Metamorphosis | F.W. X Reader

Metamorphosis | F.W. x Reader

Summary: Fred has been acting differently since he got hurt during the War. You're not sure how many more of his outbursts you can handle.

CW: established relationship, mentions of a head injury, TBIs, migraines, blood, being cut from broken glass, yelling, arguing, crying, not proofread

WC: 4.3k

A/N: now this one is a rollercoaster

based off this request! | f.w. masterlist | navi

Things had been difficult since May.

Voldemort was dead and the war was over. But everyone was dealing with the aftermath.

Things were quiet for a while, people were quiet. Distant but united at the same time. It took a few months for everyone to try and go back to normal.

Now it was November, and Fred was still dealing with the aftermath.

Of course, a head injury from being hit with a spell and a literal stone wall falling on him would have its long-term effects. You’d already read the list over who knows how many times.

Memory loss, light sensitivity, aggression, problems with multitasking, communication issues, irritability, mood swings, forgetfulness, etc. The list went on and on, you hated how long it was. 

You did research on it, listening to his doctors and picking up as many books you could find on head injuries or TBIs.

You even got your hands on some textbooks that muggle medical students used.

George and you took care of Fred after he came back to your shared space above the shop. He spent his first week after being discharged from the hospital at his mums, due to Mollys demands.

Things slowly went back to normal after a few months. Most things.

Shops reopened all along Diagon Alley, including the twins, people felt safe to go out and chat with each other again. 

Life went back to how it was before the war began.

The cold weather was getting harsher and so was Fred. 

You knew that the irritability and mood swings would come along with the injury. You just weren’t expecting it to be so constant.

Fred had his bad days and he had his better days. Today was one of those bad days.

You could tell he was really struggling remembering what was in stock and what needed to be made more of. You sat with him at the counter as he wrote down on a notepad what was needed. Taking notes was one of the things that helped him nowadays.

You saw him look up, the cogs attempting to turn in his head.

“Peruvian Darkness Powder.” You said softly, it was the next thing that needed to be restocked.

“Right. That. Thanks.” He muttered out, crouching over to write it down, his hand shaky and handwriting a bit wobbled.

Frustrated with his shaky hands, he threw the pen down, putting his head in his hands, rubbing his face.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard. I feel like I can’t properly do anything.” He groaned, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Fred, it's what the symptoms of a-”

“I know it’s a fucking brain injury. I’ve heard it enough goddamn times. You don’t need to spell it out for me.” Fred spat out, ripping his hand from yours and walking past you. That was the fourth time he snapped at you today.

After closing that night, you sat on the bench right outside the shop. Elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands.

You were really trying here. Trying your best not to get mad at him, to yell and spit at him as he did you.

He was still your Fred that you loved. He was just a bit different now, and that was okay, he was still your Fred.

The door to the shop opened, the silly tune of the charmed bell playing as a tall figure stepped out. Fred stood to the side of you now, his frame blocked out the light shining on you from the street lamps. The only light now being from the inside of the shop, illuminating his and your face once you looked up.

You breathed in deep, closing your eyes for a second, trying to keep any tears from falling. The cold wind wasn’t helping.

“Hi.” He gave you a shamefaced smile.

George had definitely scolded him and told him to apologize once you went outside. It’s not the first time he’s made him do it in recent times.

“Hi.” You sighed.

“I’m- I didn’t mean to snap at you when you were trying to help me with what needed to be restocked, or when you offered to sort the mail.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling small. The feeling had become constant for him now.

“And before both of those, when you snapped at me in your office. Then in front of one of the cashiers.”

“I did?” He said softly, genuinely shocked. You nodded, brows knit together.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize. I don’t even remember that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so harsh.” Fred looked down, having the same expression as a kicked puppy.

“It’s okay, Fred. I know you don’t mean to.” You slowly nodded.

“I’m trying to not be so rude. I’m trying to be better, I promise.”

“I know, Fred. I know.” You sniffled.

The doctors said practicing patterns would help with cognitive ability. Patterning. So stocking the purple and orange mystery boxes in a pattern would be Fred’s practice.

He began to practice different patterns:

Purple. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

Then moved onto a bit more strange ones:

Purple. Purple. Orange. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat. 

He was struggling a bit more than usual today, you watched as he did, and it broke your heart.

You sighed as you put your notepad away, pausing writing down the grocery list for now and making your way over to Fred.

You reached out, putting the next correctly colored box on the shelf for him. He grumbled out a ‘thanks’.

“I can do the rest for you. Go give your brain a break.” You breathed out a laugh, trying to be lighthearted as you picked up the large box filled with the remaining mystery boxes to be put away.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”  Fred mumbled out, paying you barely any mind.

“Fred, I can tell your stressed enough just let me-“

“Will you piss off? I said I've got it!” Fred didn’t mean to yell, especially in the middle of a busy store, he was just frustrated. 

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment and anger due to all the staring eyes of confused customers looking at the both of you.

“Fine, fucking do it yourself then.” You shoved the box into his hands. Walking off, pissed off as you threw off your hat onto the counter.

George murmured your name as you walked by, trying to put a hand on your shoulder, you shoved out his grasp.

You hid away in the back stockroom. George followed, entering a tiny bit after you.

You sat on a wooden box, leaned over with your head in your hands. 

“You know he doesn’t mean it. He got blasted pretty hard, it’s just one of the side effects.” George sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You were so tired of those two words. Side effects. Yes, of course you knew what the side effects and symptoms were, that they wouldn’t be pretty or easy. But you were just so sick of hearing it.

You shrugged, lifting your head up.

“He's frustrated. With himself.” George sat down next to you, intertwining his hands into a ball. “He always feels bad after he gets angry.”

“I know, and I’m trying my best to help him out but it’s like he never fucking wants it. He refuses.”

“He’s never liked help, always wanting to be so damn independent and stubborn.” George let out a weak chuckle and shook his head. “It took him five minutes to accept the money Harry gave us. Even after that he tried to tell Harry he’d give it back if he changed his mind.”

“I remember, I was there.” You smiled a bit to yourself at the memory, Fred was so adamant about Harry keeping the money, or at least most of it.

“Chocolate?” He pulled a small bar off one of the shelves, you shook your head. “It’ll make you feel better.” You persuaded, you let out an amused sigh and took it.

“You stole that line from Lupin.” Unwrapping it and biting off a small chunk.

“Yeah, but it works doesn’t it?” You let out a defeated nod and smile in response, taking another bite.

“He’s not gonna be like this forever. You know that. He’s gotten a lot better since May. Just, his moodiness will stick around for a little bit.”

“I know. I’m just so worried about him. I can’t help it.”

George was at Angelinas for the night. It took him ten minutes to stop worrying and finally go, constantly reminding you if you needed his help with Fred, if Fred starts getting mean, to send him an owl and he’d come back immediately. You shooed him off and assured him Fred and you would be fine, that he should go have a worry-free night with Angelina.

It was going well, you watched a short movie and shared some snacks and cuddles on the couch. It was all going so nicely until you both decided to get changed and go to bed.

You slipped on a night shirt talking to Fred about the movie as he opened the top drawer on the wooden dresser. The one that creaked and occasionally jammed from time to time. 

Tonight was one of those times.

He pulled out a pair of pajama pants from the drawer, his eyebrows knitting together when he pushed the drawer and it barely moved. You looked over and frowned disappointedly.

“It’s stuck again.” You sighed, thinking out loud. 

“I know.” Fred muttered out under his breath, you didn’t catch it.

You watched as he repeatedly tried to push it, it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s just old, maybe tomorrow we could go window shopping for a new one?” You suggested sweetly as he didn’t respond, he just clenched his jaw as he continued trying to close it.

He used a terrifying amount of force as he slammed the drawer shut with one last push, causing the whole thing to ratter. The sudden movement and sound made you jump. You took a step back, Fred noticed. His expression faltered for a moment as his eyes scanned your body language.

“What, are you scared of me or something now?” He muttered, an attitude in his voice.

“No, I never said I was scared of you. You just…”

 “What? I’ve just what?” 

You were so sick of his attitude. You took in a deep breath before speaking.

“You’ve been acting up, you’ve been slamming doors, throwing things down when you’re frustrated, you yell more. At George and I especially. You’re unpredictable.” You let out quickly.

“Unpredictable? I have not been that bad. You’re dramatic.” Fred shot back, he was a bit hurt by your words, yet deep down he knew you were right. His actions had become surprising. But he was too damn stubborn and he was in the middle of a beginning argument, so he wouldn’t admit to it now.

“I’m not, you’re proving your point with how you’re being now. You’re being stubborn and defensive. You get angry and you yell at me. When I’m just trying to help! The doctors said-”

“I don’t give a shit what the fucking doctors told you! Or those stupid books you’ve been wasting your time on!” All this yelling hurt his head. But the words were spilling out his mouth like a waterfall of poison. 

“Have you considered your not being any help? If you really wanted to help you’d let me do shit myself instead of acting like I’m fucking stupid! You wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around me! You’d let me be instead of being a pounding in my head!” His chest heaved, his face slowly being filled with regret as he saw you. Taking a step back with the most painful stare at him, astonishment and hurt written all over your face.

He watched as you brought your arms up around you, holding yourself as if it was a way of shielding yourself from his words.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Your voice went soft. A small crack in your delivery of words as you rubbed your upper arm.

“No! Absolutely not! I just- I’m-” Here comes the sputtered out apologies, the regret filling him up immediately, you just shook your head.

“Forget it, I’m done with this conversation.” You barged out the room. That look never leaving your face, it will haunt him forever.

“Where are you going? I thought you were going to bed?” He called out as you went down the hallway.

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” You shouted back, more of a loud mutter really. Fred said your name disappointedly, leaning against the bedroom door frame. You didn’t respond, you didn’t turn around, you made your way to the couch.

He didn’t run after and stop you. Knowing you’d give him the silent treatment and refuse to get in the same bed as him. For tonight only. Hopefully.

Though you tried to muffle and hide your sobs behind your hands, Fred could still hear it all the way from the bedroom. Those pained sharp breaths in that turned into wheezes, the little hiccups and whimpers of sadness you made when you breathed out were far too loud to be hidden.

You cried for two hours until you finally got a grip of yourself. Getting up and going down the hallway, not to get back in bed, but to see if Fred was.

You peeked your head in just enough to see his side of the bed, he was laying on his back peacefully, his eyes puffy. Had he been crying also?

He was relaxed now though, resting. At least he was getting some sleep. You quietly sneaked back to the living room. Lying back down on the couch and using a throw pillow for your head. 

You couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t keep your eyes shut, couldn’t stop thinking, you couldn’t sleep. You missed him, you really just wanted to be next to him.

By the time the clock ticked to 2AM, you got up, tiptoeing back into the bedroom. Sneaking to your side of the bed, so carefully pulling back the sheets. You moved so carefully, so lightly, so gently as if everything was made of fine china. 

You debated if you should snuggle up to Fred, not wanting to wake him. What if he got annoyed again? You really didn’t want to deal with another conflict.

You carefully scooted over to him anyways, testing your luck. You slowly wrapped your arm around his torso, ever so lightly laying your head on his chest. He began to move and your body immediately tensed up.

His arm hooked around you, circling your waist, the other arm reaching over, his hand softly placed on the side of your head. Your body went limp in happiness. You could start crying again from all the joy you felt in this moment.

This is how you knew Fred hadn’t become a whole other person than the one you knew before the accident. His hands on you, holding onto you so sweetly, just like he used to. There were still those little remnants of his true self hanging around. He was still Fred. He was still your Fred.

You woke up to an empty bed. The sunlight shining down on Freds side of the mattress.

You changed into more presentable clothes, hearing the chatter from downstairs and knowing the shop was open. 

Going downstairs, Fred was nowhere to be seen while George was moving around helping customers and constantly casting spells to organize things.

Owning a joke shop was absolutely not a one man job.

“Where’s Fred?” You asked, looking around as you approached the counter. George was stacking cards. 

“In his office. Another migraine.” He tucked in his lips, seemingly annoyed.

“Oh. Well, I’m gonna go out, probably window shop. Do you need anything?”

“Could you get some cabbage? And a few more quills and ink? We’re running low.” He said, swiveling his way out from behind the counter.

You may have stayed out longer than you meant to.

Thinking you’d be back before five, you got home at nearly eight instead.

You did some looking around in local furniture shops, and you picked up what George asked for. You mostly just walked around the quieter streets, needing to get away from all the noise.

By the time you got back it was a bit dark outside and there was a closed sign on the shop door. You unlocked and locked it quickly, moving upstairs tiredly.

The living room light was turned off, the moonlight from outside being the only thing that made the room somewhat visible. Fred was sitting on the couch.

“Hey.” You spoke softly. 

“Hi.”

“Where’d George go?”

“He stopped by Angelina’s for dinner.” He said blankly. Everything felt so awkward.

“Oh. Have you eaten?” You asked as you set down the bags of supplies.

“Yeah, I had some leftovers.”

“Okay, well, what’re you doing in the dark? Get some light in here.” You giggled as you flipped up the light switch, overhead light brightening up the room.

Fred quickly scrunched his eyes closed with a pained expression, he put a hand up to shadow his face.

Fuck. Light sensitivity. He was already dealing with a migraine, that’s why he was in the dark, and you turning on the light made it much more intense.

“Shit. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You blurted out as you hit the switch down, the room going darker again.

“Here, I’ll- I’ll get you a glass of water.” You sputtered out, running over to the kitchen sink and grabbing a glass, filling it up with cold water from the tap.

“No, you don’t have to.” Fred muttered out.

“Please, it’ll help. Just let me help.” You pleaded as you ran back over to the couch, sitting down and holding the glass towards him. He denied it again.

“Fred, just drink-“

“I told you! No!” He shouted, pushing your hand away.

The glass slipped out of your grasp. Hitting the floor and cracked into pieces, somewhere in the impact a small shard hit your lower leg. Nothing serious, it could be quickly closed up with a spell, but it was bleeding heavily already.

Fred realized what had happened once you felt the stung and winced, holding a hand over your small injury, crimson staining your hand and dripping onto your sock.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He panicked as he straightened up, patting his sides for his wand, he had left it in his office. He saw yours on the coffee table.

“Here, let me fix-” He reached one hand towards your wand, the other laying on your shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s fine, I’ve got it.” You said as you reached across, grabbing your wand and leaned your shoulder away from his touch.

His stomach twisted, the guilt was eating him up. He fidgeted with his fingers, not knowing what to do with his hands now that you refused his touch and his help.

You said a quick spell, the cut swiftly closing, skin looking unharmed and the only evidence of what happened being the remnants of drying blood on your leg and hand.

“I’m gonna go wash off my hands.” You said so quietly, almost a whisper. Fred stayed silent as he watched you get up and walk away, he wanted to cry.

You returned to the living room with a packed suitcase, quickly walking past Fred on the couch and to the chimney. His eyes stayed glued on you the entire time. You didn’t look at him.

“You’re leaving?” Freds brows knit together in a sad way, he sat up straight from his spot on the couch.

“Yeah. Not for long. I’ll be back.” You spoke, back facing him as you put down your small suitcase.

“Where?”

“A friends place. For a few days.” You didn’t tell him who, he would most likely send letters apologizing.

George was the one who suggested it surprisingly. Once he came home as you were washing off the blood, he told you to go take a few days to yourself.

“No offense to you, you’ve been doing great. But I’ve lived with him for nearly twenty-six years. I know how to deal with him when he’s mad.” He held your shoulders.

“I know how to deal with him too, you know.” 

“Of course I do. But I know you’re worn out as well. You need to take some care of yourself. Focus on you for a few days.” You really didn’t want to agree with George on that, it felt rude to do it. There was really no good way of saying he was wearing you down.

“I’m sorry.” Fred spoke out.

“I know, Fred.” You let out a heavy breath. “I’m not mad at you. I think we should take a break from each other.” You tried not to let your voice wobble.

“You don’t mean a break up, right?” He stood up from the couch.

“No. Of course not.” You finally turned around, looking at his gloomy face. “We just need to spend some time apart, just for a day or so. Okay?” You kept your voice soft and nurturing, hoping it would hide the way your own words were breaking your heart.

"Can I just get a hug before you leave? Please?" Fred took a few steps closer, his steps cautious. You closed your eyes and nodded.

You didn’t want to look at him for too long, both of your faces were threatening to deteriorate into tears, and you couldn’t stand to see it.

He pulled you into him nicely, hands slowly and carefully wrapping around you like you would crack if he moved the wrong way.

“I’m sorry I’m like this. I love you.” He said softly, sounding like it was a plea for you to stay.

“I know.” You mumbled into his chest.

Fred’s injury didn’t bother you. The forgetfulness of struggles with certain things didn’t bother you, you didn’t care if he struggled to keep track with things. 

It was just his anger. His outbursts. His shouting. That’s what bothered you, it was nothing like him. Sure, he’s definitely gotten moody or stubborn or annoyed before like during Quidditch matches back at Hogwarts or when a much needed shipment arrived late at the shop.

But you’ve rarely seen him truly mad, yell like he does now, the only time you can remember him like that is when he had to be held back from helping George and Harry beat up Malfoy after a match in his seventh year.

“I still love him, of fucking course I do. But he’s changed so much. it’s like,” You stopped, clenching your jaw and trying your best trying to keep tears from returning. “It’s like sometimes I look at him, and he’s a ghost, he’s a completely different man I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“You’ve changed too.” Alicia commented, “You’re not as much of a hermit as you used to be.” She joked, poking you.

“Oh piss off.” You let out a breathy chuckle, face falling soon after. “I’m scared. What if he stays like this forever?” You whispered out, a small crack in your voice.

“He won’t. You told me already, there’s still that cheeky little Fred that you’ve always know still in him. He’s getting better day by day.” She tilted her head. “And fuck it. Even if he doesn’t, even if it takes a while, you gotta grow with him.” You looked at her, puzzled expression on your face.

“If you don’t grow with him, if you aren’t willing to go through that, then what in the hell are you doing?” She shrugged, laying back in her chair. “You’ve gone through these shitty times with him before, right? And you both made it through. What makes you worried you won’t be able to do it again?” 

Alicia was right. You’ve gone through rough patches with him and made it out just fine. Casual disagreements, arguments and fights, yet you always made up. Leaving those arguments in the past and loving each other in the present.

“You staying another night?” Alicia asked you, taking a sip from her glass.

“No, I think I’ll go back. I’ll send an owl and tell them before I go.”

Once the green flames subsided and you stepped out of the chimney, dusting off your clothes. Fred came running into the room, a bouquet of all the flowers in his hand.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Feeling alright today?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

God, you hated the awkward tension in the air. It felt like this every time you had a conversation.

“That’s good. Uh, these are for you.” He stuck out the bouquet nervously, hand trembling. You put down your suitcase and stepped closer. A small noise of adoration left as you looked at the flowers, it was all your favorites.

“I may not be able to remember much. But I remembered these were always your favorite.” He let out an awkward laugh.

The last time you told him what flowers you liked was in year five. You took the bouquet from him with hesitant hands, surprised by the gift. Fred swallowed his anxiety before he began to speak again.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude. I just get so frustrated with myself, I don’t want to act like that anymore. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take it out on you, you didn’t deserve it.” He moved to cup his hands around your face, bringing your teary eyes to meet his.

“I promise you I’m going to be better. I swear on everything. I will be better.” He gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead, then pulled you into a hug. 

You held on tightly to his torso, turning the flowers away to keep them from being crushed.

“I love you.” You said into his sweater, tears beginning to fall.

“I love you too. So much.”

tell me what you thought! <3

started thinking abt crazy stranger things theories yesterday night and now i can't stop thinking that Steve will be the one who dies 😭😭😭😭😭 also probably Will & or El. But like, they wouldn't make it so obvious right? so someone else we DON'T EXPECT probably ... idk i'm going nuts

echoes of loss and love

description: you are haunted by memories of your relationship with fred weasley before his death. you feel like you're stuck in a loop, unable to move on when one day, george tells you fred was going to propose.

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader, platonic!george weasley x fem!reader

contains: angst, mentions of the hogwarts war, fred's canon death, survivors guilt.

song rec: all i want by kodaline- "but if you loved me, why did you leave me?"

w.c: 1.8k

an: to whoever wrote that one fic where george dyes his hair blue because he hates that whenever he looks in the mirror he sees fred- count. your. days. thx !!

the morning air was cool and damp, carrying the scent of fresh dew from the burrow. you sat on the edge of the bed, your feet touching the cold wooden floorboards, feeling the weight of the world press down on your shoulders. your eyes scanned the room, lingering on the frayed curtains and the chipped paint on the walls. the familiarity of it all brought a pang of nostalgia and a deep, unshakeable sadness. you had not slept well, as was the norm these days, plagued by dreams that felt more like echoes of a past life than mere nocturnal imaginings.

george lay sprawled across on his own bed on the other side of the room, his chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath. his face was a portrait of peace, untouched by the burdens that you knew he bore in his waking hours. the sight of him there, so much like fred, yet so painfully different, brought a lump to your throat. you remembered the countless nights you had spent in this very room, sharing laughter and secrets with the two of them until the early hours of the morning. the twins had always been inseparable, a unit, a force of nature that could not be divided. but now, fred's side of the room remained cold and untouched aside from your movement, a stark reminder of the gaping hole left in both your heart and the fabric of the weasley family.

you stood up slowly, the floorboards creaking beneath you, and padded over to the window. outside, the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, casting a soft, warm light on the dew-kissed garden. the leaves on the trees were tinged with gold and red, whispering of the approaching autumn. it was a beautiful scene, but the beauty felt hollow, as if the vibrancy of color was only a cruel mockery of the emptiness you felt within. you leaned against the windowsill, your eyes tracing the patterns the light made on the floor.

the guilt was a heavy, constant presence, like a shadow that never left your side. you had been there when the wall exploded, when fred's life had been so brutally extinguished. the sound of the blast still reverberated in your ears, a never-ending echo of the moment that had torn your world apart. his laughter, his warmth, his very essence had been wrenched away from you, leaving nothing but cold, empty space. you could still see the look in his eyes, the flash of surprise and pain, the way his hand had reached out for you as if he could somehow pull you into safety.

for a while, george had been cold towards you, his grief a tangible barrier that you couldn't breach. every time you looked at him, you saw the accusation in his gaze, the unspoken question of why it had been fred and not you. you understood his anger, his pain, but it didn't make the silent treatment any easier to bear. the burden of guilt grew heavier with each passing day, each missed opportunity to apologize or explain, to somehow make it right. but what could you say? there were no words to justify the cruel hand of fate that had taken fred from you both.

you decided to make some tea, hoping the warmth would soothe your soul. the kitchen was quiet, the embers of the fireplace glowing dimly. as you filled the kettle with water, the rusty pipes groaned, reminding you of the burrow's age. the weasley's had lived here for generations, and it was a place filled with love and laughter. now, it felt like a museum dedicated to a happiness that no longer existed. you placed the kettle on the stove and watched as the flame grew, the heat slowly spreading through the metal.

staring at the teapot, you waited for the water to boil. it was a simple task, one that had been done countless times before in this very kitchen. but today, it felt like a monumental effort. every second that ticked by was a reminder of the moments you had lost with fred. the teapot began to whistle, a shrill sound that pierced the silence. you jumped, startled, and hastily turned off the stove. the whistle died down, leaving only the soft hiss of the cooling water. you paused, your hand hovering over the teapot, your eyes welling up with unshed tears. fred had always liked his tea with three lumps of sugar and a dash of milk, just like his mother made it. the thought brought a bittersweet smile to your face.

the door to the kitchen creaked open, and you looked up to see george standing there, his hair a wild mess from sleep. his eyes searched yours, a silent question hanging in the air. for a moment, you felt like you were seeing fred in his place, the same look of curiosity and concern mirrored in his twin's gaze. your heart clenched, and you had to look away, focusing instead on the steaming kettle. "can't sleep?" he asked, his voice thick with the grogginess of early morning.

you nodded, your voice a whisper. "same dreams."

george's eyes softened with understanding. he padded over to the table and pulled out a chair, the legs scraping against the floor. "i know," he said, his voice barely above a murmur. "it's like he's still here, but every time i turn around, he's gone again."

you filled two cups with tea, the warmth of the porcelain comforting against your cold palms. you slid one across the table to him, and he took it with a nod of thanks. "it's just… i can't shake the feeling that i should have done more," you confessed, the words spilling out like a dam breaking. "i should have been able to save him."

george was silent for a long moment, the only sound the clinking of spoons against the sides of the cups as you both added sugar and stirred. "you can't blame yourself," he said finally, his voice gentle. "none of us could have seen that coming. it was war, and fred knew the risks."

you took a sip of your tea, the warmth spreading through you like a comforting embrace. "i know that," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "but it doesn't make it any easier."

george reached across the table and took your hand in his, his grip firm and reassuring. his thumb traced circles on the back of your hand, a silent gesture of comfort. his eyes met yours, and for the first time since the battle, you saw something other than pain and anger in them. there was a glimmer of understanding, a bridge built from shared grief. "you know," he began, his voice low and tentative, "after it happened, i kept thinking about all the times we argued, all the little things that didn't seem to matter. i wish i could take them all back, tell him how much he meant to me."

you nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. "i do too. i wish i could tell him how much i loved him."

george took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. "you know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "fred had plans for after the war."

your heart skipped a beat. plans? what could fred have planned that you didn't know about? "what do you mean?"

george's gaze fell to the table, his thumb still moving in soothing circles on your hand. "he had a ring," he said, his voice barely audible. "he was going to ask you to marry him, after the war. said he couldn't wait any longer to make it official."

a cold shock washed over you. a ring? fred had wanted to marry you? you felt your breath catch in your throat, the reality of what you had lost sinking in even deeper. "what happened to it?" you managed to ask, your voice shaking.

george's eyes searched yours, and then he got up from his chair, leaving his hand on the table. "he hid it," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "he didn't want to carry it with him in case…" his voice trailed off, and you could see the pain etched on his face. he disappeared from the room, leaving you sitting there, the cup of tea cooling in your hand, the words echoing in the silence.

a few moments later, he returned, a small, worn box in his hand. he placed it on the table between you, and you could see his hand tremble as he pushed it towards you. you picked it up, your heart racing. the box was old, the leather cracked and faded, the clasp stiff with disuse. you opened it, and there, nestled in the velvet, was the ring. it was a simple band of gold, with an intricate knot design, the kind that fred had always loved. a small diamond glinted in the early morning light, winking at you like a teardrop frozen in time.

you slid the ring onto your finger, and it fit perfectly, as if it had been made just for you. it was a strange sensation, a warmth that seemed to seep into your very soul, a final gift from fred that you hadn't expected. the weight of it felt right, like a piece of him that you could hold onto forever. you looked up at george, his eyes filled with a mix of pain and hope. "he picked it out himself, " he said, his voice thick with emotion. "he wanted you to know that you were it for him."

you didn't know what to say, so you just sat there, staring at the ring, feeling the warmth of fred's love through the metal. the silence stretched between you, filled with a thousand unspoken words. the sun was now fully up, casting a soft glow through the kitchen window, painting the room in shades of gold and amber. it was a moment that felt both surreal and achingly real, a moment that you knew would be etched into your memory forever.

finally, you found your voice. "thank you," you whispered, your eyes still fixed on the ring. "for telling me. for giving me this."

george nodded, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "you were the best thing that ever happened to him," he said, his voice cracking. "i know he'd want you to have it."

you felt a lump form in your throat, unable to find the words to express your gratitude. instead, you leaned across the table and hugged him, feeling the warmth of his embrace, the comfort of his familiar scent, so much like fred's. it was a bittersweet moment, one that brought both solace and pain.

for a while, you sat there in silence, sipping your tea, the ring feeling like a lifeline to a past you could never quite touch again. but it was a lifeline you were grateful for, a tangible piece of fred that you could hold onto. as you sat with george, you realized that while you would never be able to fill the void left by fred's absence, you had each other. two broken halves of a whole, trying to find a new way to live in a world that had changed irrevocably.

you’re completely mad, you know that?

pair: Fred Weasley x reader

requested by anonymous

I was wondering if you could do a Fred x reader? Where the reader LOVES thunderstorms and the rain and always wants to go dance in the rain with Fred, but Fred is TERRIFIED of the rain and thunderstorms?

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The Gryffindor common room was bustling with the usual chatter and laughter, but Fred Weasley’s attention was solely on the window. His eyes darted nervously to the darkening sky outside, storm clouds rolling in like a heavy blanket over Hogwarts. He chewed on his bottom lip, his fingers tapping out a jittery rhythm on the armrest of his chair.

From across the room, you caught sight of your boyfriend’s restless demeanor. A smile tugged at your lips as you made your way over, your heart doing that familiar flutter at the sight of his fiery hair and the perpetual mischief in his eyes. Except, tonight, the mischief was replaced by a hint of unease.

“Hey, Freddie,” you greeted, plopping down beside him on the couch. You nudged his shoulder gently, trying to pull him from whatever thoughts were clouding his mind. “What’s got you so jumpy?”

Fred glanced at you, and his expression softened immediately. You had that effect on him, like a soothing balm for his anxieties. But tonight, even your presence couldn’t fully chase away the tension. He shifted in his seat, trying to muster a casual tone.

“Nothing much, love. Just... looks like there’s a storm coming.” He gestured vaguely toward the window, where the first raindrops had begun to spatter against the glass.

Your eyes lit up with excitement, completely missing the discomfort in his voice. “Oh, I love thunderstorms! They’re so... alive. Let’s go outside, Freddie! We can dance in the rain!” You were practically bouncing in your seat, already envisioning the feel of cool raindrops on your skin and the sound of thunder rumbling in your ears.

Fred’s eyes widened in alarm. “Outside? Now? But... it’s pouring!” His voice came out higher-pitched than he intended, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “I mean, it’s wet. And cold. And... wet.”

You giggled, your heart swelling with affection for the tall redhead trying to mask his nervousness. You’d always found Fred’s fear of thunderstorms oddly endearing, like a secret vulnerability hidden beneath layers of bravado. But you also knew he’d never willingly admit to being scared. So, you took a different approach.

“Come on, Fred,” you coaxed, standing up and extending your hand to him. “It’ll be fun! Just you and me, dancing in the rain. I’ll keep you safe.” You added the last part with a teasing smile, knowing full well that Fred was usually the one who took care of you.

Fred hesitated, glancing from your outstretched hand to the window, where the rain was now falling in earnest. He didn’t want to disappoint you. He never did. But the idea of stepping out into that storm had his heart pounding for all the wrong reasons.

“Y/N, I’m not sure...” he began, but the hopeful, pleading look in your eyes made his resolve waver. How could he say no to you when you looked at him like that?

With a resigned sigh, Fred took your hand, his larger one engulfing yours. “Alright, alright. But if I catch a cold, you’re the one bringing me soup in bed,” he grumbled, though there was a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

You beamed, pulling him up from the couch and leading him toward the portrait hole. “Deal! Now, come on, before it stops raining!” You practically dragged him through the corridors, laughing at his reluctant shuffling.

As soon as you pushed open the doors to the courtyard, the full force of the storm hit. Rain poured down in sheets, drenching you both instantly. The wind howled, and a crack of thunder rumbled in the distance. You spun around, your face tilted up to the sky, arms spread wide, a picture of pure joy.

Fred stood stiffly at first, his hair plastered to his forehead and his clothes sticking to his skin. He glanced around nervously, half expecting a bolt of lightning to strike at any moment. But then he looked at you, really looked at you, and saw the unbridled happiness in your eyes. You were spinning and laughing, and the sight of you so carefree, so utterly alive, melted away his fears, if only a little.

Tentatively, Fred stepped closer, reaching out to take your hand. You pulled him into a twirl, your laughter ringing out even louder than the storm. Slowly, hesitantly, Fred began to move with you, his initial awkwardness fading as he matched your rhythm.

“You’re getting the hang of it!” you cheered, grinning up at him.

Fred chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re completely mad, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you replied with a shrug, “but you love me anyway.”

Fred’s heart skipped a beat, warmth flooding through him despite the cold rain. He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Yeah, I do,” he admitted softly, his nose brushing against your wet hair. “I really do.”

You smiled, resting your head against his chest. Together, you swayed to the rhythm of the storm, the rain washing away Fred’s fears, at least for now. And as you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the thunder above seemed to echo the steady, comforting beat of Fred’s heart.

Back in the common room, the Gryffindors looked up as the portrait hole swung open, revealing a very wet Fred and you. George took one look at his twin and smirked, raising an eyebrow.

“So, how was your little adventure in the rain?” he asked, barely concealing his amusement.

Fred shrugged, a rare, genuine smile tugging at his lips as he glanced at you. “Not so bad,” he said, pulling you closer. “Not so bad at all.”

The Road to Hallowskun (Fred Weasley x Reader) Part. 1

Takes place during Deathly Hallows part 1, where reader is an Auror in training. After death eaters attack the wedding at the burrow, reader and Fred escape together, on their own, they are on the run, trying to reach their destination, the Hallowskun safehouse.

Reader has a crush on Fred, unmentioned feelings and tension.

Warning for blood!

Edit: I’m sorry I know now that these are pics of George, I just wasn’t paying attention enough while scrolling on Pinterest 😭

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Flash, bright blue and green light shone blindingly in your eyes. A crash sent shards of glass flying towards your face, piercing your skin and shredding it like paper. The tent was a blaze, there was absolute chaos all around you, and the burrow was under attack.

You wish you could say it was the first time you'd been at the Weasley's home as it was set on fire. But the dark lord didn't wait to strike again, you and the order found it wasn't in his nature. Not since he had sunk his fangs into the ministry, not since he had started hunting down Aurors.

You were winded, ears ringing and head banging from the pounding noise. The glass hit you fast, you hardly felt it cut you, and it sent your head sharply to the right. Your vision blurred, and you scrambled to find something, anything in front of you to hold onto. Your hands found a table, your wand still grasped in your hand, knuckles scraped and bleeding. After a breath, you could finally see again, a broken plate and rustled flowers lay before you. Your eyes followed a drop of blood as it fell onto the white tablecloth, red spindling throughout its weaving threads. You wiped your nose, suddenly aware that the skin was splayed open, cartilage exposed.

You removed your hand, red filled your palm, but there wasn't any more time to linger. A scream rang in your ear, and you spun around.

It was Luna, fighting in the arms of a death eater, head locking her, his wand pressed harshly to her temple. They both were staggering backward, as she struggled and writhed to free herself. He was about to apparate.

You couldn't let him, that would ensure her fate, and instantly your wand was in the air, swinging quickly, pointing sharply ahead. You shouted,

"Expelliarmus!"

His wand flew from his hand and shot straight towards you. You caught it just above your head, bringing it down to your foot, where you brought your heel down to snap it in half.

He scowled, almost letting Luna go as his grasp let up trying to reach for his wand. But then he stopped, tightening his grip around her as she almost wriggled free. He locked eyes with you, as his mouth quirked into a smile.

No

You leaped between the two tables in front of you to get to her, but it was too late, he had apparated, and they were both gone.

"Luna," you shuddered.

You began to look around frantically, for Luna, for anyone, she was misted into thin air and you weren't sure who else was gone.

The twins caught your eye immediately, they were by the entrance to the tent, dueling with two death eaters. They were holding their own, but a third was starting to approach, flanking them from behind.

Without rhyme or reason, you were bolting towards them. You pushed a table out of your way, striding past explosive spells that nearly knocked you off your feat. And one almost did, before you deflected it just centimeters from your already gushing bleeding face, you began to feel lightheaded again, but kept steady, reaching the Weasley boys in seconds.

"Fred, George!" waving your wand with vigor, you shot a sharp ray of red light towards the black smokey figure perusing them.

The death eater was instantly shooting through the side of the tent, ripping open a hole in the canvas. Your head was on a swivel, looking around like a jittery animal, teeth gritted, and brow furrowed furiously. You scanned your surroundings, the boys were still slashing their wands at the two death eaters, barely catching their offensive spells. Though, George had looked back to watch you, his eyes wide and panicked. You noticed his ear had started to bleed again, blood running down his neck onto the collar of his shirt.

Fred's wand flourished particularly spectacularly, bright orange sparks spiraled out of his wand and exploded into a yellow light that spun one of the death eaters in the air.

He smiled, and gasped.

"Well done, Freddie," George exclaimed, shouting to push and break through the static crowded noise.

George followed his brothers lead, and flourished his wand even more wildly, sending a bright blue light straight to the heart of the other death eater. At once, she seized up and fell to the ground.

"Better done, Georgie," the boys beamed at each other, and a part of you was inclined to smile.

You almost relaxed, until a hand abruptly came down on your shoulder from behind.

You whisked around, raising your wand, but found it was Remus, sweaty and cut up. He looked worse than you probably did, which you didn't want to think about right now. But he was a pleasant surprise. He was gasping, and in a hurry.

Before he could get to it though, his mouth fell into a horrified frown.

"God, y/n," His eyes drooped, concerned. "You need to get out of here, now,"

"I can't just leave. The others-"

"Will be fine. Take Fred with you," he exhaled.

"But George-"

"Tonks will be with him," he assured.

You relaxed a bit, feeling the calm his presence provided. You nodded at him, looking around, attempting to grasp what was about to happen.

"What about you?" you asked, horribly worried that he'd end up helping people to death if he could.

He smiled, "I'm going to the same place you are, in time," his smile faltered.

Alone, he was going alone.

He pushed you back towards the boys, "Go, now," he snapped, you locked eyes before walking back and into Fred.

You weren't sure you'd see Remus alive again.

Fred grabbed your arm, and you turned to face him, ready to grab his hand and apparate as soon as you could, but he stopped, his face turning white as he looked at you.

He was staring right at your nose and your left cheek, his eyes unwavering.

"What?" you blurted, raising your hand to touch the spot again, and you felt the blood, still wet. You understood, but said nothing, he swallowed.

"Take my hand," you shouted. But he hesitated, looking over at his brother.

"Tonks is coming, George will go with her," he looked back at you, frowning slightly, then back at his twin.

"Georgie," he called, and they nodded at one another, a glimmer in both their eyes, they were afraid of the same thing.

"Freddie," his gaze snapped to yours, "My hand," and he immediately intertwined his digits with yours, you felt the frayed ends of his suit jacket tickle your wrist.

Now, time was bending, and space flipped inside out, your skin strained under the pressure of fourth dimension defying magic. You could practically feel the muscle in your face tearing, already exposed from the attack. Freds other hand came to grasp you, fingers melding into the fabric of your clothing as he tried to pull you in tighter. You knew where to go, but also knew the death eaters would expect you all immediately, so you had to think of a starting point. Panic overtook you as the two of you spun around faster and faster, gravity pulling you together into a hot and frenzied mess. Then came the busiest, crowded, most confusing place you could think of. The London Underground.

In a second, you appeared in a station, feet stumbling backward on the tile floor as a train zoomed pass your noses, or what was left of yours.

Fred didn't let go of your hand and pulled you toward him so he could see your face.

His hands went to gently cup your cheeks, he scowled, flinching when you winced at the touch of his fingertips.

"You're still bleeding," he stammered.

"Yes, we need to keep moving," you grabbed his hand and started dragging him onto the train car.

"But, your nose," he came closer to you as you sat down in the corner, inspecting the area of your cheek.

"I'll be fine,"

"I know a charm," he blurted, his grip on his wand tightened, his knuckles white and fingers scarlet.

"There isn't enough time,"

"You're joking, you'll bleed out before we get to the safehouse," he sat next to you, bringing his wand up and focusing on your wound.

"Fred, the muggles," You whispered, noticing the few people at the other end of the car. The train was moving quickly, screeching as it turned a corner.

"They won't notice. Hardly observant, muggles," he smirked, but your vision started to blur again, and you decided to give in.

You didn't protest, letting him cup your jaw, slowly pointing his wand at your cheek, he began.

"Ferula," the word sounded like a cooling bandage, warm light radiated from his wand and onto your cheek. Your pain quickly soothed, and you could start to see clearly again.

Freds face was more defined now, his nose pointed and flaring as he watched a white bandage appear over your cheek and nose.

"Better?" his voice filled your ears, as the screeching of the train diminished.

You nodded, feeling the bandage with your fingers, the blood had stopped gushing, dried bits of it rested on your chin.

"That was risky, we're not safe yet," you readjusted in your seat, gripping your wand and surveyed the train again. There was no telling if death eaters had followed you here, but there was no sign of them yet.

"You looked horrible darling, couldn't handle looking at another gaping hole in someone's face after George," he joked, though the statement still rang true. You didn't need a mirror to know it was bad, you just couldn't stop to heal yourself yet, not if this wasn't the last of your wounds. And George, he was just attacked weeks ago, Freds eyes were glossy, his hands fidgeting with his jacket. He was worried about him.

"But I look better now, right?" you teased him a bit, trying to lift the weight of everything. He smiled at you.

"Good as new,"

You smiled back.

"George is gonna be okay,"

"I know, he always is," he sighed. You weren't sure if it was just some magical superstition, but it seemed the twins were connected, like that 'twin telepathy' people always talk about. Whenever Fred was upset about something, George was in the dumps too. You hoped whatever connection they had, was reassuring Fred that George was alive.

"Where are we love?" Fred asked, looking around and loosening his collar and tie, sweat dribbled down the side of his face.

"Muggle train system in London, I think we’ve just left Piccadilly Circus,”

He stared at you, puzzled.

“It’s a… really busy area in the city,” 

“Any idea where we’re headed? I don’t suppose you’ve got a wonderfully planned set of directions for us to get to hallowskun. Or are you just so brilliant and responsible that you do?” 

Hallowskun was the spooky name of the safe house, tucked away in the Scottish countryside. What made you laugh was it really wasn’t spooky at all. Quite cute actually.

You chuckled, “Very sweet, but no. I don’t,” you frowned, a bit disappointed in yourself. 

“Then we’re on our own,”

“Yeah,” you sighed, but Fred's hand reached for yours, and you felt a bit better, squeezing his digits.

“The bandage makes you look pretty wicked you know,” he chimes, “More badass than any of those lousy spell eating death eaters could ever hope to look,”  he beamed at you, eyes crinkled into a smile. They were brown and soft, kind. There was a cut just above his brow, red and deep. He was such a beautiful boy, you wanted to protect him. Didn’t matter if he was six feet tall, or exceptional at magic...

“Really?” you feigned surprise, he nodded.

But then, quite loudly, the train car doors slid open, and two men in all black boarded. Their boots thumped, booming as they stepped further into the cart. They were hooded, eyes barely visible but surrounded by black.

They may have very well been London punks, but the second man turning his head towards you on a swivel allerted you immediately. It was Walden Macnair, a devout follower of the Dark Lord, you remembered him from the battle at the Ministry. And it seemed he remembered you as well.

His eyes widened, and he grimaced. You squeezed Fred's hand, and he flinched, quickly looking ahead and noticing Macnair striding towards you.

“Legit?” Fred gasped, tugging on your hand.

“Yeah,” you nodded, and before Macnair threw his first spell, you were both dashing out of the cart.

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Let me know if anyone is interested in a part two to this, I really enjoy the endless possibilities of the Harry Potter universe and would love to write some sweet sweet "there's only one bed" fanfiction goodness lol.

Thanks for reading!