands I need to run today that I can’t avoid.”

You lean back in your chair, feeling somewhat sad but you shake it off. “Of course, but I’ll hold you to that Fred. I won’t rest until I see your shop.”

Fred grins, “I have a feeling you’ll stick to your word.”

You move to reply but are interrupted by the waitress coming by to collect your plates and ask if you want anything else. She leaves the bill behind when her question is declined. Fred reaches for his wallet, but you stop him by snatching the bill.

“I made you a promise last night. Breakfast for your excellent services.”

Fred rubs a hand across the back of his neck, “I feel bad letting you pay.”

“Aren’t you a gentleman?” You tease, “No, I said I would buy you breakfast so I’m buying you breakfast. You can buy it next time.”

“So there’s going to be a next time?”

You shrug, biting your lip. “Sure – you might need my services for something. A blocked pipe or a blow fuse.”

Fred stands, pulling on his denim jacket, patting his inside pocket to find that his letter is still there.

You walk back to the main road together; waving goodbye to him as you head towards your university and he to a side street where he can apparate to the nearest wizarding post office. Fred hands his letter over to the clerk, paying a few extra knuts for express delivery.

Fred takes his time walking back to his flat; enjoying the spring day that was blooming around him. He felt lighter as he walked; as if he didn’t need to put as much effort into putting one foot in front of the other. He put it down to you and your presence; there was something about you that evoked all sorts of emotions from him. There was something about you that made him want to see you again.

However, he knew by tonight, the familiar fog will have settled over him – dulling the light of everything around him. He knew that he would still struggle to sleep; being lucky enough to get even an hour in before being pulled to consciousness kicking and screaming his way out of the same nightmare.

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

His time over the next month is split three ways. He spends a third of it on his couch; watching old reruns of sitcoms – his new favourite being set in second muggle war and follows the Home Guard; Fred finds himself whistling the theme song more often than he’d like to admit. He uses his time on the couch to write his letters to Molly who was thrilled at the aspect of Fred making a friend; she wrote question after question about wanting to know their star sign to their hair colour. Fred smiles fondly; a smile reserved only for his mother – one that got even bigger when a second owl arrived with a small note with another question. Through all of her excited questioning, Molly forgot one crucial detail – what was their name?

He spends the second third of his time running. Fred had always been sporty; had always had an athletic build that helped him gain his spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a Beater with George on the team too. However, there are few places in muggle London where he can play the sport freely, so he gets it into his head to pretend to train for a match. Fred begins to run; every morning and every evening. Two runs a day, seven days a week. The runs on an evening tire out his body so he has more of a chance of falling into bed with the hopeless prayer of a dreamless sleep uttered from his lips. However, the runs on a morning are more frantic as he runs off the excess adrenaline and panic running through his system as a result of the night terror his mind unleashed upon him, dragging him from sleep less than two hours after his eyes closed.

Then Fred spends the final third of his time with you. In your flat or walking around Hyde Park or visiting your university.

Fred finds himself spending more and more time with you; he starts to crave your company. And he feels ridiculous for feeling that way because he’s only known you for over a month and he should be using this time to start the healing process.

But he’s already told his mother about you; and who isn’t to say that he can’t work on healing from the trauma of the war with you by his side being a warm, comforting presence?

Fred sits on his couch at nearing two in the morning; questioning his entire existence and reasoning for moving to muggle society when he realises that whilst it’s only been just over a month, if he wants to start healing with you by his side, he needs to be entirely honest with you.

He needs to confess.

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

Fred inhales a deep breath before knocking on your door. He shuffles from side to side, nerves rioting in his stomach. In less than a minute, you’ve wrenched open your door, smiling widely as you take in Fred standing before you.

“Freddie! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He holds his hands behind his back as he rocks back onto his heels, “Do you want to go on a walk?”

Your eyes run over his face; taking in the dark circles underneath his eyes. He had told you about his insomnia soon after the friendship began; it worried you, but Fred had reassured you that he had it controlled. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

Fred nods, “That, and I really need to talk to you.”

“No problem. Let me just get my shoes on.”

Fred smiles as he watches you toe on the slip on trainers he had come to know as Vans. You told him just last week about your obsession with them; unable to resist buying a new pair each time you passed the shop.

You grab your jacket from the hook, pulling it on as you lock the door behind you, bumping into Fred as you step out into the hallway.

Fred leads you out of the building, turning the usual left that heads in the direction of the park. You struggle to keep up with his long strides; calling out for him to slow down a little so you can at least walk side by side. He smiles at you as you catch up to him; apologising for his speed, he is just anxious.

The walk to the park is walked in silence. Fred’s mind occupied with how he’s going to tell you the most important thing about himself and how you’re going to react when you find out that a lot of your friendship was built on a lie.

The park settles on the horizon too soon and his heart is in his mouth. Fred used to be a confident guy; happily getting involved in scheme after scheme that would bring chaos and laughter to the corridors of Hogwarts, but he had lost that part of him in the battle. He wondered if he would ever be that guy again.

You bump his shoulder, “We’re at the park, what did you want to talk about?”

Fred settles on a nearby bench; fiddling with his fingers, “I need to tell you something  but I’m not sure how to say it.”

“That’s fine. Why don’t you tell me why we’re in the park?”

Fred sighs, “It’s so you have the freedom and the choice to leave after I tell you what I’ve been keeping from you.”

Your heart starts to pound in your chest; panic rising slowly in your gut. “What have you been keeping from me that’s so bad that I would need to walk away from you?”

Fred turns in his spot, staring into your eyes, “Do you promise to hear me out and not interrupt?”

“Fred, you’re worrying me. What’s the matter?”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise! Now what’s wrong?”

“I’ve been lying to you… about so much.”

The air is knocked out of you, “I’m going to need more than that, Fred,” you whisper breathlessly.

“Do you remember when we first had breakfast? And I told you about the joke shop I own with my twin?”

“Yes… so what did you lie about? The joke shop or the twin?”

“Neither. I just lied about why you couldn’t see it.”

“Why?” You ask; your tone incredulous.

“Because I’m a wizard, and the joke shop I own with my twin – who is also a wizard – is a magical joke shops selling pranks and potions to witches and wizards attending Hogwarts.”

You stand from the bench, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself, wondering when the TV cameras are going to show up, “That isn’t funny, Fred.”

“I’m not joking, (Y/N). I’m not lying to you now.”

“How do I know? What’s Hogwarts? Who is your twin? What’s the name of your shop? Why aren’t you there?”

Fred had prepared himself for the barrage of questions he knew would inevitably fall from your mouth; curiosity being your besetting sin. He hadn’t prepared himself for the look of betrayal and hurt that crosses over face as you continue to stare at him. Fred feels his already broken heart break some more at the sight of it.

He runs a hand over his face, “(Y/N), love, please sit down. I’ll tell you everything.”

“Everything?” You question, “I want to know it all.”

Fred crosses over his heart, “I promise. Now please sit down.”

You sit next to him; a few inches away as if the small distance will help to protect the heart that you had already started to give to the broken red-headed man.

You remain silent as Fred sorts out his words; you can see the cogs in his mind working as he figures out how to explain an entire society that you hadn’t known existed until less than a minute ago.

Finally he releases a breath and begins.

“Witches and wizards have always been around, but after famous witch hunts such as Salem, Pendle, and Samlesbury, we had to go into hiding to protect our numbers. From the age of eleven, we go to Hogwarts. Hogwarts is a school in the highlands of Scotland dedicated to teaching young witches and wizards the art of magic as well as how to control it. My twin is called George; we’re identical and sometimes, our own mother struggles to tell us apart,” Fred breaks off with a short laugh, thinking of Molly with fondness.

“He’s my rock, he’s my best friend. We bought the joke shop when we were eighteen – it’s called Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes and it’s found in Diagon Alley. For your sake, it’s found near Charing Cross Road.”

Fred pauses once again, readying himself to explain his absence from the shop and his presence in your life. “I’m not there because I moved away. In our society, there was a dark wizard who started a war for purposes beyond me. I just know that when I was 21 I was running through the corridors of the school I used to attend fighting for my life and watching people I knew die. I almost died myself when a wall was blown apart; luckily, someone spelled me out of the way. I’ll be forever grateful to them for that.

“After the war, I couldn’t cope. I was doing more harm than good by being with my family – my insomnia stems from nightmares of the war so I left. I left them and moved here where I’ve started to heal from my experiences and where I met you after you started to bang on my door. I wanted to tell you sooner; my mother told me to in her letters, but I was enjoying my time with you, and I didn’t want to ruin what we have. It means a lot to me.”

Fred falls silent with a smile aimed at you. Your mouth hangs open from his words; unsure on whether to take them for the truth they sounded like or to question him to find the holes in his story.

But he looks so vulnerable; the smile is watery, and his eyes are lined with tears. You realise that it’s taken a lot for him to confess this to you, but that it had been weighing on his mind for some time.

You don’t say anything immediately. Instead, you draw his head to your shoulder, and he lets out the sob he’s been holding in since he started to talk about his past. You wrap your arms around him tightly; holding him together as he lets himself fall to pieces in your arms. You’re in public, and this is a scene but the both of you don’t care. You hold him to you until his sobs begin to quieten into sniffles.

“I’m sorry,” Fred murmurs, pulling away from you as he wipes his eyes.

“Never apologise for crying.”

He sniffles, “Do you believe me?”

You nod, “I do. I don’t think anyone could have made up what you just said. I don’t think there’s enough imagination in the world for it. But there’s one thing I want to know.”

Fred watches you warily, “What is it?”

You grip his hand tightly, “Are you healing, Fred? Are you coping?”

Fred’s shoulders slump as the tension leaves his body; he had tensed at your words, worried at what you might say. He stares into your eyes as he answers, “I am. I was struggling at first, but I think I’m starting to heal.”

“Can I help? How can I help?”

Fred pats your hand, “Continue doing what you’re doing, it’s enough.”

And it is. Fred finds it easier to breathe in your presence as if the weight of the world is no longer on his shoulders like he were Atlas. Instead, he finds it easier to focus on other things such as plans for the day or listening to you talk about your latest assignment. He doesn’t feel his mind drift off as much when he’s around you; which is a good thing, he thinks.

You smile at him, still holding onto his hand, “I can do that.”

You both fall into quiet; eyes now focused on the expanse of the park. Fred watches a young mother push her young son the swings, hearing his delighted laughter, whilst your eyes land on the teenage couple making out underneath a tree; you move your eyes away quickly, focusing instead, on the ducks swimming in the pond.

You break the silence, “Fred?”

He hums in answer.

“Would you cast a spell for me?” You ask tentatively, “If that’s okay!”

Fred smiles softly; letting go of your hand to reach for the dogwood wand he keeps hidden up his sleeve. With flare he hasn’t shown since opening the store, he pulls the wand out. He rolls the wand over his fingers, “Wizards can practice magic outside of school from the age of seventeen; I can show you a spell.”

“Really?” You ask, bouncing in your place.

“Are you ready?”

“Hold on, let me think for a minute… YES.” You shout, stamping your feet in the grass.

Fred grins; his eyes crinkling in the corners from the size of his smile. He checks for witnesses before holding his wand up whispering the incantation ‘Lumos’. The tip of his wand begins to glow with a pale light which in the falling darkness of the day only helps him see the beauty in your features.

You gasp at the sight of the light emanating from Fred’s wand, resisting the urge to reach out and touch it. “I can’t believe it,” you sigh, “All this time I asked you to change lightbulbs and you could create light with a single word.”

“You’re not scared or freaked out?” He asks, unable to stop himself. The small voice in the back of his head needed to know whether you were going to leave him.

You shake your head, still watching the pale white light. With a single whisper of ‘Nox’, Fred turns out the light and slides his wand back into his sleeve. You turn your attention back to Fred, “I’m not scared or freaked out. I’m just in awe of you and this entire society that’s survived in secret. I feel like I’m privy to a secret organisation.”

“You’re in awe of me?” Fred asks; those being the only words he focused on in your entire sentence after confirming you weren’t scared of him.

“Absolutely. You can conjure magic, Fred! Actual magic! It’s incredible,” Your hands frame his face, keeping his eyes on you as you lean close and whisper, “You are incredible.”

He covers your hands with his; wondering when he’d become so soft. “Thank you,” he replies.

You pull away too soon; Fred’s hands dropping to his side, feeling suddenly cold at the loss of contact.

Standing from the bench, you hold your hand out for Fred to take. “Come on, magic man. It’s time we went home.”

“Magic man?” He asks, amused. He takes your offered hand, pulling himself up from the park bench.

“It’s my new nickname for you, do you like?”

“Magic man… magic man,” Fred repeats, testing the name out on his tongue, “I suppose I do.”

“Good, because I don’t think I’ll call you anything else.”

The walk back to the flat is quicker than the walk to the park. Fred’s steps lighter now than they were earlier. Chased by the turning on of street lights, you reach your building and lead him into your flat, offering him a warm drink as he takes a seat on your cream coloured couch.

Fred takes the hot mug of tea from you as you sit down next to him. He takes a shy sip, careful not to burn his tongue. It’s perfect, as it always is. You always know the right amount of sugar and milk to add.

“Thank you for telling me that today, I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

“It wasn’t, but it got easier when you didn’t walk away. I was so worried that you were going to.”

“I don’t think I’d have forgiven myself if I had.”

Teas are drank after that, and Fred whispers goodnight to you before kissing your cheek in a rare moment of tenderness. He lets himself out of your flat, making the short walk back to his where he throws himself on the couch and lets himself wonder when exactly he had started to fall in love with you.

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

Two more months follow, and Fred knows that he’s now arse over tea kettle in love you. From the top of your head to the tips of your toes, that you like to shove under legs when laid on the couch together, so he yelps at their temperature.

Two more months follow, and Fred feels like he’s maybe able to start living his life again, but in small doses. He writes to his mother more who’s delighted by the tales he tells of you and your growing relationship; he could never keep anything from Molly – her face too trusting and her manner too warm. All Molly is concerned about in her letters is whether Fred is happy, and for the first time in over a year, Fred can reply saying he thinks he could be.

Molly won’t ever tell Fred this, but she cried at that letter, feeling her heart burst with happiness for the son she had always worried about.

Time passes, and Fred spends more and more time with you. Breakfast dates, lunch dates, movie marathons on the couch – he does it all with you. You even go so far as to make him decorate his flat more; pictures of his family now line the walls as well as the picture of him and George on the opening day of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

That’s when he knows he needs to go back to Diagon Alley, and he’s taking you with him.

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

At nine am on the dot, Fred knocks on your door until you open it. You glare at the red-headed man, demanding to know his presence at your door when he only left at four am after binging the entire Godfather trilogy without realising how long the films are.

Fred beams at your state, “Go get dressed, I’ll make you some coffee.”

“Why?” You ask, puzzled.

“I’m taking you to Diagon Alley and my joke shop.”

You stagger back a couple of steps, “Really? Are you sure? Are you ready?”

Fred’s grin moulds into something softer at your concern. “I am, and I want you to come with me.”

A slow smile breaks across your face, “Give me ten minutes and we can go!”

You rush into your room; pulling open the doors to your wardrobe and raking through to find any sort of clothes you’d wear to visit a magical shop, and possibly meet the twin brother of the man you’d fallen in love with.

Minutes later, you exit your room, pulling a brush through your hair to make yourself look more presentable. Gratefully, you take the cup of coffee from Fred’s hand before rushing into your bathroom to brush your teeth and spritz yourself in your favourite perfume – jasmine, lavender and citrus.

You drain the dregs of your coffee as you leave the bathroom. Dropping the pale pink mug in the sink, you turn to find Fred leaning against your kitchen counter with an amused and entertained look on his face.

“Someone’s excited, I see.” He teases.

You pout, “It’s not every day I get to go see magical London, magic man.”

Fred claps his hands, laughing quietly. “Come on then, let’s get you to Diagon Alley.”

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

Diagon Alley is nestled behind Charing Cross Road; it’s the largest area of wizarding London and is completely hidden from the muggle world.

Fred has been visiting Diagon Alley for as long as he can remember; flooing there with his mother and Bill, Charlie and Percy to collect their things for the latest school year. As a child, he loved visiting Florean Fortescue’s when the budget permitted it; getting a single scoop cone with rainbow sprinkles.

As he enters the Leaky Cauldron, leading you in by the hand, Fred is a mix of fear and excitement making him act jittery as he approaches the familiar face of Tom, the barman.

“Fred Weasley? Is that you?” Tom asks, a large smile on his face, “I haven’t seen you in over a year! How have you been?”

“I’ve been well, Tom. How have you been?”

“Never better – you know me.”

Fred smiles, nodding. “I’m heading out back, is that okay?”

“Anything for a Weasley. Does this have something to do with the muggle hiding behind your back?”

You reveal yourself from where you’ve hidden yourself behind Fred. Keeping a tight hold on his hand, you smile shyly at the barman, “I’m (Y/N). It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Tom smiles politely, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too.” Tom turns his attention back to Fred, “You know what to do.”

Fred parts ways with barman he had grown up knowing, pulling you to the back door which opens into a small courtyard.

“Fred, love, it’s a dead end.”

“Are you sure?” Fred asks with a smirk, reaching for his wand. “Want to see some proper magic?”

“Always, magic man.”

He grins at the use of your nickname for him before tapping his wand on the bricks blocking your way. You cry out as the bricks begin to move; shifting to the side to reveal an entryway to a cobbled street lined with shop after shop all varying in colours.

Letting go of Fred’s hand, you take your first step into the wizarding world; already in love with every aspect of it, just as you’re in love with every aspect of the man making his way to your side.

“What do you think?” He asks, breathless at the sight of the place he hasn’t seen in a year.

“This is unlike any other place I’ve seen.” You hold your hand out for Fred to grab, “Show me around?”

“With pleasure,” Fred replies, wrapping your hand in his, tangling your fingers.

Fred takes you on a tour of the Alley; stopping outside Ollivander’s and getting out his wand to explain the importance of the place, turning his wand around to show you what he means. He tells you the story of Harry Potter; of what his wand meant, being the twin of the wand that had killed his parents. Your heart breaks for the boy you had never met; had never even heard of until today – you ask after him, how is he now? Fred reassures you; after all, he’s fine, Harry’s dating his younger sister much to Fred’s chagrin.

He takes you into Florean Fortescue’s, buying you ice cream for breakfast as any adult should have. Your eyes widen at the taste of the Butterbeer ice cream; butterscotch and buttercream icing bursting on your tongue. Fred smiles at your expression, licking his way through his own ice cream – strawberries and cream for nostalgia’s sake.

Sitting down at a small table, you tap your ice creams to each other in a toast. “Where are we going next?” You ask, catching a drip of the melting ice cream with your tongue – not missing the way Fred’s eyes track the movement.

“I thought we could visit my shop.”

“Your shop?” You ask in disbelief, “Are you sure?”

Fred nods, catching a drip on his own ice cream. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes also track the movement of his mouth. “Yes, I’m sure.” He looks away, ashamed, “I’ve left George alone too long.”

You reach for his hand across the table, “I’m sure he understands, Fred.”

“I know he does, but it doesn’t stop the guilt.”

You rub your thumb across the back of his hand in a comforting motion, “Are you sure you’re okay to go? We can always come back another day.”

“You’d come back with me?”

You grin, “Of course, this is the best ice cream I’ve ever had. I’m here for you, magic man – who else is going to kill the spiders in my bathroom?”

Fred relaxes, “You’re the best, you know that right?”

You take another lick of your ice cream, “I do know that. Do you want to stay and see your brother, or do you want to go? I’m happy with either, but you’re going to have to give me time to get more ice cream.”

Fred laughs at your words, “It is good ice cream,” he takes a lick of his, “No, let’s go. I need to see him; I need to apologise.”

“Alright then. We’ll finish here and then we’ll go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes… at last.”

He nods, remaining silent. The ice creams are finished in silence; questioning looks sent to each other across the table. Your feelings for Fred often overwhelmed you with their strength; never imagining that knocking on his door in the early hours of the morning could ever lead to something like this. In the short time you had known the man, you had fallen head over heels for him and also had your entire worldview altered by finding out about the existence of magic.

He’d quite literally turned your world upside down, and the only thing that ran through your mind through it all was: I hope he feels the same.

Soon though, faces are wiped on napkins and hands are back to hold each other’s as Fred leads you from the ice cream parlour to where the orange top hat stands out against the darkly coloured shops.

In a last minute attempt to delay the inevitable, Fred pulls you over to the pet shop. You coo over the animals; pointing to the Puffskein with questions burning on your tongue. Fred answers them all happily, delighted to delay walking into the shop and brother he’s neglected for so long.

After a few more minutes, you step away from the shop window citing the temptation being too great and you may end up smuggling the Puffskeins to the muggle world.

“That was a fantastic distraction, magic man.”

“Wasn’t it?” He admits, blushing at having been caught out but not wanting to lie to you, “It worked like a treat.”

You chuckle, “It really did. They remind me of clouds do the Puffskeins; neon, furry clouds.”

Fred snorts, “An excellent description.”

The joke shop now looms in front of the two of you; the bright orange and purple of the paintwork almost luminous in the morning light. Fred stops in the middle of the pavement; feet stuck to the floor, unable to carry him forward. He’s avoided this for so long, but he finally feels ready to insert himself back into the life of pranks, jokes, and happiness.

Your grip on his hand tightens, “I’m here, magic man. I’m not going anywhere.”

His nod is the only sign you get to know that he’s heard your words.

Taking a deep breath, Fred begins to put one foot in front of the other; a hand outstretched for the door handle to the shop, giving it a light push. The bell above the door rings, signalling his entrance into the shop but also his entrance into his old life.

The shop is quiet; it being still too early in the day to get masses and masses of shoppers. Their busy season is the three weeks in August before terms starts where students come to buy their school books but to also stock up on items of mischief.

A near identical man to Fred stands up straighter from his position behind the counter. He starts to open his mouth, to welcome the new customers to the shop but when he looks up, the words never leave his mouth.

He simply freezes in place.

His eyes flicker between the two of you quickly, before running over the man stood next to you. Looking for what, you don’t know.

In between one blink of an eye and the next, he’s thrown himself across the counter, sprinting to where Fred stands in the entryway.

No words are spoken; he just holds Fred’s face in his hands before pulling him in for a hug that’s been long overdue.

You step away from their reunion, letting your eyes roam over the shop. They need this moment alone; you don’t need to invade by watching them. You wander a little; fingers running over displays. You frown when you see you an area lit up in pink titled ‘Love Potion’.

You pick up one of the little bottles shaped like a heart; the bright pink liquid inside jostling as you examine it.

“Careful,” A voice sounds behind you, “It’s a powerful potion.”

Turning you find Fred’s twin, George watching you with inquisitive eyes. “What does it do?” You ask, fiddling with the stopper.

“It mimics the effects of love and obsession. If you smell it, you smell the person you love.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Truly?”

George nods, “Truly. We sell crates full of the stuff nearing Valentine’s Day.”

Releasing the stopper from the neck of the bottle, you take a delicate sniff. Peonies, rain, and Yorkshire tea come filtering through. The very smells you’ve become to associate with the man who had never really been your neighbour but has always been something more.

Replacing the stopper, you drop the potion into George’s waiting hand. He pockets it before turning back to face his twin.

“What did you smell?” Fred asks as you settle back next to him.

You shrug, “Nothing I didn’t already know.”

George grins at the two of you, “Is this the famous (Y/N) from your letters to mum?”

You nudge Fred with your elbow, beaming, “You write to your mum about me, magic man?”

“Hold on – magic man?” George asks, eyes glancing at both Fred and you.

You nod, “It’s my nickname for him.”

George chuckles, “It’s brilliant. I may have to use it myself.”

Fred blushes at his brother’s use of your nickname for him. He doesn’t say it, but it doesn’t sound right coming from anyone else’s mouth but yours.

“Anyway, it’s nice to meet you, (Y/N). Mum already loves you. I’m George.” George introduces, holding a hand out to you.

You shake his hand twice before dropping it, “It’s very nice to meet you too, George. Fred has told me so much.”

“He has?”

You nod, “He’s told me all about the pranks you played at Hogwarts and why you set up this shop – which I think is wonderful by the way – I feel like I already know you.”

George shifts his gaze to his twin, “I don’t know why but I didn’t think you’d talk about me.”

Fred gapes, “Of course I talk about you. You’re my twin brother, you’re practically half of me.”

George shrugs, “You only send letters to mum… I just assumed.”

Fred steps forward, placing his hands on George’s shoulders, “Mum made me promise to write, I couldn’t break that. I wanted to write to you so much, George, but the guilt I felt as just leaving you and the shop was too much and then more time passed. I’ve been an awful brother; can you forgive me?”

George laughs, tears falling freely down his face. “There’s nothing to forgive now that I know why.”

Fred hauls George into a hug; neither afraid to show their emotions through this reunion. Fred had been so worried before this; thinking his brother might turn him away at the door, but now holding him in his arms, he’s just happy to have his twin by his side once more.

They pull away with a sob; George clapping Fred on the back. “Will you be returning to work, Freddie?”

Fred’s eyes land on you; where you’ve stood silently through the whole exchange, just happy to see the two brothers reunite. His eyes search your face for something, and he finds it in your smile. “Yeah, George. I think I might do.”

George glances between you and Fred as if seeing the connection there. He keeps his mouth shut but smiles at the fact that his twin has found someone to share his life with.

You spend a couple more hours in the shop; pottering freely as Fred and George discuss the state of the business and when Fred would like to start work again. Pride runs through your veins as you listen to them from the upper floor; Fred has achieved so much in such a short space of time and you couldn’t be more prouder of him.

You also couldn’t be more in love with him. He handles himself with such grace; standing taller, smiling more. The more time you spent with him, the more you could feel yourself falling for him. Nights alone in your flat had you thinking of what it would be like to be laid in bed next to him – would he cuddle? Would he let you lay your head on his chest? Or would he prefer to spoon? You had spent so many nights thinking of these questions, trying to think of answers.

“(Y/N)?” Fred calls from the lower floor, “Are you ready to go?”

“Already?” You ask, descending the staircase.

Fred nods, “I’ll come back tomorrow and talk more to George about what I need to do. It’s time we got some lunch, however.”

Your stomach grumbles at his words, “You’ve got great timing it seems, magic man.”

He shakes his head, laughing softly, “No. I just know you too well.”

You smile at him before turning to George to say goodbye. George smiles at you, saying, “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other very soon,” with a wink at Fred.

The tips of Fred’s ears burn red as he claps his twin on the shoulder, promising he’ll call in tomorrow. “Tell mum you’ve seen me, will you? I know she worries,” Fred calls on his way out.

“Already on it!” are George’s final words before the door closes.

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

Sitting at a corner table in The Leaky Cauldron, Fred continues to ride on the high from seeing his twin brother after a year apart. He’s positively ravenous; the nerves before having dampened his appetite. He takes it upon himself to order for the both you; checking that you don’t mind. You wave him away, stating that you wouldn’t even know where to begin with ordering.

Tom hands Fred your drinks after ordering, letting him know it’d be around ten minutes before food was with you. Fred thanks the barman, picking up the drinks to return you.

“I’m really proud of you, Fred.” You state, taking a sip of the sweet Butterbeer.

“You are?” He asks bashfully.

“I am. It took a lot of bravery to do what you did today.”

Fred blushes, but doesn’t drop his eyes from yours. “I think I’m going to be brave one last time.”

“You are?”

“Yes,” He states, reaching for your hand, “I’ve only known you for less than six months but in that time you’ve helped me find who I was before the war. You’ve helped me find the laughter that was missing. What I’m trying to say is, is that I’ve fallen in love with you, (Y/N).”

“Oh, Fred,” You sniffle, “I love you too.”

“You do?”

You nod, “I really do. I love every last bit of you.

Fred sags in his chair; holding onto your hand tighter, “I was so worried you wouldn’t love me back.”

“No chance of that, magic man.”

The smile that breaks across his face is simply breathtaking, and you thank your lucky stars that the man you’ve fallen in love with, loves you back, just as much.

Tom fetches your food over then, settling two plates onto table. It smells divine and without letting go of Fred’s hand, you pick up your fork and dig in.

The meal is eaten in silence; happy looks and secret smiles exchanged over the steaming plates of food. Fred’s thumb rubs over the back of your hand; the motion now having another meaning alongside ‘I’m here’. Elation bubbles within you, flooding your veins. The love you feel for this man is entirely encompassing, filling your very pores, combining with your genetic makeup.

For as delicious as the meal is, the both of you barely taste it. Plates are empty in no time, and Fred leaves Tom a tip on the table. He pulls you up with him, dragging you to the door and back to muggle London.

It feels like a fever dream; stepping back into the reality you’ve known all your life until you met the red-headed man stood next to you.

Fred tugs you into him; his arm wrapping around your waist. He drops your hand in favour of caressing your cheek. His brown eyes sparkle with love and joy as he dips his head, pausing just before he touches his lips to yours, waiting for permission. You grant him in the form of pushing your mouth to his.

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in close, feeling all of him pressed against all you. He tastes of the butterscotch from the dregs of his Butterbeer and you hum against his mouth – it’s intoxicating. He’s intoxicating; you could lose yourself entirely in him and you wouldn’t mind a bit. Your hand runs through his hair, tugging lightly. Your toes curl at the sound of the low moan from the back of his throat.

From the outside, this looks like a simple passionate embrace between a young couple. They don’t know how long this kiss has been in the making; how many time you’ve wondered exactly what Fred would taste like, and now you have that knowledge, it’s not something you’ll be parting with soon.

Eventually, you pull away from him, coming back to the surface for breath but Fred doesn’t let you go. He holds onto you tightly, pressing kiss after kiss to your face making you giggle at his affectionate side.

He lets you go for a single instant to pull you into the side street beside The Leaky Cauldron. He wraps you tightly into his side, savouring the feel of you lined next to him.

“This is going to make you dizzy,” is his only warning before he apparates back to your flat.

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

Though confessions have been uttered, Fred takes his time to learn your body.

Kissing you slowly; peeling your clothes off your body with the air of someone who has all the time in the world – and he does. He takes his time to memorise every inch of your body; every dip, every curve, every freckle. He commits it all to memory though the both of you know that you’ll be doing this for a very long time. He whispers words of worship into your skin; your body was a cathedral and he was going to worship at your feet.

You take your time with him; running your hand through the hair on his chest before trailing it lower, watching how the muscles in his toned stomach jump at your touch. A simple touch, and it drives him wild.

He draws you in for a kiss; flipping the both of you so you’re underneath him. He braces himself above and you spend the rest of the night, and most of the morning, learning the noises that can be evoked from a kiss in the right place.

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

It surprised Fred that it takes his mother almost a month to send him a letter demanding that she finally get to meet the person who had stolen her son’s heart.

Fred reads the letter beside you at the breakfast table; chuckling at his mother’s words over his morning cup of tea. He hands you the letter once he’s finished reading, watching your face for every emotion as well as letting his gaze drop to the small purple bruises at the base of your neck, laid there by his mouth.

You hold a hand up to your mouth, repressing the smile. “Your mother wants to meet me?”

Fred nods, “She has for a while, but I didn’t want to scare you away.”

“There’s no chance of that now, magic man, especially after last night.”

Fred blushes but beams, satisfied. “Would you like to meet them?”

You pause, tilting your head to one side as you think of how to phrase your next few sentences, “I don’t want to presume anything, but I’d like to think I’m going to be in your life for a long while. I think the earlier I meet your family, the better.”

Fred takes your hand in his, dropping a kiss to the top of it. “You aren’t presuming anything; I want you in my life for an eternity and more. But are you sure you want to meet them? I’m from a very large family, and if I know them, it’ll be partners as well.”

You lean over to press a kiss to his cheek then to peck his lips quickly, “I love the worry, but it’s okay. I want to meet them, and I want to see pictures of my magic man as a baby.”

Fred groans; he’s forgotten about the baby pictures but from the look on your face, he know he’s fighting a losing battle. He kisses you quick, “I’ll send an owl to my mum now, letting her know we’ll come tomorrow, how does that sound?”

You hum happily, “That sounds like just enough time for me to find an outfit good enough.”

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

Molly Weasley opened Fred’s letter with a shriek; rushing to reply before getting started on calling the family together. She sends her Patronus to Charlie in Romania; threatening death should he not return home for this occasion. Charlie replies within two hours by showing up on the doorstep with his girlfriend, Evie in tow.

The whole family under one roof again would be something of an event; and one Molly would not waste by having petty squabbles and nasty reminders. She lines her family up in the living room; boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands and wives and proceeds to lecture about what this means. She’s grateful it being a Friday evening so she can lecture the whole family without absentees claiming work as the excuse.

Halfway through her lecture to her family, Arthur places a soft hand on her shoulder, “Molly, dear, we’re going to be on our best behaviour.”

She whimpers, “I haven’t seen my son is so long, Arthur.”

He wraps an arm around his wife’s shoulder, knowing the toll Fred’s absence took on her. He had been the unexpected twin; but they didn’t love him any less for it. On the contrary, Molly loved him more for the fear of his siblings making him feel unwanted.

“I know, dear. But we all promise to be on our bestest behaviour, don’t we gang?”

Confirmation rings out across all six of their children and their partners. Molly levels them all with a look, “Fred is bringing his muggle girlfriend with him, and George has told me it’s serious. We aren’t going to have a problem with that are we?”

“Definitely not,” George calls out to the agreement of his siblings and siblings-in-law, “(Y/N) is a sweetheart; you’ll see the moment they both arrive.”

Molly dismisses her family; dispersing them to different rooms with different jobs to make the house presentable for Fred and (Y/N)’s visit tomorrow.

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

Tomorrow arrives quickly, and before you know it, the sun is shining through your window and the birds have begun their morning song. Fred’s arm hangs over your waist in a dead weight; you shift him gently as you make your way out of your bed and into the bathroom to begin your day.

By the time Fred wakes, you’re dressed and are brushing through your hair. With a lazy grin, he watches you get ready for the day. He’s in utter awe of how he met someone like you, but then you meet his eyes in the mirror and that awe transforms into something warmer.

He drags himself out of the warm bed desperate to feel you under his hands. He places his hands on your shoulder, dropping a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“Good Morning,” He whispers, his voice still raspy with sleep, “You look beautiful.”

You hum, “Good Morning sleepy head. The kettle boiled a few minutes ago and there’s a teabag waiting in your favourite pot.”

“You’re a dream,” Fred calls out, pottering into the kitchen.

“And you’re a flatterer, magic man,” You call back; grinning when you hear his laughter.

Time flies by in a rush of breakfast, clothes, and kisses and before you know it, it’s time to apparate all the way to Devon.

“Are you ready?” Fred asks; your hand tight in his. You don’t miss the double meaning to his words.

“Take me to Devon, magic man,” is all you reply before your flat turns into a whirlpool of blended colours and you’re spat back out on the outskirts of green, green farmland.

Not letting go of your hand, Fred leads you in the direction of his childhood home. Air he hasn’t smelt in over a year wash over him, bringing with it a tidal wave of memories. Nostalgia settles within him as he glances down at you to gauge your reaction to his home.

The Burrow stands proudly in the valley between two hills. You gasp at the sheer height of it, “This is where you grew up?”

Fred nods, eyes on you, “It is. I lived here until I moved to London.”

“It’s incredible,” You whisper, taking a step forward, and then another, and then another until you break through the long grass into a clearing. A garage is situated to the left of the large house, and you can just make out the canes for a vegetable garden. You nod as if understanding every motive for the placement of everything; if you were to live somewhere like here, you’d too grow your own food.

Fred draws your attention back to him by speaking, “Through there is where we practice Quidditch; the game I told you about from Hogwarts?” He continues when he sees you nod, “Then behind there is a pond that a family of frogs live in. To the right of us is mum’s garden, it’s her pride and hoy – she excels at household charms, but she’s a wonder in the garden too.”

“Fred, this place is incredible. I already love it and I haven’t even met your family.”

Fred smiles, “You won’t need to wait very long; here’s George.”

You turn from the sight of the growing vegetables to see George making his way over to you. “Fred! (Y/N)! How are you?” he calls out.

Fred waves at his twin, leading you to him. “We’re good, Georgie. How is everyone?”

George beams at his twin and then you, “They’re beside themselves with excitement. Mum screeched when she got your letter; gave us a lecture on decorum and everything.”

Fred laughs; his heart swelling with love and fondness for the woman who had raised him with such love and care.

“What do you say, (Y/N)?” George starts, “Ready to meet the Weasley clan?”

You grin at George and then at Fred; utterly besotted by this man, “Lead the way.”

George claps his hands before turning his back on you, heading towards the open door. You follow him at a faster pace than the one you had done when walking up to the house. Eagerness settling in your stomach as you keep your eyes on the open door.

Fred keeps pace with you easily; both nerves and excitement coursing through his veins.

He hears his mother before he sees her, “Fred! My darling,” she cries, tackling him into a hug so tight Fred thinks his ribs might break. You pause next to him; Fred’s arm angled awkwardly as he hugs his mum with one arm – you move to let go of his hand so he can hug his mother properly, but his hold on you tightens.

“Hi Mum, I’ve missed you,” Fred says at the sound of her cries, “I’m home mum, and I’m starving so let’s get something to eat, shall we? I’ve missed your cooking too much.”

Molly wipes her eyes, running them over her son, “I think you have. You’re looking far too thin, darling,” Her eyes land on you; they widen for a second before she’s tackling you in a hug. She whispers, “Thank you” in your ear before saying much louder, “I’m so glad I finally get to meet you, dear. I’ve read so much about you I feel I know you already but it’s never the same thing.”

You return her hug with just as much vigour, “Thank you for having me, I love your home.”

Molly pulls away, “You’re lovely; you’re perfect for Fred, I know it. Come on in, it’s time we ate, and you can meet the rest of the family.”

Your stomach ties itself in knots as you follow Fred into his childhood home. Voices starts to shout upon the sight of Fred entering the home; he grins at them all, greeting them by name, passing out kiss after kiss on the cheek as well as hugs to his brothers.

Then it’s all silent as the crowd turns to you. Fred’s hand drops your and his arm wraps around your waist, “Everyone this is (Y/N). Please be nice, I’m rather fond as you’ve probably heard from mum and George.”

Everyone greets you as if you’ve been part of the family for years; kisses on cheeks and tight hugs as everyone introduces themselves. A dream of your since you were child was to have  a large family, and now with Fred, it seems as if that dream would finally be possible.

His arm rests on the back of your chair as the family take their seats at the table. The food is served with loudness and love; Molly taking extra care with her cooking to make sure it’s perfect for you. From your first bite, you understand what Fred was on about all those months ago. After eating Molly’s food, you would be ruined for anyone else’s.

It’s wonderful; they take you in with open arms, ignoring the fact that you’re a muggle because to them, it doesn’t matter. They aren’t bothered whether you have magic or not, just that you love Fred and make him happy.

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

After the meal, Fred watches you interact with his family; explaining to his father the purpose of your degrees and your plans for the future as Arthur sits there entirely enraptured. He watches you asking Charlie question after question about Dragons with Charlie only being too happy to answer – his girlfriend Evie chiming in every now and then with her own knowledge on the subject matter.

He watches you talk animatedly; eyed wide and hands gesturing wildly, fitting in with his family better than he could have dreamed of.

Sighing happily, Fred realises three things:

One – his family would always be there for him, no matter the issue. They’re there to help, to never hinder.

Two – he’s still healing. It will be a long time before he’s recovered from the war, and he’s accepted that.

And three – he’s moving forward with all that in tow because he’s found the love of his life and he’s finally ready to start living it.

*********

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Ernest Macmillian was found dead in his home, impaled through the heart with your ornate and alluring ancestral family dagger. Your fingerprints dotted the handle. Your knife was secretly concealed from all in your dormitory chest. No one would’ve known its location but you. Who else could’ve done it?

Who else could have murdered poor Ernie? She was the only one with access to the weapon! I saw her bicker with Ernie once in fifth year. It must have been her! It’s always the ones you never expect.

18 months. 18 months and you were finally free. 

“Y/L/N, Y/N. Get up,” spat the gaggle of brutish guards, hoisting your skeletal arms up from the floor where they lay. Your limp body was dragged across the stoney floors, your bloodied knees searing with pain. Pain that no longer phased you. Pain that brought you one more step to the kiss of eternal sleep.

You were hoisted onto a pitch-black broom, which perfectly matched the colors that haunted your routine nightmares. You held a loose grip onto the guard, not afraid to fall into the merciless ocean peppered with sharp, spiky rocks below. 

In what felt like a hazy grey blur, you found yourself seated in the middle of a room inside a dehumanizing cage, an array of withering, unsparing wizards revoltingly looking down at your unkempt self from every angle. In one concise movement of their wrinkled jaws, they croaked the two words that would damn you forever: “you’re free”.

You heaved the flimsy cardboard box filled with your meager belongings onto the rotting floorboards of your run-down flat, an unwavering look of death etched into your face. Despite being back into normal society for the past two weeks, your eyes were still hollowed and dark, your skin clinging to your bones like canvas stretched onto a frame.

You were utterly alone. Everyone who used to care for you now pretended you had never existed, your name reduced to an echoing rumor. Nobody would ever love you again, and you were sure that even if someone did, you would never be able to reciprocate it. Your beaten heart had been reduced to a pulp, the most it could feel was the steel club of depression striking it again and again and again.  

Once your box of personals found a spot to rest, your body promptly crumpled to the floor, your soul begging to escape your physical shell once again. You should’ve gotten up. You should’ve dispersed your belongings around your flat. Maybe it would ease the pain. But instead, you remained on the floor, your organs feeling melty and gutted. 

Your mind desperately tried to pull your dreams towards your happy memories, ones that were hidden somewhere in the maze-like catacombs of your mind. They must be here somewhere, right? But with every filing cabinet drawer that you desperately tore from its slot with a sob, the more damage you inflicted. The happy memories must be here somewhere.

But they were never found.

You were startled awake by a jovial and familiar knock on the door that you couldn’t quite place. The rapping swam through the apartment as you slowly emerged from your defensive fetal-position on the floor. You wiped the stream of drool from your chin, trudging to the door with heavy and haphazard steps. 

You peered through the glass peephole of the dark wooden door, your tear-stained and crusty eyes darting around suspiciously. 

You immediately recognized the face standing outside your door, their eyes watching the handle expectantly; the face of someone who your twisted mind had reduced to a mere fantasy: Fred Weasley. 

“Freddie! How could you do that! You’re going to get expelled! My own boyfriend won’t be at school to see me anymore! How sad would that be? How embarrassing?” you screeched, your words fueled by a wave of ever-growing anger. 

Your face was damp with tears of rage and sadness; your eyes were flaming and undaunting. Fred looked at you in horror, before his face rapidly switched to one of an equally-matching temper.

“Don’t be worried about me all the goddamn time! Get off my back once in a while, you overbearing boar! You know damn well I’m not leaving this school, and I’m sure as hell not leaving you!” 

“Just stay away from me, you joke of a partner!” you yelled, before stomping away from Fred in a furious huff. Tears poured down your face like boiling water, and you hastily dashed to the nearest bathroom for cover.

“Fred…?” you uttered with surprise, as you slowly swung your worn flat door open. Fred swallowed his feelings of shock with a gulp, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat. You looked so different than how you had at Hogwarts just 18 months ago: the magnificent brightness was drained from your eyes, replaced with depressing black sludge. Your body looked one papercut away from tearing, and your lips were crusty and coarse. You looked like a living corpse.

“Y/N…?” he asked shakily, his voice lacking confidence for the first time in his life. He hadn’t expected you to return back in such a mangled condition. Sure, he’d heard of the horrors of Azkaban, just as any wizard had, but you were living proof of its sheer brutality. 

“What do you want?” you asked with a growl. You hadn’t intended for your words to be so venomous, but all your negative memories with Fred droned in your brain, demons whispering warnings in your ears. 

“Well… I just, uh, came to see you, y’know, since you were gone for so long. I missed you,” he stated awkwardly, slowly stepping into the dilapidated apartment. His eyes glanced at the barren, peeling walls, a concerned furrow of his brows following.

“It looks quite, er, home-y in here. I take it you’ve just moved in?” he asked, taking a look in your box of belongings. 

The box was barren and sad; all that resided in it was a trophy from second year, a dusty framed photo of your family on a trip, and a small red teddy bear from somewhere you couldn’t place.  

Fred reached for the dusty teddy in the box, a small smile quirking on his lips. “You remember who gave this to you?” he questioned with an anticipating smile. You replied with an unbothered and somber shake of your head.

“It was me! You’re telling me you don’t remember that Valentine’s day? It was one of our favorite times together… when you spilled the...” Fred trailed off, the smile on his face dissipating after seeing your blank but tormented expression remain.

Awkward tension filled the air, but the depressing voices screaming in your mind made it impossible to register. Fred stood there motionless, looking despairingly at your disheveled self, tears threatening to prick at his eyes.

He continued to question you, “What all do you remember then? I know the dementors aren’t known for their good hospitality.” His attempts at lightening the mood were met only with your glassy, sunken eyes.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I have a life of my own! I’m sorry I can't do everything for you all the time. I try my best, you know that! I’ll try harder, sure, but I can’t be here every minute of every day. You have to understand that, or else this isn’t going to work. It’ll never work,” Fred said, his voice morphing from an apologetic roar to a morose and regretful whisper. 

You couldn’t be mad at Fred. He was right. You can’t be with him all the time, no matter how much you wanted him. Maybe he didn’t even want you. Maybe he never did. 

“It’ll never work.”

“I can’t remember much, Fred. Besides all the… bad stuff,” you stated with a crack, your shattered soul lurching inside your body violently. 

“What bad stuff, darling?” he asked, placing a concerned but compassionate hand on your shoulder. You instantly recoiled from his touch, darting towards the nearest corner with nervous whimpers.

You shakily stood, back to the intersecting walls, palms flat against them with fear. It was a horrific sight to Fred: the intense fear painting your face at the touch of him. It was worse than he could have ever imagined. He’d never have the real you back, would he?

You slowly backed off the corner at the sight of a non-threatening and shattered Fred, stating with a cry, “I can’t remember anything we used to have, or be. None of the good stuff I’m sure we did.”

“All that rings through my mind is our fights, your harsh words, my heartbroken sobs. That’s all I can remember, Freddie. That’s all that’s left. It’s all gone, I can’t find it.”

Sobs flooded the apartment as you collapsed to the floor; your legs unwilling to carry your ill mind any longer. Fred watched you crumble, silent tears staining his freckled face.  

Your hands worked as wipers, smearing the burning-hot tears that poured from your eyes onto your sleeves. Fred stood in front of you, frozen in shock, a tsunami of grief panging his heart repeatedly.

“It’s all gone, huh?” he croaked, his voice pained and mournful. You responded with a regretful nod, tucking your shaky legs to your chest.

He gradually inched closer to you, his mind begging his legs to move. Finally, when he stood right in front of you, he extended one of his lanky arms in your direction. His tear sprinkled palm reached out to you like a lifeline; you brought your unsteady and equally tear-stained hand to meet his’. 

He unraveled your numb legs as he pulled you up from the floor. Your body felt as thin and light as paper, your heart a heavy burden in your chest. Your legs wobbled as if they were flimsy toothpicks supporting a brick. Fred held your waist to support you, liquified sadness still flowing from his eyes.

His other hand gently cupped your sickly sharp jawline, forcing your blurry, dark eyes to look at his’. 

“Oh, Y/N, it’ll be okay. I promise.” Fred wrapped his arms around you into a hug. His embrace felt warm, a previously foreign feeling. An indescribable emotion struck your heart, but this time, it didn’t drive you deeper into insanity. It didn’t make you want to pull out every strand of hair on your head or dig your razor-sharp nails into your palms. It made you feel something foreign. 

“Oh Freddie,” you sobbed, laying your face in the crook of his neck. Your crying changed, fueled by different emotions than you ever had before. Bad memories still rang through your head, but the more time you spent in Fred’s arms, the harder it was to see them.