#weasleysflowr

Fred stopped at the entrance and took a moment to admire you, and the way the fire reflected off your face to the point where you looked like you were glowing. He took notice of the way your eyes skimmed across the pages, practically being able to see as the words you were so invested in sunk into your brain. He watched as you bit your plump lips in anticipation at a particularly exciting part of the story. And lastly, he took notice of the knitted jumper sat upon your shoulders, his knitted jumper. Suddenly, all feelings of frustration and defeat left his body, replaced with a more happier and lighter feeling. His heart thudded against his chest as butterflies swarmed in his stomach. Fred loved seeing you wearing his clothing.

You still hadn’t noticed Fred watching from the side, too engrossed in the story playing out in your mind. You were just getting up to the climax of the story, your heart racing as you impatiently read over the words. But you were interrupted when you heard someone clear their throat, followed by, “is that my jumper you’re wearing?” your head snapped up in alert at the source of the voice, your heart chattering for a different reason. Your cheeks filled with warmth at Fred’s words, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear in embarrassment.  

Fred smirked at your flustered state watching your movements closely as you close your book and smile sheepishly at him. “Uhm... no...?”

“Are you lying to me?”  

You hesitated for a second, finally coming clean with a sigh, “...yes”. you looked down at your lap sheepishly. In all honesty, you knew he wouldn’t mind, claiming on various occasions that he preferred to see you in his clothing. However, you took it upon yourself to sneak into his dormitory and steal this jumper right from his trunk.  

Fred smiled to himself at your confession, opting to tease you more because, well, that’s who he is. But before he could get another word in, you perked up again, a glint of mischief present in your eyes as you asked, “So? How did the prank on Filch go?” And just like that, his sour mood had returned at the remembrance of the failed prank. Fred’s smile dropped from his face, carrying himself to the couch and practically flinging himself to sit.

He glanced at your lap, moving his arm to take one of your hands in his, just wanting to feel the comfort he usually felt when holding your hand. He took a moment to just admire how small and soft your hand was compared to his. You linked your fingers together, sensing that something wasn’t quite right. A look of concern passed your features briefly as Fred let out a groan, whining in frustration. “It didn’t go well. Snape came out of nowhere and told Filch he was needed elsewhere, which ended up in the prank going off on him. We’ve got two months detention now!”

You nod in understanding, lifting your free arm to run your fingers through his soft hair. In front of the fire, it was almost like his red locks had lit aflame. “I’m sorry your plan backfired, love. But two months detention isn’t that bad compared to what it could’ve been!” You tried to sound hopeful, wondering if your words had any effect on his mood, but you realised that probably wasn’t the best thing to say as Fred gave you an incredulous look.  

“Please, enlighten me! How could have this ended any worse?”

You sat and pondered for a moment, not actually being able to come up with another option. “Ok, you’re right. It couldn’t have.”  

“Seriously?!” you giggled at Fred as he bent down to lean his head on your lap, pressing his face into your knees. “You’re no help, you know that?”

You knew he was joking, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his behaviour. “Just think, both you and George will come up with an equally as good prank, one that won’t fail on you, and you’ll be out of detention in no time.” you brought your hand down to his head again, raking your fingers through his locks, lightly scratching his scalp with your nails as you do so.

Fred sighed deeply at the sensation, your fingers causing delightful shivers to run down his body. His favourite thing ever was when you played with his hair, and while he’s never admitted that he gathered you already knew. He didn’t respond to your last statement, preferring to just sit in silence, the only sound that could be heard was the cackling of the fire and each of your slow and steady breaths. After a moment or two of Fred laying in your lap and you opening your book again, he broke the silence, “oh, and by the way, I’m not moving, your lap is comfortable.” 

You smiled to yourself as you turned a page, returning your hand to his head, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

Fred shifted his body, so the back of his head was against your legs, and his face was facing towards the ceiling. He brought the hand in his hair to his lips, kissing your knuckles as you put your book down. “You know I love you, right, love?” 

You smiled again and leaned down to connect your lips with his before mumbling against them, “and I love you too.”  

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