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Chapter Text

Fred had never been wanting for companionship. Having six siblings would do that to a bloke. Never was he alone, really. Especially not since he had a built in best friend in the shape of his reflection. George and him never really fought about anything because they generally just agreed on everything. They were completely in sync, whether it be for their dreams of opening up a joke shop or getting one over on their siblings or classmates. Not since the moment he’d been born had he been alone. That was the beautiful thing about having such a large family: he’d never feel lonely. 

Maybe that’s why he decided to help out the pathetic looking fourth year who was standing outside an empty train car looking despondent and like the world was coming to an end.

He nudged George’s shoulder, interrupting their track towards the sweets trolley before the arseholes called Slytherins took all the good snacks. He nodded towards the kid and George instantly understood, his eyes lighting up as he affected a cheery light. That was one thing that nobody, not even the rest of their family really knew about their ol’ brother George: he was quite the sourpuss, not that he’d ever admit it. Smiling didn’t really come naturally to him, whereas it was rare not to see a smile on Fred’s face. 

With twin smiles on their faces and long strides towards the bloke in horribly distressed muggle clothing, Fred promised himself to make the train journey as comfortable for everyone as possible. 

“”Ello,” Fred said in an old-timey conductor voice he once heard in a radio show his dad used to listen to before it got taken off the air for low ratings. 

“Listen up here!” George said, mimicking a train whistle. 

The kid looked at them with a shocked expression, his wide green eyes hiding behind a pair of even wider spectacles. 

“We’re doing a survey for the Hogwarts train,” Fred began.

“Nasty business, soliciting,” George added. 

“But it’s the only way to put clothes on the table-”

“-and food on our backs!” George finished. 

Fred was delighted in the bemused expression of the bloke. The tears and frustrated flush on his face had disappeared and were exchanged with a look of utter confusion. It was quite cute, really, if Fred were into that sort of thing. (he was, he really very much was)

“Um, sorry,” the guy said in a meek voice, barely audible over the sound of the train moving along the tracks. 

“Whatever for?” Fred asked, dropping his accent. 

“Quite right,” George said, draping an arm across Fred’s shoulders. “We’re the ones bothering you.” 

“I-I don’t have any money,” the bespectacled boy said. Said bespectacled boy pushed up his spectacles with the knuckle of his index finger, and Fred followed the motion to find bruising on the kid’s wrist. 

“Neither do we,” George said, sighing with all the seriousness of a broke wizard in the same existence as an entire trolley filled with cakes and jelly beans and chocolate made out of frogs. 

“Oh, wait, Forge, the frogs are made out of chocolate, not the other way around!” Fred exclaimed, looking at his brother. George nodded in understanding. He leaned towards the guy, who jumped a little. 

“He gets it messed up quite frequently, I’m afraid. No idea what to do with this one.” 

“You’re stuck with me. After all, without me, you’d never make your quota.” 

“Quota?” the kid asked. The frustration was appearing back on his face. 

“We’re solicitors, didn’t we say that already?” 

The kid looked at the cabin door, as if he would take his chances on it rather than staying here. He then shifted from one foot to the next, worrying his lip. Fred couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he was, all full of nerves and confusion. 

“Listen, if this is about me knowing about your secret room behind the tapestry with the chicken heads…” the kid trailed off, but it was enough for both Fred and George to look at each other in surprise. That had been their contraband room for as long as they could remember, and then Fred remembered two years ago when they had found a hyperventilating kid hidden behind a crate of butterbeer crying about being kicked out of the library. 

“Oh, you’re Monty Potter’s brother, yeah? Our brothers are friends,” Fred said. Instead of being relieved at their shared traits, the mysterious Potter twin only looked resigned to whatever fate he believed he was being subjected to. To put him at ease, Fred bowed with a flourish of his arms. He saw out of the corner of his eye George following suit. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, fellow twin. I am Fred Weasley.” 

“George Weasley, to be sure.” 

They both stood up and waited for applause, but they were disappointed. However, Fred could only smile when Potter’s face was flushed. Fred wasn’t sure if it was out of embarrassment or surprise, but it didn’t matter when Potter bowed awkwardly and introduced himself. 

“Oh, er, Harry Potter. Nice to, uh, meet you?” he finished with a shrug, looking more unsure of himself than annoyed. Fred would take it happily. Usually, he found three different groups of people: those who were completely annoyed by his and his brother’s antics, like his family and Slytherins (usually) and teachers. The other group consisted of those who got it, like Lee and most of the quidditch team. The third group was Fred’s favorite: the ones who didn’t get it but still tried. They were rare, and Fred cherished them whenever they cropped up. 

He’d be honest with himself about the fact that he often forgot about the fact that Monty Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, had a twin brother. Being a twin himself, Fred was quite annoyed with himself about this, but Harry and Monty’s relationship was quite the opposite of his and George’s. He and George were best friends; basically the same person, depending on who you asked (if you asked their mother, they didn’t have different personalities at all). 

Fred didn’t remember a single time Harry and Monty had interacted with each other since they had first started attending Hogwarts, which normally Fred wouldn’t find weird. He knew there was another set of twins in Ron’s year and he never paid attention to them. But since Monty was Ron’s best friend and often hung around the Burrow during holidays, to never hear Harry’s name uttered was strange. 

Especially when it turned out that he was one of Fred’s favorite kinds of people. Especially since Harry seemed to exude loneliness through every pore of his body, desperation wafting off his aura, if Fred were the kind of person to believe in auras (he wasn’t George, for Merlin’s sake!). Being a twin, Harry shouldn’t have ever had to understand what loneliness consisted of. 

“Right, well now that introductions are good and done,” George started, but Fred held a hand to his chest with a look. He wasn’t quite done, and George, despite the bags under his eyes and the frustration in the lines of his forced smile, understood at once.

“Well, Harry, can I call you Harry?” Fred asked. With a shy nod, Fred continued. “Thank you, Harry, it’s always good to be able to call people by their first names, don’t you agree, Gred?”

“Oh, I actually disagree, Forge, I think it’s despicable to call someone by their given name. Feels rather like I’m taking it, really.” 

“And it’s not even yours!” 

“And it’s not even mine! Exactly, chum, you agree!” 

“Indubitably,” Fred said, fixing his nonexistent collar. Harry mouthed the words ‘what the fuck’ and Fred only smiled wider since he was still standing there. 

“Forge, mate, I think we’ve confused this poor fella here. What do you say we get on with it?” George asked, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Fred nodded succinctly. 

“Apologies, brother. I am incredibly obtuse and forgetful. You see, Harry, we’re doing a survey on everyone in this train to make sure they’re satisfied to their utmost satisfaction. On a scale from one to being cannibalized, how satisfied are you right now?” 

“Contemplating whether or not I should transfigure a carving knife,” Harry mumbled. 

“Do you hear that, George! A fellow consumer of human flesh! It is so rare these days, I almost contemplated putting an advert in the Daily Prophet to find like-minded people,” Fred said. 

“Unfortunately, the last time we did that, we had to eat him,” George added. 

“We had to cut short our sojourn into the delicacies of the flesh. You understand,” Fred said, leaning in. He noticed from this close how green Harry’s eyes were behind his scratched lenses. It felt like looking into genuine emeralds. But those striking green eyes weren’t enough to hide from the fact that his right eye was bruised. It was hard to see on his dark skin, especially since it looked faded, but Fred could see it and something inside of him twisted. 

“Cannibalism was outlawed in 1025 after wizards figured out that ingesting human flesh made it easier to cast dark magic. It was supposed to be outlawed before that, but the dark wizards kept assassinating the ministers who proposed it.” The words came out of his mouth almost involuntarily with the speed he said them. 

“Is that so?” Fred asked softly, still only inches from his face. Harry flushed and nodded quickly. He pushed up his glasses ever so gently and Fred noticed the slight wince he gave when it pushed up against his bruise. Fred hummed and stood up to match his brother’s height. 

“So if you’re cannibalism levels of happy, why aren’t you in a compartment?” Fred asked. Harry blinked as if the questioning wasn’t exactly what Fred was trying to ask. He looked towards the compartment they were standing in front of and sighed dejectedly. 

“No reason,” he mumbled. Fred looked at George, who gave a slight shrug. Fred looked back and smiled widely. 

“Well, good! That means you can join George and I!” 

Harry looked up sharply. Somehow, this was the most shocked he’d looked during their entire conversation. 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-” 

“Nah, it’ll be boring without you!” Fred said, barreling through whatever excuse Harry would try to come up with. He reached out to pat his shoulder and quickly retracted when he gave a full body flinch. Fred rocked back on his heels and gave what he hoped would be a reassuring smile.

“Come along,” George said, all pretenses of happy go lucky gone from his face. “Our friends are idiots, it’d be good to have someone smart.” 

“Angelina isn’t dumb,” Fred countered. George hummed in contemplation. 

“I never said they were dumb, I said they’re idiots. There’s a difference. For instance, Freddy and I are the village clowns. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” 

Harry tilted his head. “Wait, wizards have clowns?” 

Fred, who didn’t know that muggles had clowns, just shrugged. Fred and George started walking towards their compartment with Harry tagging along behind them with a contemplative look on his face. Fred heard him say under his breath, “I wonder if the library has any books.” 

Fred looked away and tried to suppress a little smile. “Cute,” he mumbled. George only scoffed beside him. 

When they got to the compartment, Fred was dismayed to find that the trolley witch had already gifted their presence. He all but collapsed in his seat next to Angelina and made sure to leave room for Harry while still being as dramatic as he could. 

“I cannot believe Esmerelda besmirched me so!” Fred exclaimed, resting a hand against his forehead in a rather good estimation of a damsel in distress. Harry sat next to him but he sat as closely to the window and made himself as small as he possibly could. Fred was surprised how good he was at it. 

“The trolley witch breathed a sigh of relief when she opened the compartment to find that you weren’t here,” Lee said as he bit into a chocolate frog. George sat next to him and took a pumpkin pasty that had fallen to the floor. 

“That’s too bad, I was looking forward to my best man speech,” George remarked. 

“Esmerelda and I are going to elope, brother,” Fred reminded him. “And if anyone’s invited to our elopement, it would be her devilishly handsome father.” 

“The woman who runs the snack trolley is named Claire,” Harry said softly. His face was scrunched up in confusion. “She’s an orphan like m- er, nevermind.”

Everyone looked at Harry in surprise. Angelina, Katie, Alicia, and Lee then turned to Fred with a raised eyebrow, as if they knew he was the one to invite him and not George. That’s well- yeah, obviously. 

“Guys, this is Harry. Harry, this is the guys,” Fred introduced, leaning over Angelina to steal a licorice wand. He snuck a chocolate frog under his sleeve and plopped it in Harry’s lap when he wasn’t looking. Harry jumped again and looked at Fred with questioning eyes, but Fred only bit into his candy. 

“Hi,” Alicia said with a wave. She was currently braiding Katie’s hair and she had to put a strand in her mouth to wave. It had purple streaks in it, and Fred already knew that McGonagall would throw a fit. The others said their hellos and Harry shyly waved back. 

“How do you know Fred’s fiance?” Lee asked. Rigor, his tarantula, was in his little glass cage beside him. Katie and Alicia were on the floor surrounded by candy wrappers and discarded robes and jackets. George and Lee (and Rigor, sorry) were on the opposite bench while Fred, Harry, and Angelina were on the other. 

“Claire’s a lesbian,” Harry said as he slowly opened the chocolate frog box. “Sorry to burst your wedding planning, but, hey, at least with your blues you’ll only have to worry about something old, new, and borrowed.”

Fred looked at Harry in mysticism. How had he never noticed him before? Alicia cackled. “I don’t think we’ll have to worry, Harry. Looks like he’s set his eyes on someone new.” 

Fred blushed and looked away from Harry. He heard George whisper to Lee, “Starry Eyes Weasley strikes again.” Fred threw the rest of his licorice wand at him. 

“So, Harry,” Angelina said, looking over Fred at Harry. “What house are you in?” 

Harry looked up with wide eyes as if he was surprised that someone was actually asking him a question. His nimble fingers stopped toying with the chocolate frog box and he worried his upper lip. 

“Ravenclaw,” he said so quietly it was kind of hard to hear over the tracks. He looked down with a flush on his cheeks. “I’m not very smart, though.” 

“Smart’s overrated,” George said, the liar. They both knew Fred was the dumbass in the equation. George was the brains and Fred was the brave. 

“Ravenclaw’s cool. I’ve been in the common room before, it’s so cozy,” Katie said. She was drawing on her trainers. Fred thought he could make out a poorly drawn niffler on the toe. 

“Oh, yeah, you dated that Ravenclaw bloke last year. Whatever happened to him?” Alicia asked Katie. 

“He kept trying to correct my homework. And not in a sexy tutor kind of way, either. And not in a cool, generous way in which he’d do it for me. I think he just wanted to use the red ink his mum got him for Christmas.” 

Fred laughed with the others. Katie had the worst luck with guys. 

“I still say your tryst with that one seventh year Hufflepuff was your best work,” Fred said. Katie groaned with the memory as the others laughed. 

“Snape caught us behind Hagrid’s hut. I still have no idea why he was out there, not even Hagrid was out there!”

“The story is worth the fifty points Snape took from Gryffindor,” Lee chuckled. 

“Says you, I still can’t look at Snape without feeling the need to check my blouse to make sure it’s buttoned,” Katie pouted. 

The laughter eventually petered off and conversations split up. Angelina was trying to pop jellybeans across the compartment into George’s mouth but they weren’t very successful. Lee was trying to persuade Katie and Alicia to pet Rigor. Harry was nibbling on his chocolate frog while looking out the window at the passing countryside. 

Fred never had much luck with pretty boys (or girls, for that matter). While George had already kissed his fair share of girls, Fred hadn’t so much had a talking phase. Sure, there was the peck with Alicia when they were twelve, but that was before Alicia came out as a lesbian and Fred decided kissing was gross. Ah, twelve. Good times. Way too many detentions. 

“Right, Georgie?” Fred asked. George gave him a thumbs up and the others dutifully ignored him. They all knew that Fred and George couldn’t really read each other's minds, but it made others wary of them. Freak people out enough and they’ll leave you alone, or better, they’ll turn you into a cryptid. 

Fred chuckled and turned towards the window and found Harry’s eyes on him. They were so big and green, even behind those scratched glasses of his. 

“It’s a twin thing,” Fred said reflexively, but he realized his mistake when Harry’s face fell and he looked away. 

“Right,” Harry said dejectedly. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“What’s Fred done now?” Angelina asked before pumping her fist because George caught what looked like a vomit flavored bean. Fred suspected he was right because George’s face scrunched up in disgust. 

“Said something stupid, as always,” Fred said with a chuckle.

“No, you didn’t, sorry,” Harry said in a rushed voice. His eyebrows were drawn together. “It’s not your fault that Monty and I don’t get along.” 

“You know Monty? Monty Potter?” Katie asked. “We’re in the same quidditch team.” 

“Kate,” George said in a soft voice. “That’s his brother.” 

Katie’s face reddened and she made an ‘o’ with her mouth. “Oh, sorry! I forgot- er, nevermind.” 

Harry shrugged awkwardly and his attention remained focused on his lap, chocolate frog abandoned in the box. He didn’t speak for the rest of the train ride. But the others didn’t really notice. Harry was able to sink into the background and make everyone forget about him. 

It made Fred realize with clarity why he had never really noticed him before, even when he was confronted with him in his fourth year- it was exactly what Harry had wanted. 

Eventually the train stopped and everyone made their way towards the exit, but Fred noticed Harry hovering near the compartment he found him by. George, ever present of his twin, noticed Fred neglecting to walk with them and held back with him.

Fred and George watched as Harry opened the train compartment and sighed dejectedly. Curious, Fred peeked his head in the compartment and found what he assumed was Harry’s belongings strewn across the room. Papers and robes were torn up, quills were broken, and ink quills were spilled on books and clothes. 

Harry wasn’t outraged or even surprised; he was just throwing things back into his trunk like it wasn’t a big deal. 

“What the hell happened?!” Fred exclaimed, rushing in. He knelt to the ground and picked up a first year charms textbook that had graffiti written all over it. The word ‘squib’ was written in blocky capitalized letters. 

“It’s fine, most of the belongings I need are in my bag. This is just decoy,” Harry said with no emotion. 

“Who did this?” George asked from the doorway. Harry only shrugged noncommittally and stuffed a bundle of shredded robes in the scuffed and worn down looking trunk. The trunk had been engraved but someone had scratched out the initials to the point where it wasn’t legible. 

“Was it the same people who gave you that black eye?” Fred couldn’t help but ask. Harry looked up sharply, his piercing green eyes meeting his.

“You’re going to be late if you stick around,” Harry mumbled, looking away after a long moment. He picked up the last of his broken belongings and closed his trunk. Fred gingerly handed him the chocolate frog box that was on the floor beside him. Harry looked at it for a few seconds before taking it and holding onto it. 

“Does this happen often?” George asked once Harry and Fred had exited the compartment. 

“It’s fine,” Harry said. Fred shared a look with George. They followed Harry down the long stretch of the train and were surprised when he didn’t exit like they were supposed to, and instead moved towards the train car that held the conductor. 

When they were moving from car to car, Fred felt the breeze on his skin and it made him shiver. He saw Hagrid placing tiny eleven year olds into boats and other years entering horseless carriages. Harry looked back at them before opening the car door and rolled his eyes. He turned back to the door and pushed it open. Fred and George followed him, but George was frowning. 

“Isn’t this door usually locked?” he asked. Harry didn’t answer and instead took them to a door that had a bronze plaque that read ‘kitchens.’ They entered and it was a sad sight for a kitchen. It wasn’t so much a kitchen as a storage room with a single sink and a couple of cupboards. But a woman was rummaging through the cupboard all the same. She looked at them when she heard the door open. 

“Pumpkin!” the woman exclaimed. She had short curly blonde hair that curled at her ears and she was wearing deep burgundy robes with tiny mushrooms embroidered all over. Her earrings had glass beads in different colors and dangled all the way to her collarbones. 

“Hi, Claire,” Harry said softly. She smiled widely at him before squinting at Fred and George. 

“These boys bothering you?” she asked viciously. Harry looked back at them and cocked his head. He looked like a kitten. 

“I don’t know.” 

Well that just can’t do. Fred stepped forward towards the illustrious Claire and bowed deeply. George did the same. 

“It’s an honor to meet you, oh magnanimous Trolley Witch!” 

Claire sighed and muttered ‘dear Merlin’ under her breath. She opened another cupboard and got out a worn leather satchel. There were scuffs and scratches all over it. She handed it to Harry.

“Thank you for keeping it safe,” Harry said. Claire smiled warmly at him. She ruffled his already messy hair and made him grin sheepishly. 

“Now that you have access to owls, I expect a letter or two, kid,” Claire said seriously. She gave Fred and George a frown before leaning towards Harry to whisper something. Fred couldn’t make it out, but whatever it was, it made Harry grin shyly. She stood up and patted him on the shoulder. 

“Best be off, pumpkin.” She looked at him and George. “You two better keep your hands to your own belongings, alright? I may be a squib but that doesn’t mean I’m not handy with knives.” 

True to her word, she brandished a knife out of seemingly nowhere and twirled the handle in her hand. This was not helping Fred’s fantasy of marrying her. 

“Of course not, m’lady,” Fred said, puffing up his chest. “George and I have only the best interests at heart with Harry!” 

George scoffed to his side and Fred pushed him into the doorway. Harry looked at them, unimpressed. He fastened his bag on his shoulder and turned to the Trolley… lady. 

“Bye, Claire.”

She ruffled his hair again and they walked away. Fred strided up to Harry’s side once they were out of the car and towards the exit. George straggled behind but kept a steady pace. 

“You’re friends with the Trolley Witch,” Fred observed. Harry was putting his Ravenclaw tie on.

“Not a witch,” Harry said. His voice wasn’t as high pitched as Fred might have assumed. Monty’s voice was a lot higher. And posher. Harry had a more common accent and frankly, it really fit him.

“How’d you meet her?” he asked. Harry dug in his satchel and took out a robe. He had to take off his bag to put it on, and Fred placed out his hand to hold it, but Harry put the strap between his teeth instead. Robe on, he put the bag back on. 

“Met her in second year,” was all he supplied. He didn’t say anything else as they walked towards the gate. The first years had already gone off on their little boats herded by Hagrid and most of the carriages had taken off. There were only a couple left.

Before getting into a carriage, Harry held out a hand a few inches away from the carriage and let out a small giggle as his hand moved. 

“Uh, you alright?” Fred asked. Harry didn’t pay him any attention as he petted the air. After a few moments, Harry got into the carriage and they followed. 

“Thestrals,” Harry explained. “I can’t see them but obviously they’re there.” 

“Thestrals?” George asked. “Aren’t they omens of death?” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “That’s a myth that was created by Wilson Friederkson in the early 1820s to justify his exploitation of them. They aren’t omens of death. It isn’t their fault that they’re only visible to those who have seen death.” 

He was such a nerd. Fred could listen to him talk all day. 

The carriage ride didn’t take long at all and before Fred could convince Harry to talk more about thestrals, they were at the castle. Harry got out without another word but he could see him out the window petting the air again. George leaned to him and whispered, “Starry Eyes Weasley.” Fred elbowed him. 

“He’s so cute!” Fred whispered to him. George chuckled. He nodded towards the window where Harry had already walked off towards the castle. “Your cute boyfriend is leaving.” But before Fred could chase him, George grabbed his arm. 

“Don’t forget what this year is really about, Freddy.” Fred gave him a look. 

“Crushing Bagman and getting our money back is the top priority, never fret, brother. But that doesn’t mean I can’t dabble in the art of love.” 

“Just as long as it doesn’t conflict with our experiments.” 

“Who knows? Maybe Harry can help with our budding joke shop and our revenge on Bagman.”

“Mm hmm,” George said, unconvinced. Fred huffed and dragged them out of the carriage. 

“Harry, wait up!” Fred shouted.

Chapter Text

Trying to console an aggrieved Katie was like convincing his mum that he and George were innocent. They were all bummed about quidditch, especially since almost none of them but Angelina was actually allowed to enter. But he and George were working on an ageing potion that he’d be surprised if it didn’t work. But even if it didn’t, it’d still be a laugh. 

Fred was in the library trying to figure the potion out, as they needed an alternative for ashwagandha, when he spotted Harry at a table near the law treatises. Fred grabbed a random book off the shelf and walked over to him. He sat in the seat opposite Harry and dug his nose in the book, ignoring the dust that exploded all over his face. 

“Can I help you?” Harry asked. Fred held up a finger and made a show of turning the page. 

“Excuse me, you’re interrupting my studies.” He saw out of the corner of his eye Harry huff out of annoyance and go back to his reading. Well, that just won’t do. 

Fred plopped the book on the table and relished in the glare Harry gave him. Fred sniffed with self-importance like Percy had the habit of doing, and turned another page. Harry tightened his grip on his quill and went back to writing down notes. Fred noticed that the quill was taped together and that the tip was a little bent. It was making his notes wobbly and splotchy. 

Fred hadn’t had the opportunity to seek the other boy out lately. Fred and George had been busy trying to come up with ways to trick the goblet and also convince Ludo Bagman to give him their money. But sometimes (a lot of the time) he couldn’t resist looking at him at the Ravenclaw table during meals. 

Harry always sat by himself. No matter if it was during meals or in the library, Harry was always alone. It was such a contrast to himself, who was more often than not always with George or another one of his friends. The only reason he had gone to the library without George was because he was busy writing a very scathing letter to Bagman. They suspected he’d blocked Hogwarts owls. 

Fred continued making unnecessary and annoying noises, but Harry ignored them all. He was so quiet, even the scratch of his quill against the parchment didn’t make a sound. Fred shut his book very loudly. 

“You’re disrupting my work,” Fred says pointedly. Harry finally looked up at him with an outraged expression. 

“I’ll leave then, Jesus,” Harry muttered, picking up his things. Fred grabbed Harry’s notes and suppressed a smile at Harry’s indignant cry. He recognized it as word for word passages from the fourth year transfiguration textbook. 

“How come you’re copying everything down?” Fred asked. Harry tried to snatch the papers back but Fred put his arm high up in the air. Harry crossed his arms with a scowl. 

“None of your business,” he said, but his face was flushed with something Fred didn’t think was anger. He had the look that Fred had seen often enough on his brothers faces. 

“If you don’t have your own copy, you could always use geminio,” Fred said, handing the papers back. Harry huffed and stuffed it in his satchel, along with his quill and ink pot.

“That spell doesn’t work on Hogwarts books.” He spared a look at Fred before scoffing. “Enjoy your three hundred year old treatise on outlawed sex rituals.” 

As Harry walked away, Fred looked down and actually looked at the book he’d randomly picked out. Oops. 

Later that night, Fred and George sandwiched Ron during dinner. 

“What do you want,” Ron said with a frown. Fred grabbed the spoon out of his hand, halting his inhalation of curry. George put an arm around him. 

“Why do you assume,” Fred started.

“That we would want something,” George continued. 

“Dear brother?” They both finished. Ginny was looking at them from down the table with a suspicious expression. Fred winked at her. Ron tried to shrug them off him but George held on tight and Fred dug his elbow into Ron’s stomach. 

“Because you two are menaces,” Ron said. George cooed. 

“Do you hear that, Forge? Ron looooooves us.” 

“He knows us so well,” Fred mocked. Ron tried to get out of their embrace once more but they only held on stronger, trapping him in his seat. 

“What do you guys want?” Hermione Granger asked from the opposite bench. Monty was smiling into his dinner. He was so different from Harry, which made sense since they were fraternal. But Fred missed the frustrated reaction he knew Harry would give him if he saw this display. He resisted the urge of turning his head around to glance at the Ravenclaw table. 

“We require your fourth year transfiguration textbook,” Fred told his brother. Ron startled in his seat. 

“Actually, we require all your fourth year textbooks,” George corrected. Fred looked at him and George just gave him a look as if to say ‘trust me.’ Fred did, implicitly. 

“And you’re threatening me, why?” 

“Because it’s fun?” Fred said. They allowed Ron to push them away, and Fred bumped into the Longbottom boy, who gave him a scared glance before scooting away. 

“Why do you need his textbooks?” Hermione Granger asked. Fred ignored her and turned to his little brother.

“Let us borrow them and we won’t tell Mum you pushed Ginny on the stairs and sent her to the infirmary.”

“I didn’t push Ginny!” Ron exclaimed. Ginny looked over at them. 

“Well we’ll be sure not to tell Mum that you did if you give us your books,” George assured him. 

“What do I get for this?” Ginny asked them after the chatter of the long table. She was a few people away so Fred wasn’t sure how she was listening so well, but he learned long ago not to question the capabilities of his little sister. 

“Ginny, tell them I didn’t push you!” Ron shouted to her. Ginny’s face morphed into a pout. 

“Then why does my arm hurt?” she asked. George cackled.

“Yeah, Ron! You’re the menace, hurting your innocent baby sister!” Fred exclaimed. Ron stood up from the bench. 

“I have the worst fucking family in the world,” Ron groaned. He rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he bit out. “I’ll go grab them. ‘Mione? Monty? You joining?”

Fred and George waved a hand at his little brother as they watched him and his friends walk out of the Great Hall. Fred turned to his brother. 

“Thank you.” George just sighed and took a sip of pumpkin juice.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll mention this in my best man speech.” Fred jostled George in the shoulder and took a bite of Ron’s curry. He snuck a glance at Harry and felt his heart stutter when Harry met his eyes. Harry quickly looked away and Fred couldn’t help but grin. He turned back to his stolen dinner. 

“I’ll hold you to that.” 

*

It took a while before Fred finally found Harry again in the library. It was getting annoying to drag all five textbooks with him, so he was happy when he spotted his pretty crush bundled up in a corner table on the second floor near the pureblood lineage books. He was tickled to find him near the Prewett section. 

“Trying to find out more about my family?” Fred asked, taking a seat. Harry stilled but didn’t bother looking at him. When Harry didn’t ask, Fred pointed towards the bookshelf. “My mum’s a Prewett, you know.” 

“Good for you,” Harry said sarcastically. Fred nodded as if he were serious. 

“I happen to think so. I’m pretty sure my great aunt sent in all these books. Not much room in her one room flat and her thirteen cats.” Harry’s mouth twitched. 

“My neighbor has a shit ton of cats, too. Any of hers named Mittens?”

“No, but I’m fairly certain one is named Gregorian Abernanthy IV.” Harry’s face scrunched up. Fred wanted so badly to squish it further. 

“The minister who died while eating a thirty-three layer trifle?”

“They’re all named after former ministers. Percy, that’s my brother, made her promise she’d name one after him when he was eight.”

“Did she?” Harry asked. Fred placed his chin in his hand. 

“She was a stubborn woman, not even Percy could wear her down. Anyway, enough about him, this is about you!” He took out his bag and placed the five books on the table. Harry eyed them warily.

Fred waited for Harry to thank him or maybe even just take them, but Harry only looked at them with an unreadable expression on his face. Fred pushed them towards him. 

“I copied all my brother’s books. Well, not all of them, I don’t know what electives you’re taking, but I did most of them. You’re welcome,” he said, flashing a wink. 

But instead of being praised for his efforts, Harry hurriedly put his things in his bag and stood up from the table. 

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” he said, his cheeks red. His hair covered his ears but Fred wondered if those were red, too. 

“It’s a gift!” Harry gave him a severe expression. 

“In exchange for what?” 

Fred smirked. “What do you have in mind?” he joked. But Harry didn’t seem to find it funny at all. He leveled his gaze on him and Fred felt like those green eyes could be as sharp as a knife.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, annoying me, but trust me, it won’t work. So fuck off.” 

Dumbfounded, Fred watched Harry storm away. He looked at the forgotten books on the desk and sighed in defeat. So much for threatening Ron. 

*

Every other attempt at giving the books to Harry or even talking to him resulted in Harry immediately leaving the library. Eventually, the chaos of Durmstrang and Beauxbatons arriving and the ageing potion needing to be completed took over Fred’s attention. 

Halloween came and unfortunately, the potion didn’t work. But it did give him and George a giant beard that he decided he needed to grow one day. With that very beard, he sought out Harry in the library once more. The champions would be chosen that night and maybe if he needled him enough, he could convince Harry to sit with him at the feast. The dejected books rested in his trunk but hopefully he could convince Harry of keeping those, as well. 

It took thirty-five minutes and a lot of stares, but he finally found Harry reading a book in one of the armchairs in the muggle studies section. He looked cute all curled up on the chair, and it wasn’t until he got closer that he noticed the younger boy was dozing. He quietly took a seat in the opposite chair and watched him for a little while. 

He had bags under his eyes, Fred noticed. At least the bruise was gone, but there was even more tape on his glasses and more scratches on the lenses. Fred wasn’t sure how Harry managed to see anything. His head was propped on his folded arms, the book trapped loosely in an outstretched hand. Fred craned his neck to see the title: Wizarding Observations on Victorian Muggle Society. 

“Cute,” Fred whispered. Imagine him with a Ravenclaw boyfriend. Mum would be over the moon to have her troublemaker son find someone as smart and studious as Harry Potter. Fred realized he didn’t know his middle name and made a promise to himself that he’d figure it out before the end of the year.

His glasses were slipping down the bridge of his nose and from up this close Fred realized he could see a small patch of light freckles that would ordinarily be hidden by his brown skin. From up this close he was able to see the way that his dark hair curled around his ears and neck, and Fred had the impulsive feeling of running his hand through it to see how soft it was. 

He honestly didn’t know what had come over him; he never had crushes like this before. Harry was small; tinier than most of his entire year, if not all. His scowl was almost ever present when Fred was around him, and it was made easier by his down-turned lips. His shoes were falling apart and held together with patches of tape, and most of his clothes had holes or tears in them, and his tie was always, always crooked. He never fastened the buttons on his robes so his baggy clothes were always on display, which didn’t make sense because the uniforms were supposed to be tailored. Which meant he didn’t get them from the usual Twilfitt and Tattings, which Fred related to since Mum always had to make or tailor their clothes. His wrists were boney but they were almost always covered by his sleeves. His eyebrows were bushy, so bushy that even his gigantic circular glasses couldn’t hide it all. 

He was so, so beautiful. And those eyes? Merlin, it was like staring directly into emeralds. 

Those same emerald eyes fluttered open and Fred jumped when Harry let out a shriek. His book fell to the floor and practically jumped up from the armchair. Fred’s cheeks heated when he realized just how close he had been to Harry’s face. 

“What the hell are you doing!” Harry exclaimed. Fred, embarrassed to be caught, licked his lips and felt hair curl around his lips.

“Oh! I have a beard!” 

Harry looked at him like he was insane, which would be correct but it still wasn’t very nice to stare. He bent down and grabbed his bag, which Fred hadn’t even noticed had fallen to the floor. He noticed that Harry’s trousers had to be rolled up a few times. 

“You’re so fucking weird,” Harry grumbled. He started to walk away when Fred grabbed the fallen book and jumped up from his own chair. He grabbed Harry’s wrist who wrenched free of him. 

“You forgot your book!” Fred said, holding it out to him. Harry looked at the book and then at him and didn’t say anything, and he just looked so cute after having woken up and- “your tie is crooked!” 

He watched as Harry walked away, the neglected book heavy in his hand. 

That evening during dinner, with the Great Hall feeling overcrowded, especially with that gigantic ancient goblet in the middle, Fred made Katie and Alicia switch seats with him and George. 

“Why?” Katie groaned, sliding under the table and benches instead of being normal like walking around it, like Alicia had the good sense to. But that was why Katie was Fred’s favorite. Fred took his seat as George pointed towards the Ravenclaw table. The girls followed the finger and then smirked. 

“Oh, Harry! Save me!” Lee mocked, throwing a hand on his forehead.

“Harry, teach me how to study, I’m just hopeless,” Alicia joined in.

Ever since George made it clear just how apparent Fred’s crush was, it was all his friends could yap about. 

“Oh, Harry, your hair is just so perfect and your eyes are so beautiful, looking into them is like swimming in an emerald sea,” George mocked. Fred pushed him and he knocked into Lee. 

“I do not say that!” Fred said. 

“Yes, you do,” his friends all said. 

“Just ask him out already,” Angelina said. She looked both excited and stressed out, her eyes straying to the goblet every five seconds. 

“He can’t stand me,” Fred sighed, stabbing his chicken with his fork. “He flees every time he sees me! And he didn’t accept the books.” 

“Have you ever had a normal conversation with him?” Katie asked, which was rich for her to say.

“No,” George answered for him, who knew every detail of every conversation because Fred relaid them to him. Fred ignored him and rested his chin against his hand and looked out at the sea of all the various black robes and saw the object of all his desires sitting at the very edge of the Ravenclaw table looking at his lap. Fred would bet all the money Bagman owed him that he was secretly reading under the table. 

“Starry Eyes Weasley,” Lee coughed into his cup of water. Fred charmed it to spill all over him and they all laughed. 

They were interrupted by Dumbledore’s announcement that it was time to choose the champions. Fred nodded at George to affirm that they had all the party supplies ready. Their usual supplier of butterbeer and firewhiskey had come through yet again, and Lee had made the posters both celebrating and consoling Angelina. Tonight, no matter what would happen, Gryffindor would have a rager. 

He wondered if he invited Harry if he would show up, even if it was out of curiosity. He wondered if Harry would find it impressive that he threw parties like that. He wouldn’t even make him pay the usual three sickles for admittance. 

But all of that was thrown out the window when not only Angelina didn’t get it, but Monty and Harry Potter both did. 

It was hard to connect the boy he found sleeping in the library with the boy who refused to get out of his seat towards Dumbledore. Monty had already been encouraged to get up by Hermione Granger, but there was no one to push Harry towards the dais. Not until Harry looked up at the Gryffindor table and met Fred’s eyes. 

“Go,” Fred mouthed and Harry looked miserable. It took forever for him to get up from the table with how much his body shook. Dumbledore was saying something, but Fred didn’t pay any attention to it; the only thing he focused on was Harry slowly walking towards the dais, book held in his arms like a teddy bear. 

With one more look at Fred, Harry walked into the adjoining chamber with the rest of the champions and teachers. 

“This is bullshit,” Angelina roared. Fred snapped back to her and she was glaring at him. Alicia tried to console her, but she shook her off and stormed out of the Great Hall. Her absence wasn’t noted as the hall filled loudly with chatter. He stormed out when he heard down the table fellow Gryffindors mocking Harry and betting how long he’d last. 

He wasn’t even sure where he was going, he just had to leave. He ended up in the same spot he’d been just hours before, admiring Harry’s features. The book he’d abandoned had been turned into Pince, as Fred wasn’t even sure where Harry got a book like that. Out of frustration, Fred kicked the armchair and huffed when it didn’t let out any of the anger he felt. 

“Freddy,” George began, but Fred turned around and cut him off. 

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Fred asked. “I mean, I know we aren’t friends or anything, but he just- and never once did I find him reading a book to get into a goblet, it’s all homework and stupid history books, and he could’ve told me! I mentioned to him multiple times that you and I were trying out the ageing potion, and he never once told me, ‘oh, yeah Fred, I’m trying to figure that out too! Isn’t that cool? We should work together and maybe make out a little!’” 

“Harry sounds salacious,” George joked, leaning against one of the bookshelves. Fred glowered at him. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think he entered himself.” 

Fred rolled his eyes. “How else would he have been chosen? And Monty, for that matter!”

“I don’t know, but come on. I know enough about Harry from all the conversations you told me word for word that he’s not one for attention. Also, even if he did, it’s not like you’re obligated to know.”

“I know that,” Fred defended, feeling his face heat up. George tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Fred, I love you, but you’re so delusional when it comes to Harry. You two aren’t dating. You two aren’t even friends. I know you like him, and it’s both nauseating and sweet, but does he like you?” 

Fred all but fell into the armchair. He sighed heavily.

“I’ve been an idiot, haven’t I?” he asked. George sat in the other chair and clapped him on the shoulder. Fred looked at him and pouted. “He runs away every single time I see him! Of course he doesn’t like me.” 

He had no right to feel indignant that Harry didn’t tell him. Not when Fred didn’t even really know him, and vice versa. Not when the only times they spoke was when Fred was talking at him. 

“Come on,” George said, standing up. He held out a hand. “We’ve got a Gryffindor champion to celebrate.” 

“I don’t feel like celebrating Monty,” Fred grumbled, but he got up anyway. He planned to get very, very drunk tonight. George laughed like he knew exactly what Fred was planning, and they set off towards the tower.

Chapter Text

After the Halloween debacle, life went back to normal, with the only exception being Fred stopped pursuing Harry. He and George made headway with tracking down Bagman, specifically through a certain ex-wife who he felt very promising would write them back. They were also experimenting with new joke products like a candy that would put you right to sleep and a horn that could only be heard by adults over the age of 65. 

For the candy, they were rapidly losing stock of their sugar supplies, so they headed down towards the kitchens to persuade the house elves to give them some. 

Fred was expecting to find dozens of house elves cleaning, baking, and cooking when he pushed open the door. He wasn’t expecting to find Harry at a tiny table in the very back of the kitchen reading.

He hadn’t seen Harry in a few days, and all the feelings he thought he’d gotten rid of resurfaced at the image of Harry arguing with a house elf. 

“Wiley says you’s has to eat all you’s treacle tart before you continues you’s book,” a tiny elf told Harry.

“Wiley can tell me herself if she feels so strongly about it,” Harry argued as he pushed the plate of treacle tart across the table. The little elf looked toward the sinks where an older looking elf was commanding others. 

“Um, Wiley says Wiley is not to be talking to’s you’s,” the elf said. They leaned towards Harry. “Wiley says you’s knows why’s.” 

Fred watched as Harry turned around to look at the older elf by the sinks for a moment before rolling his eyes and putting the book down and replacing it with a fork. The little elf looked pleased and walked away. They spotted Fred and George in the doorway and squeaked. 

“Visitors!” the little elf squeaked, gaining the attention of most of the house elves and also Harry. George pushed Fred into the kitchen, much to his mortification. A hoard of house elves came upon them but George nudged him towards the little table to take care of them himself. 

The stretch towards the little table felt long but also too short, as Fred wasn’t sure what he was going to say. He licked his lips and took the opposite chair and almost fell with how low to the ground it was. His knees were flush to his chest. 

“Er- hi,” he said dumbly. Harry wasn’t sitting on the chair at all; instead he was sitting on the floor, which probably would have been a much smarter decision, but hey, if Fred wasn’t acting like an idiot, he wouldn’t be himself. “It’s been a while.” 

Harry frowned and looked at his plate. He was poking the tart with his fork.

“So,” Fred started. He looked over at George who was being fussed over by the elves. “How’d you enter your name in the cup?” 

That was apparently the wrong thing to say because Harry stood up immediately.  Fred tried to get up but he found he was stuck in the chair. 

“Harry, wait!” Fred said, hobbling over to him. A few elves were looking at them and a couple laughed. “I only ask because George and I tried using an ageing potion. It did not work.” 

Harry turned around and Fred stumbled backwards at the furious look on Harry’s face. 

“What makes you think,” Harry said in a low voice that shouldn’t have been as attractive as Fred was finding it, “that I would ever willingly enter a tournament that parades champions about the school as if they were gods?” 

Somehow, even though Fred was hunched over in a chair that didn’t fit him, he was still around the same height as Harry. 

“George and I wanted to enter because of the money. And also because of the glory and everything,” he offered. Harry rolled his eyes. 

“Glory is bullshit.” 

Fred never really seemed to know what to say when he was around Harry. He found that his usually semi-working brain went to complete mush. Maybe that was why instead of focusing on Harry’s words, all he could notice was the bit of chocolate on Harry’s lips. Dear Merlin, did he want to lick it off. 

“Do you want to help George and I with something?” he blurted out. George looked at him from across the room where he was being plied with bag after bag of sugar.

“Is it illegal?” Harry asked. Fred worried his lip. 

“No, but I think it would probably get us at least suspended.” Harry considered him for a long moment before nodding his head. Fred’s stomach flipped. 

Which is how they led Harry to the fifth floor where the abandoned alchemy classrooms were. In one of the classrooms Fred and George set up a cauldron. Fred opened the door with a flourish and said “Ta da!” 

Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly impressive. It was really just a cauldron in the middle of an empty classroom. But they had done a good job of cleaning up the cobwebs and dust that originally had filled the room. George walked past him and dropped the sacks of sugar on the ground with a huff. 

“Thanks for the help, Freddy,” George said bitingly. Fred gave him a wide smile.

“I thought you’d bring me to the chicken tapestry room,” Harry said as he entered the classroom. He immediately took a seat on the sole desk. “How many illicit rooms do you have?” 

“Just the two,” George said before Fred could be impressive and lie. “We’re in the process of starting a business. Here, try this.” He handed Harry a chocolate ball. Harry inspected it and raised an eyebrow at Fred. 

“Is this an attempt to get me to spill how I entered the tournament? Is this laced with veritaserum?” 

George and Fred looked at each other. “No, but that’s a bloody good idea. Write it down, George!” 

“If I eat this and explode, I’m turning into a ghost and haunting you,” Harry said before he took a bite. Three bites in and Harry turned into a large yellow canary. Harry flew around the room in a panic before landing back on the desk. His feathers started to molt and he popped back into his usual adorable self with the only evidence being the yellow feathers on the ground. 

“What the fuck!” Harry shouted. He inspected his body and then looked up at Fred. Fred had George’s voice in the back of his head saying, ‘oh yeah, turning the bloke you fancy into a canary is exactly the way to charm him. Good going, buddy.’ But to his surprise, Harry’s face split into a beaming smile. “How’d you do that?” 

Shocked, Fred strode over to where Harry was sitting, enchanted by his sparkling green eyes.

“Oh, you know,” Fred said, sheepishly. All previous fantasies of showing off his skills and intellect to Harry had come crashing down as he was faced with actual interest. He had imagined himself smiling cockily and leaning in to whisper in Harry’s ears that he’d exchange his secrets for a kiss or two. But looking at the genuine excitement on Harry’s face, an emotion he’d never been granted before, an emotion he would bet the other boy barely gave out, he couldn’t help but draw within himself, overcome with not exactly humility but not exactly shyness, either. 

“Weasley secret,” George said instead, saving his helpless brother. Fred didn’t have to give him a grateful smile to know he felt it. If Harry was disappointed by the answer, he didn’t show it. Instead, he looked at his body as if at any second he could turn into that giant bird once again. 

“It’s brilliant,” he whispered in awe. Fred looked down and bit his cheek to stop from smiling as wide as he wanted to. 

*

He didn’t expect Harry to be a common fixture of Fred and George’s experimentations from then on, but every time he saw Harry walking down the halls or in the library when they were on their way to the alchemy classroom, Fred couldn’t help but invite him every time. 

If George was annoyed by the extra presence, he didn’t show it, which Fred was thankful for. The unfortunate consequence to spending more time with Harry was that his crush had come back in full force. But he had to admit to himself (just a little bit) that it had never really gone away. 

But his friends didn’t tease him as much. It didn’t have so much to do with them respecting Fred (hah) but more because they still suspected Harry had put his name and his brother’s name in and they were angry that they’d been chosen and not Angelina. Fred himself didn’t know what to believe. But every time he tried to talk to Harry about it, he got defensive and tried to leave. He could put the truth aside if it meant he could bask in Harry’s non-agitated presence a bit more. (although he rather liked it when Harry was agitated, especially by him)

Fred was pouring over a few transfiguration textbooks he’d gotten from the library to try to understand how to make explosives in the shapes of animals when Harry poked his book with the end of his quill. Fred looked up and found Harry studying the notebook Fred used for experiments. 

“Wouldn’t it make more sense if you made the fireworks with charms? Like what if you modified the flagrante charm to make it turn into animal shapes.”

“It’s kind of a rip off for the buyer to have to do the spell to make it work. Transfiguration lasts. Although, maybe we could do the modification process to make custom sayings. Pass me my notebook, I’ll write it down.” 

Harry passed him the notebook and also his quill. Fred noticed ink stains on his fingertips and he rushed to grab his handkerchief before Harry pushed his glasses up. Quill abandoned, Fred gently took hold of Harry’s hand and wiped his fingertips. 

“You carry a handkerchief on you?” Harry asked softly. 

“Oh, yeah. Mum always used to make us carry them around when we were little and habit stuck, I guess,” Fred blushed. “It’s clean, I swear. Look!” Fred smoothed the blue and yellow checkered handkerchief out on the table between them and cringed at the ink stains that now peppered it. But Harry didn’t seem keen on focusing on them, instead rubbing his now clean fingers across the embroidered FGW initials on the bottom left corner. 

“What’s the G stand for?” Harry asked. From this close, Fred could smell the generic soap that Hogwarts provided. It smelled like pine and he wanted to inch closer to see if his dark perpetually messy hair would also smell like it, but he didn’t want to be some kind of freak. But it took everything in him not to inch just that much closer. 

“Gideon,” Fred explained. “After my mum’s brother. He was a twin, too. Fabian and Gideon, they fought in the war. They also died in the war. That’s why Georgie and I are named after them, but our middle names are the opposite, ‘cause FFW is just a weird combo.” 

Fred’s hand splayed across the expanse of the handkerchief, crumpled from being in Fred’s pocket. His fingers were almost touching Harry’s. 

“Fred Gideon Weasley,” Harry whispered. It sent shivers throughout Fred. Harry always spoke so softly, even when he was mad. Sometimes he had to strain to hear every mumble, every whisper. But him saying Fred’s name like that was clear enough that it made Fred want to record it and listen to it over and over again until it was as embedded into his brain as it was his heart.

“What’s your middle name?” Fred asked in the same volume. But whatever intimacy they had created was taken away when Harry shut himself off and withdrew his hand from the handkerchief. He looked away and pushed up his glasses. He looked ready to bolt at any second. 

“Uh, James,” he mumbled. Fred didn’t see what was so wrong with it. HJP was such a pretty collection of letters he wanted to tattoo it on his skin and flaunt it to his scandalized mother. Until he realized why Harry wouldn’t look him in the eye. 

“Oh,” Fred said dumbly. Harry was named after a father who didn’t want anything to do with him. He wasn't sure if it was his admission that he knew why it was so bad that led to Harry pack up his things frantically, or the original question. 

“Wait,” Fred said hurriedly. He held the handkerchief out. “You always have ink stains on your fingers. You need it far more than I do.” 

Harry stared at the handkerchief for a long time as if he was transfixed. But eventually his hand splayed towards Fred’s and his fingers delicately took the soft fabric. His lips were downturned into not quite a frown, and his teeth were worrying his upper lip. Fred started to take a step forward and ended up watching Harry flee out the door before his foot could land on the floor. 

That would be the last time for a while that Harry would join him in the alchemy classroom.

Chapter Text

“Would you stop bouncing your leg? It’s distracting me,” Katie told him as they sat in the stands waiting for the first task to begin. She was trying to crane her neck to see if she could see between the flaps of the ridiculously large tent that was covering the quidditch pitch. George was to his right with Lee, Angelina, and Alicia sitting below them. 

Angelina, despite her anger, was excited for the task. But it didn’t mean that she and the others were likely to talk about or even tease Fred about his crush. Which was fine with him, since he buggered it up so dramatically. 

“Sorry,” Fred said absently as he continued to bounce his leg. He’d wanted to talk to Harry during breakfast to wish him luck, but he was absent. He’d even gone to the kitchens to only find house elves. Katie huffed and leaned down to talk to Alicia and Angelina about something. 

George leaned closer to him to whisper in his ear, “I haven’t been blessed by a certain Potter’s presence lately. What exactly happened?” 

Fred hadn’t told George that he totally fucked things up a few days back. He was embarrassed, especially because Harry had taken his handkerchief. Especially because he thought he’d been getting through to him. Especially because him whispering his full name still reverberated all throughout his brain twenty four seven. 

Fred was saved from having to answer as Dumbledore and the other headmasters stood before them on the pitch. 

“Welcome students to the first task of this year’s Triwizard Tournament!” Dumbledore said jovially with a sonorous charm. “It is my and Hogwarts’s pleasure to announce the first task.” With a flourish of his wand, the tent collapsed into itself and an empty pitch greeted them. But there must’ve been a silencing charm on it, because a loud roar could be heard all throughout the stands. Fred jumped and he looked around, confused, until he spotted his older brother near the back of another tent. 

“No,” he whispered in horror. He nudged George and pointed to Charlie, who was in the middle of arguing with who he assumed was another dragontamer. 

George clapped Fred on the shoulder, and the strong grasp was enough for Fred to ground himself to reality to take in a deep breath. His friends looked at him. 

“You okay, mate?” Lee asked. 

“I’ve never seen Harry do a single spell,” Fred realized. In all of their time together he had never once seen Harry so much as use magic to open a book or close a door. “I don’t think I’ve even seen his wand!” 

“Well,” Alicia shrugged. “You know the rumors.” Fred looked at her and tried to understand what she was insinuating. He looked at George for help and he looked at him with such pity it made Fred want to punch him.

“Freddy,” George started. “Harry’s not exactly known to have magical prowess.” 

He thought back and remembered what had been written on his textbook in big blocky letters. Squib. 

“But- but the goblet, it only chooses the best. The champions of their schools,” Fred said weakly. 

“The goblet’s obviously broken,” Angelina remarked. 

“You’re just bitter it didn’t choose you!” Fred shouted. Angelina looked back at him, shocked. “Harry’s about to go against dragons and I’ve never seen him do an ounce of fucking magic! All he does all day is read history books and I don’t think those are going to do him any good out there! Fuck!” 

His outburst resulted in his friends murmuring to him that they were sure Harry’d do fine, but he was so keyed up with anxiety that he couldn’t manage anything but placing his head in his hands. 

He didn’t watch as the others battled against fierce dragons. He let the audience dictate the happenings of the pitch as he couldn’t manage unsticking his fingers even a bit to glimpse. A chorus of boos rang out when Monty walked into the pitch, and Fred hoped that when it was Harry’s turn, he wouldn’t be able to hear them. 

Then the boos turned into gasps and chants and loud applause. George had his shoulder pressed up against his, and it was pathetic how much it was helping. 

But it didn’t help so much when the boos returned and Fred couldn’t help but tear his hands away from his face to look at the trembling but determined stature of Harry, so tiny down there in comparison to the giant fucking dragon that Fred would rather slay himself just to make sure the other boy would be safe. 

George had whispered to him during the individual performances play-by-plays in a good impression of Lee. He had to admit Monty’s flying was a good trick. But how would Harry stack up against veela powers and flying and whatever the fuck Krum had been trying to do? 

Fred gripped the metal stands and flinched when the dragon let out a glorious roar and a breath of fire. Harry still hadn’t drawn his wand. He was in his super cute tournament robes that really made him look regal and sporty at the same time, but he was doing little but just standing there like he was waiting for the dragon to gobble him up or burn him to a crisp. 

“Come on, Harry,” Fred whispered. His heart was thumping so loudly in his ears that he could scarcely hear the murmurs of the audience around him wondering why Harry wasn’t doing anything.

The dragon moved its head directly into Harry’s line of sight and Fred choked when it roared again. Harry stumbled backwards but he kept his ground. He wasn’t looking at the dragon. No, instead he was looking at the judges table. A vicious frown was on his face even as the dragon stamped at the floor and a cloud of dirt sprouted up, covering Harry practically from head to toe. Fred urged someone to fucking do something, and it was only exacerbated when the dragon tilted its head back. 

Shouting broke out by the tents that could be heard thanks to the sonorous that was still powered. 

“She’s going to blow!” Charlie yelled to a couple other dragontamers. They had moved towards the barrier of the pitch. Charlie was holding onto the large chain that held the dragon. “We have to get him out of there!” 

“It’s against the rules-” 

“Fuck the rules!” Charlie shouted at his coworker. “That’s a fourteen year old kid in there and he’s going to get killed. Hurry!” 

George had a death grip on Fred’s arm that should’ve hurt but Fred couldn’t feel much of anything at all. 

Once, Charlie had to be sent to St. Mungo’s because he had been playing with flames. He still had a scar on his inner thigh from where the candle wax and flames had hit him. Fred remembered his brother using magic to get the candles to make one giant flame, which then immediately dropped into his lap. It had been a giant flame, Fred remembered, being seven years old and not knowing much about fire. 

The dragon let out a breath of flames that could decimate entire forests all directed onto the sweet, prickly boy Fred couldn’t stop thinking about. It was so much larger than the one he’d seen when he was seven. 

“HARRY!” Fred screamed. The dragon was thrown backwards by both magic and chains. Charlie had thrown himself on the fence that was keeping the dragon in, his wand outwardly stretched towards the entrance to the pitch. 

Fred couldn’t see Harry anywhere. Neither could anyone else. All that was left were the flaps of the tent for the champions burning and a blackened spot in the shape of a circle where Harry had once stood. 

Fred stumbled down the stands towards the tent as fast as he could, but his long awkward legs got in the way. He fell a couple of times, his trousers getting torn up from the dirt and gravel, his knees no doubt shredded. 

But he managed to run towards Charlie, who was sweating and panting. He overcorrected, though, because he managed to run directly into Charlie, and they both fell over in a bundle of limbs and red hair. 

“Fred, I’m okay, it’s alright,” Charlie tried to tell him as he sat up. Fred shook his head and felt like he could throw up at any second. 

“Harry,” he managed to speak, as breathing was difficult at the moment. Everything was difficult; he didn’t even feel like he was connected to his body; he was so afraid. Charlie put his hands on his shoulders and tried to get him to look at him. 

“Fred, I think you’re having a panic attack. Can you take a deep breath in?” 

If Fred could get ahold of himself, he’d tell his brother to shut the fuck up. The dragon roared in the background and Fred flinched so hard he jostled Charlie off of him. He wanted to go back to that morning. He wanted to go back to days before when Harry hadn’t been ignoring him and he hadn’t fucked things up by being too nosy like he always was. 

Dumbledore was saying something, but everything felt muffled. He stumbled his way up and walked towards the tent to get some answers. He knew his legs were working, but it didn’t feel like they were. It didn’t feel like he had a grasp on reality at all. It was like he’d drunk his weight and more than in firewhiskey, but he knew he hadn’t had a drink since he had been hungover November first and had thrown up in a potion he and George were working on. 

But somehow he managed to make his way towards the tent. He opened the flaps and stepped through, his eyes adjusting to the dim light.

“-were you trying to fucking kill yourself? What the fuck were you thinking!” someone was screaming. 

“I think my death would have been a good enough reason to stop this tournament,” a smooth, soft voice responded. It was like honey to Fred’s ears. 

Reality came rushing back to Fred and he felt like he could finally inhale as he saw a dirt covered Harry being manhandled by his stupid brother. Fred ran towards him and threw Monty off him, enfolding him in a hug. 

“Harry!” Fred laughed. “I was so afraid, you have no idea!” He drew back and placed Harry’s face in his hands so he could stare into his piercing green eyes. “Oh, honey, your glasses are all dirty. We can’t have that.” 

He delicately took off Harry’s glasses and wiped them with his shirt. When he turned back to Harry, he found him with a bewildered expression on his face. 

“Fred? What’re you doing with…” he heard Ron say. Fred looked at him, glasses still in his hand. Monty’s friends were huddled around him by the entrance of the tent. 

“How do you know which one he is?” Hermione Granger asked. Ron rolled his eyes. 

“He’s just like Mum, always saying ‘we can’t have this.’” 

Well, fuck, Ronald. He ignored him and turned back to Harry, who was looking at him with those wide, beautiful eyes of his. Fred gently placed his glasses back on his face and resisted the urge to kiss his nose as Harry pushed them up. 

“You’re shaking,” Harry told him. His eyebrows were drawn together in concern. 

“I had a panic attack!” Fred beamed. Harry’s expression only worsened. 

“What? Fred-” 

“Say my name again,” Fred pleaded. Harry’s face reddened and he looked away. 

“Fred!” was so not the voice Fred wanted to hear call out his name. He turned around and found Charlie rushing towards him with a potion bottle in his hand. “I got a calming draught from the mediwitch, she’s giving them away like candy after what happened with- oh. Do you two know each other?” 

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Ron grumbled. 

Fred realized he’d been holding onto Harry’s elbow. But he found he couldn’t let go, and only wanted to embrace him again. 

“Fred,” Harry started, but Fred only lolled his head to the side with a goofy smile and said, “Again.” 

Harry grinned before schooling his expression. “I think you’re still having a panic attack. Take the draught.” 

Nah, Fred was fine. Well, he was shaking all over and his breathing felt erratic. But that didn’t mean- 

“Oh, fuck,” Fred gasped as he realized he was having a panic attack. He was guided into a chair and Harry tried to walk away, but Fred clasped onto his wrist. With his other hand, he took the draught from his brother. He looked at Harry and pouted.

“Feed it to me?” 

He heard groans but from Harry all he heard was laughter. 

“You’re incorrigible,” Harry chuckled. Even still, he took the draught from Fred’s hand and uncapped it. He set it to Fred’s lips and Fred obediently drank it. Calm washed over him in a dramatic wave and he took in a deep breath and was relieved to feel it actually work. He was holding Harry’s hand and he was surprised to find that it wasn’t as soft as he expected it to be. Rough calluses littered the palm and Fred dragged his thumb across them. 

Charlie grasped his shoulder and squeezed it. He looked at the pair of them and shook his head. “You two took at least ten years off me today. You alright, kid?” 

“Harry,” Fred corrected. Charlie ruffled his hair. 

“That’s what I was gonna ask,” Cedric Diggory said as he entered the tent. He had changed out of his champions uniform and was now in a short sleeved blue t-shirt that accentuated his biceps. “You okay, Harry?” 

Fred narrowed his eyes at Diggory. Harry bit his lip and nodded. Diggory smiled in relief. 

“Why didn’t you do anything? I thought someone as smart as you would have come up with something to outwit a dragon,” Diggory chuckled. Fred resisted the urge to possessively hiss at him. 

“I didn’t know that it would be dragons. Did- did you?” Harry asked, tilting his head. Diggory blinked in confusion. 

“Monty told me. Did he not tell you?” 

A silence washed over them at the implication. Fred turned to look over at Monty and his brother, but they were gone from the tent. Harry withdrew his hand from Fred’s. Fred wanted to kiss the upset look away, but Harry started to walk away. 

“Harry,” Fred started, trying to get up, but Charlie pushed him back down. 

“Give it a few minutes, Fred. You’re in no position to run after anyone right now,” Charlie explained. Fred took another deep breath that broke into a yawn. He was so tired he couldn’t even muster up enough energy to interrogate why Diggory of all people was so buddy-buddy with Harry. He rested against Charlie’s shoulder and shut his eyes instead.

Chapter Text

Fred drummed his fingers against his legs as he waited. He checked his reflection in the suit of armor and fixed his tie once again. He opened his mouth and inspected his teeth, thankful that no remnants of the broccoli he’d eaten for lunch was stuck there. He turned around when he saw Harry’s reflection in the armor. 

“Harry!” he exclaimed. Harry adjusted his bag’s strap and looked up at Fred. “You look nice today.” 

Harry blinked and Fred floundered. 

“I mean, you look nice every day. Not that I get to see you every day, but I wish I did because you’re so, uh…” 

“Nice?” Harry teased. Fred nodded sincerely. He drummed his fingers some more before exhaling. 

“You got my note,” Fred surmised. Harry dug through his bag and got out a slightly crumpled piece of colorful parchment in the shape of a dragon. 

“Subtle,” Harry smirked. 

“I can only do dragons, to be honest. It was the only animal Charlie taught me, although that might be because it was the only one he knew.” 

“Charlie’s the dragontamer, right?” Harry asked. He placed the note back in his bag. 

“Yep, that’s the one. My other brother, Bill, he’s a cursebreaker. And then there’s Percy, I mentioned him before, and then Ron. And then there’s Ginny, she’s a girl. She’s my sister who's a girl.” 

“And George? Is he not your brother?” Harry asked. 

“Oh, no, he’s just some bloke that showed up one day and wouldn’t leave me alone,” Fred joked. Harry bit his lip. 

“I know the feeling.” 

Fred licked his lips and drew his arm out towards the exit. Harry hitched his bag and started towards it, Fred striding along to match his step. Harry looked up at him with a wrinkle in his brow. 

“Are you okay? Panic attacks aren’t fun.” 

“Oh, yeah, I’m aces! Do you, uh, do you get them?” Fred asked. Harry shrugged. 

“Sometimes,” was all he supplied. Fred opened the door towards the grounds and let Harry walk through before going through himself. It was a chilly day since winter was steadily approaching. It would probably snow in the next few days. 

“So what are we looking for?” Harry asked. Fred had made an excuse to talk to him by saying they needed to collect an ingredient from the forbidden forest. They didn’t, though. He had a stash in the alchemy classroom in a cupboard Fred would try to hide from Harry. 

“Amethyst deceivers,” Fred lied. “We’re experimenting with transfiguration potions.” 

“Cool,” Harry said. “Like polyjuice?” 

“Hm, more like a potion that could change hair color and the like. These mushrooms are good for that,” Fred explained.

They set off towards the forest to look for the purple mushrooms. Fred told him to keep an eye out for bundles near the roots of trees. 

“I’ve never been out here before,” Harry said as he plucked a few from the earth. Despite this, he looked very much in his element with the dirt and plants. His jeans were muddy at the edges due to the dew that still rested at the precipices of the forest despite the late hour. 

“George and I explored pretty much as soon as Dumbledore said it was forbidden on our first day. You’re not much for adventure, are you?” Fred asked, a couple trees away from him. 

“Not really. My life is kind of boring. No idea why you seem so keen on getting to be in it,” Harry mumbled. Fred turned to him. 

“Harry, you stood before a dragon a couple days ago. If that’s not an adventure, I don’t know what is, mate,” Fred laughed. Harry hesitated with moving the mushrooms to the wicker basket. He chewed on his lip, looking lost in thought. “What?” Fred asked. 

Harry shook his head and moved the fungi.

“No, come on! What is it?” 

“Nothing,” Harry assured him. “It’s just… nevermind.”

Harry was skittish; he was like a kitten. So Fred knew not to push him, and he changed the subject. 

“You know, nobody thinks you or Monty entered anymore. Especially not you, after what happened.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Harry said as he pushed up his glasses with dirt covered fingers. Some of it smeared on his forehead. “The hexes and name calling have pretty much stopped. I think everyone’s worried I’m, like, a bad day away from offing myself or whatever.” 

Fred stilled and looked over to where Harry was inspecting a different tree. He remembered what Monty had screamed at him- were you trying to fucking kill yourself?

“‘Cause you didn’t do anything with the dragon?” Fred asked. Harry hummed. “Why, uh, why didn’t you?” 

“I dunno,” Harry shrugged. His voice was usually emotionless, which was odd when it compared to his expressive eyes and down-turned lips, but it made him look good. It made Fred’s heart stutter in his chest, usually. But now it just made him worried. “Dying by dragon wouldn’t be the worst way to go, I guess. And it probably would’ve shut down the tournament, which is good, ‘cause what kind of fucked up death tournament allows two fourteen year olds to enter against their will?” 

There were two purple mushrooms right by Fred’s foot. All he had to do was lean over and tug them out of the ground. But that limbless feeling was starting to return to him. 

“James, uh, Mr Potter, he tried to get Monty out of the tournament on Halloween. Dumbledore sent a patronus to his parents and they came, like, just out of the blue. Like they had nothing better to do. He and Mrs Potter made a big fuss about Monty being forced into the tournament. I don’t think they noticed me until we were sent to our common rooms. Or maybe they did notice and they just didn’t care.” Harry rubbed his nose. “Yeah, it’s probably the latter. And it’s not like it matters, really. Me not doing anything. Monty knew about the dragons and he told Cedric but he didn’t tell me, so. Who gives a shit if I’m alive or not? He doesn’t. My dad doesn’t.” 

Fred stood up and walked over to Harry. He crouched behind him and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, frowning when Harry flinched in his embrace. Fred rested his head against Harry’s shoulder, Harry’s hair tickling his face. 

“I give a shit, Harry.”

“Oh,” Harry said, his voice breaking. Harry’s arms wrapped around his own and his face hung down, his hair curtaining his eyes. They stayed like that for a while in the forest with just them and the purple mushrooms. 

*

“Fred,” George said in a disapproving tone. “You’ve gotta stop inviting Harry on secret rendezvous to the forest, we have too many ingredients.” He opened the cupboard where piles and piles of foragables were spilling out.

“Just think of it as stockpiling for the winter,” Fred suggested. George gave him a look and Fred didn’t have it in him to look abashed. Not when his relationship with Harry was progressing. Yesterday they wandered around the forest looking for a specific type of fern that would be helpful for explosives and talked about how pathetic Binns was. 

“Just ask him out on a date to the library, or whatever you do with Ravenclaws.”

“We meet at the library on Wednesdays and Fridays already,” Fred reminded him. George rolled his eyes. 

“Then invite him to Hogsmeade and snog him in Tomes and Scrolls.” 

“I don’t know,” Fred said. He scuffed his toe against the sole desk. “Do you think he’d go out with me?” 

George looked at him like he’d taken a canary cream. He then shook his head and picked up a handful of acorn tops and proceeded to chuck them at Fred. 

Later, Fred stopped at the Ravenclaw table during dinner. Harry, who was reading in his lap and avoiding his plate of food, looked up in surprise. 

“Can I sit here?” Fred asked cheekily. A small, blonde girl looked dreamily at him. 

“You can take my seat, if you want. I had a big lunch.” She walked away, leaving a seat for Fred to take. He looked at Harry as he sat down. 

“Who was she?” 

Harry shrugged. “I’ve no idea. She’s the only one who’ll sit with me. That was the first time I heard her voice, though.” 

Fred looked around at the table and noticed there was a five inch divide between them and the rest of the Ravenclaws, who were pretending Harry didn’t exist. 

“What’d you do to them?” Fred asked, bewildered. Harry set his book down on the table and Fred smiled when he read Most Illustrious and Illuminating Displays of Light Magic in History. 

“Exist,” Harry said in that blunt way of his. Fred rested his head against his palm and stole a piece of asparagus from Harry’s plate. 

“Well, you’re welcome to sit with my friends and I at meals. We’re over there,” Fred said, pointing to his ragtag team of idiots. Lee noticed him pointing and he made a crude gesture in return. Alicia noticed and she blew him a kiss while Katie and Angelina stuck their tongues out. George only raised an eyebrow. Fred laughed and turned back around. “They’re arseholes but they’re great.” 

Harry was worrying his bottom lip. “Um, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Fred, but people don’t really like me.” 

Fred leaned over and pushed up Harry’s glasses. He used to jump every time Fred did it, but now he didn’t even bat an eye. 

“They just don’t know you like I do. Come on, have pudding with us.” 

Fred got up from the bench and held a hand out for Harry. He took it after a moment, even though his face was scrunched up in hesitation. Fred interlocked their fingers and led them towards the Gryffindor table. 

“Hey guys,” Fred said. “I caught a raven.” He gestured Harry to sit down and he nudged a fifth year out of the way so he could sit down next to him. He smiled widely when Harry retook his hand. 

“Aren’t Ravenclaws supposed to be eagles?” Katie asked. 

“Yeah, but look at him. He’s such a cute raven!” Fred exclaimed. Harry blushed and he looked at his lap. 

“So, Harry,” Angelina said. “Have you figured out the egg yet? Monty tried it the other day and we almost threw him out the common room when it wouldn’t stop screeching.” 

“I was disqualified. I didn’t get an egg.” 

“Wow, not even as a consolation prize? That’s low,” Lee whistled. 

“It’s fine, I wasn’t expecting I’d get any points or prizes from it,” Harry shrugged. “Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to survive in the first place.” 

It went kind of awkwardly silent after that as they waited for Harry to laugh it off or something, but all he did was reach around the table to grab a piece of strawberry cake for Fred and treacle tart for himself. 

“They wouldn’t have just let you… die,” Angelina said in a strained tone. 

“Why not? Students have died in it before. That’s why it was banned for so long. The death toll was just too high. If it weren’t for Fred’s brother, I’d probably be a pile of ashes. The judges weren’t going to do anything.” 

Angelina looked down at her own plate and she looked a little pale. For weeks she had gone on about wanting to be the Hogwarts champion, but maybe she didn’t realize what would actually happen if she had to compete. 

Fred squeezed Harry’s hand and told himself he would give Charlie a life supply of joke products for his quick thinking at the task. He spared a look at the headmaster and watched him laugh with the headmaster from that fancy French school. They hadn’t asked after Harry at all after the task. No one had, except for Charlie and Diggory. Not even Harry’s parents had, and Fred saw them sitting with McGonagall in the stands. 

He shuffled a bit closer to Harry, their arms touching, and Harry looked up at him in concern, as if Fred were the one who needed to be fussed with. 

“I thought you liked strawberry,” Harry quietly told him, nodding towards his piece of cake that sat there untouched. His friends had started talking again, but Fred tuned them out. 

“I do,” he said, which was true. Strawberry was his favorite. It was unfortunate since George’s favorite was carrot of all things and carrot and strawberry don’t go together so on their birthday they usually just have chocolate. Fred picked up his fork with his free hand and took a bite and tried not to wince when it tasted ashy in his mouth. He hoped the smile he gave in return to Harry’s own didn’t look like a grimace. 

*

Fred was sitting in one of the armchairs by the muggle history section with his legs outstretched across the arm. Harry was in the opposite chair sitting like a normal person reading a book on something called ‘films.’ Fred abandoned his own book on quidditch practices and poked Harry’s cheek. 

“Hm?” Harry said absently, eyes still glued to his book.

“Hogsmeade weekend is coming up,” Fred said. He tried to settle his beating heart by taking a deep breath in, like Charlie taught him. Harry hummed again, and Fred got up from his chair and crouched in front of Harry. He gently took the book from Harry’s hand, delighting in the way Harry pouted. “I was wondering if you wanted to go with me?”

He tried to not let it break his heart when Harry’s face constricted. Fred leapt up. “It would be fun! We could buy too much candy and go to Zonko’s to get inspiration for our own products, and there’s a library there that I bet has a much better muggle history section than this, and we could also get tea- I know you hate tea but you might like it if it was surrounded by a ton of girly crap- not that you’re a girl or into girly crap, but I know that you like flowers and this place has flowers, or I could get you a bouquet of flowers-” 

“Fred,” Harry interrupted. He stood up and played with Fred’s red and gold tie. Harry’s own blue and bronze tie was crooked, like it always was. “I really want to go with you-”

“Great! The tea place also has little cakes, Alicia goes mad over them-”

“But,” Harry interrupted again. He wouldn’t look Fred in the eye. “But I can’t go.”

Harry’s head was bowed as he played with the ends of Fred’s tie. Fred didn’t think he was playing coy or hard to get. He seemed genuinely upset, and well, he couldn’t have that. He raised Harry’s chin with a finger and he clicked his tongue when he was met with Harry’s slightly red face. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Fred softly asked him. His hands went to Harry’s waist and drew him closer so they’d be in more of an embrace. Harry blushed and looked away. 

“I just- shouldn’t you want to spend time with someone who actually can go with you to stupid frilly tea places and candy shops? Someone like, like, Alicia or Angelina? I bet their relatives signed their permission slip.” 

“Oh, honey,” Fred mumbled. He rested his chin on the top of Harry’s head. Harry’s hands were still scrunched up in Fred’s tie. “You’re the only one I’d want to go to Hogsmeade with.”

Harry looked up at him with an unconvinced expression. It took everything within Fred not to reach down and kiss him. But he was saved from these unfortunate thoughts by Harry letting him go to sit back down in his chair. 

*

“You know, when I told you we could do anything you wanted instead of going to Hogsmeade, this isn’t quite what I had in mind,” Harry said. The wind was making his already crazy hair crazier. He was holding one of the school brooms far away from him like it would curse him. 

Fred held his own broom and pointed it towards the middle of the pitch. The quidditch hoops had been taken down, but they could still fly around. He’d snuck into Ron’s room and taken the practice snitch Monty had. Fred didn’t mention that it was Monty’s to Harry. He didn’t think he’d take it very well. 

“What did you have in mind?” Fred asked coyly. He smirked when Harry rolled his eyes. 

“I dunno, prank the Slytherins or something?” Fred strolled over to Harry and took a knitted beanie out of his pocket. It was one his mum had made; blue with yellow stars. He tugged it on Harry’s head and flattened his dark curls. 

“I’m afraid Georgie’s and my prank days are over for now. We have to be one hundred percent focused on our shop.” Harry adjusted the cap and pushed some of the hair out of his eyes. 

“And playing quidditch with me is, what, a career focused endeavor?” Merlin, was Harry cute. Fred reached over and tugged some of the hair that was spilling out of the beanie towards his neck. He twirled a strand over his finger and Harry all but melted into his embrace. 

“Maybe,” Fred smirked. Harry rolled his eyes and pushed him away. 

“Then let’s play.” Harry swung a leg over the broom but hesitated. He looked at Fred. “So, like, what do I do? I just jump and then I’m flying?” 

Fred’s smirk fell. “Harry,” he said slowly. “You’ve ridden a broom before, right?” 

Harry chewed on his bottom lip, which Fred knew by now was a sign of anxiety.

“But what about flying lessons? They’re mandatory!” 

“Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff’s lessons were cancelled ‘cause of the whole Monty debacle with Malfoy,” he said. “No one gives a shit about our houses, why would we learn how to ride stupid fucking magical brooms that fly in the air?” 

Fred couldn’t help but chuckle at Harry’s pout.

“No worries, my sweet.” Oh, and did Fred love how whenever he called him an affectionate nickname Harry’s entire face became red. “I’ll teach you. Adjust the broom between your legs- ooh, cheeky- and just jump up and then look, you’re in the air!” 

Fred demonstrated and he was in the air about one meter from the ground. Harry was having difficulty, though. 

“You’ve got to believe that the broom will work in order to make it happen!” Fred instructed him.

“What is this? Tinkerbell?” Harry shouted at him from the ground.

“Just do it!” Fred said. Harry shook his head but he adjusted himself on the broom and jumped up from the broom, his face scrunched up as though he was afraid. But lo and behold, Fred’s instructions were perfect and Harry was flying upward. He floundered on it and scrambled to tighten his hands on the handle. Fred flew over to him as he laughed. 

“You did it! You’re flying!” Fred exclaimed. Harry looked at him with wide, frightened eyes and a grimace in place of his usual frown. 

“Why do people do this?” he asked. His face changed and a more thoughtful one replaced it. “Why do people fly? Do wizards travel by broom, or is that an old tradition? I wonder if there are books in the lib- Fred!” 

Fred had grabbed ahold of Harry’s broom and flew upwards to the point where there would usually be the quidditch goal posts. Harry was still holding onto his broom for dear life. 

“Fred,” Harry said through gritted teeth. He looked really cute with Fred’s beanie on his head. Fred’s own was green and brown, and instead of stars like Harry’s there were trees. His mum’s imagination knew no bounds. “I’m going to have a panic attack.” 

Fred leveled him with a glare and did a flip. Harry let out a shriek and covered his mouth with his hands.

“Don’t do that! Do you want to give me a heart attack!” Harry shouted. “How is this fun? I can’t believe you do this for fun- did you always do this-” 

“Harry,” Fred interrupted gently. “We’re completely safe. You’re safe. Your hands aren’t even on your broom and yet you’re still in the air!” 

Harry looked at his body and shrieked again, hurrying to put his hands on his broom. He shook his head wildly. “I really, really, really don’t like this. Can we please stop? Please?”

Fred sighed and flew closer to Harry. He began to de-straddle his broom and ignored Harry’s outraged cries. 

“Just trust me, yeah?” Fred said. He quickly jumped to Harry’s broom and straddled it, making sure to adjust his seating so the broom could accommodate both of their weights. He held his original broom with one hand while the other held on to the new broom. Harry’s arms immediately went to Fred’s waist and he felt Harry’s face dig into his back. 

“Was this just a ploy to get me to touch you?” Harry asked into his jumper. Fred cackled and started flying around the pitch. He made a few laps and after a while, Harry’s grip became less suffocatingly tight. He also moved his face from Fred’s back so he could look at the view. 

“We’re so high up,” Harry said. Fifteen minutes before he’d probably screech that, but now he said it in wonder. Fred looked past his shoulder and saw a beaming smile on Harry’s face, his eyes lit up in excitement. Fred, more than a little pleased this worked out so well and Harry didn’t devolve into a puddle of tears and panic, decided to show off a little. 

He flew them even higher up and started a tour of the entire grounds, moving towards the lake. He lowered them towards the water so their toes could ripple off the water, and then he gripped the broom with both hands, dropping the original broom right by the lake, and rode vertically up into the sky. 

He directed them towards Hagrid’s hut and flew them up, up, up into the air so they were amongst the trees in the forest where Fred was still convincing Harry he needed help foraging. He spun them around and brought them back to the pitch and dropped them off in the middle. He had made sure to grab the other broom, though.

Harry wobbled off the broom and ended up falling on the ground with a boisterous laugh. Fred set both of the brooms on the ground and sat next to him. 

“That was just- wow,” Harry said, still laughing. His laughter was contagious, even as Fred leaned over and fixed his glasses. Harry grabbed his arm and kept it close to his face. “That was brilliant- you’re brilliant- I just-” Harry babbled.

Fred felt like he could do anything right about now, his heart was so full. He leaned closer to Harry and was just millimeters away from his lips when Harry jerked backwards and let go of his hand. 

He tried not to let it get to him when he saw Harry’s eyes filled with terror. It was hard when Harry forced a laugh and a smile that didn’t look at all natural on his face and he turned away. He stood up and went towards the brooms. 

“You, uh, you mentioned that you brought a snitch?” Harry asked. Fred swallowed the pit in his throat and stood up, affecting his own fake smile to lighten the mood. He dug in his pocket and brought out the snitch. 

“Yeah, I thought we could play seeker for a few rounds.” 

Harry dug the end of the broom into the dirt and twirled it around, biting his lip with no abandon. “Do you still want to?” he asked in a quiet voice. 

Fred picked up his own broom and winked at Harry. He ignored his aching heart. “Come on, honey.” 

Chapter Text

“-and then he managed to catch five snitches in a row! It was crazy, I have no idea why he isn’t on the quidditch team!” Fred exclaimed as he waved his fork around. Katie took her own fork and banged it against his own and they devolved into a full out fork fight.

George and Angelina cleared the plates around them as Katie and Fred went head to head. Lee assumed position as commentator. 

“Weasley, the ugly one, stabs his prongs at Bell, who intercepts with the hilt of her fork. Who will win, folks? My personal bet is on Bell, she just has that kind of stamina that you need when you’re slinging swords- ay!” 

Lee rubbed his chin from where Katie had thrown her fork. “Bell forfeits for attacking the lovely commentator.” 

“Oh, was McGonagall commentating today?” Alicia asked as she bounded up to them. She was out of breath and slipping off her scarf. She nudged Fred to move so she could sit down next to him. 

“I hate you all,” Lee lied. George threw a crouton at him. It was about to end in a food fight when Alicia banged her hands on the table, upsetting crockery and all.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement,” Alicia said in her best Dumbledore impression. 

“There are no ladies or gentlemen here, I’m afraid. You’ll have to go to the next table over,” George said. Lee threw another crouton. Alicia waved her hands. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” she said. “Listen up, it’s of utmost importance.” 

They all leaned in, and Alicia looked over at the teachers table to make sure they weren’t listening in. 

“There’s going to be a- Fred, drumroll!” 

Fred took two butter knives and drummed them against a plate, making a loud screeching noise that a few other Gryffindors made a fuss about. Alicia gave him a blinding smile. 

“Thank you, button. Alright: There’s going to be a ball!” 

Angelina and George groaned. 

“That’s your big announcement?” George asked, stabbing his salad with his fork. 

“Hey, hey, don’t give me that! Balls are exciting!” 

“Balls require dates and frilly robes and smalltalk and everything I hate,” George grumbled. Angelina leaned over to him to give him a high five. 

“Spoilworts,” Alicia said. She flipped her hair. “After I found out that information for you? I had to eavesdrop on Slytherins to get that info.” 

“How come the Slytherins know and not us?” Katie asked, looking over her shoulder to glare at them. 

“Who knows? Snape probably already told them so they can get all prim and proper,” Lee said. 

“They said Weird Sisters are performing,” Alicia said. “And if they’re lying I do expect restitution.” 

“Oh, wait, that’s actually cool,” Angelina said. George looked at her in betrayal. “What? I can deal with a frilly dress if it means I get to see them live for free.” 

“I’m not going,” George shook his head. Lee leaned over Fred to punch him. 

“Oh, you’re going. We’ll try to spike the punch, won’t we? Maybe you and Fred could whip up a mild dose of veritaserum or something to make everyone super crazy.” 

“You won’t need veritaserum if there’s booze,” Katie argued.

Alicia nudged Fred’s shoulder. “You okay, button? You’ve hardly a word.” 

“Oh, right,” Fred mumbled. He was staring at his plate. “No, it’s just- do you think Harry would want to go with me?” 

Everyone groaned. Fred raised his hands in surrender. “What?” 

“How many dates have you been on in the past few weeks?” George asked him. Fred rubbed the back of his neck. 

“They’re not dates, they’re just- ugh. I don’t think he likes me back.” 

Angelina twirled her locks between her fingers and glared at him. 

“I sincerely doubt that, you idiot boy.” 

Fred groaned and rested his forehead against the table, which was only saved from getting mashed potatoes on by Katie quickly scooching it away. 

He and Harry hadn’t talked since that afternoon, which was four days ago. He hadn’t really seen Harry anywhere at all; not the library, not the alchemy classroom, not even in the halls. He hadn’t gone full stalker mode and went to him after his classes, but that’s really just because he didn’t know his schedule. He also hadn’t been to meals, which was concerning ‘cause he’d asked the house elves and they said he hadn’t shown up for a couple of weeks. It’s like he completely wiped off the map. 

He perked up and stumbled out of his seat towards Ron. He poked his brother over and over again until Ron pushed him away. 

“Whadda’ want!” Ron shouted with a full mouth.

“Ronald Billius Weasley!” Fred exclaimed. “I cannot believe that you pranked poor Madam Pomfrey by switching out all the potions with water!” 

“You did what?” Hermione Granger asked, her hair poofing up with outrage. Ron’s eyes widened as he turned to her. 

“No, I didn’t! I have no idea what he’s talking about!” 

“People rely on those potions to get better, Ronald,” she hissed. 

“He’s obviously lying! He probably just wants something!” Ron insisted. “When would I have had the time to even do that, ‘Mione?” 

“You have a free block on Tuesdays when Monty and I have arithmancy,” she pointed out. Ron groaned audibly and glared at Fred. 

“You’re not going to let this up, huh?” 

Fred gave him a winning smile. “Not at all. You and I both know how motivated I can be when I want something, or should I relay the spider incident to your lovely friend over here?” 

Ron’s eyes bugged out as he shook his head. “Don’t! Just- gah, what do you want?” 

“I want the map back.” Ron rolled his eyes and turned to Monty. 

“He wants to borrow your dad’s map.” Fred twitched at this, as he didn’t know the map had been created by Harry’s dad. Weird. 

“Couldn’t he have just stolen it like my snitch?” Monty asked.

“I’m being courteous, be kind. I could have found out that all the potions in the infirmary were switched out by not only Ron, but you as well. Don’t test me, boys.” 

“I am so going to get back at you for this,” Ron said as he swung his legs out from underneath the bench. 

Fred scoffed. “I sincerely doubt that.” 

As Ron and his friends walked away, he heard his brother say “I sincerely doubt that,” in a snotty mocking voice. For that, Fred was stealing his dinner. 

Later that night, Lee and George were getting ready for bed so Fred sat in his bed and closed the curtains. 

It’d been a long time since he’d used the map. It was like an old friend, but it soured with the realization that it was once Harry’s dad’s. He wondered which of the Marauders he was. He knew that, like a portrait, they’d put some of their personalities in the map so they could talk back to intruders. Fred pointed his wand to the map and whispered ‘open.’

The map sprung to life as the messages of the once young Marauders filled the parchment. 

Mister Padfoot believes you are so close and yet so far away. 

Mister Moony believes whoever is trying to breach this parchment should be made aware we are more clever than you are. 

Mister Prongs believes you have been made a fool. 

Mister Wormtail concurs. 

Fred frowned. He leaned closer to the parchment and said, “If you had children, would you cast them out?”

Mister Moony is confused by the question. 

Mister Padfoot believes it is the wrongdoing of the parent who casts his children out. Get a grip, Moony.

Mister Prongs wonders which children the speaker is referring to. 

Mister Wormtail wonders if the children did something wrong. 

Fred heard rustling from behind his curtain. He whispered more quietly. “One of you has two sons and you only talk to one of them. Why do you think this is?” 

Mister Padfoot congratulates Mister Wormtail or Mister Prongs for having children. 

Mister Moony resents this but also understands. 

Mister Prongs is confused by the question. 

Mister Wormtail wonders how he possibly made the mark. 

Fred rolled his eyes. “James Potter has two children and he only talks to one, even though the other one is wonderful and funny and pretty and-”

Mister Prongs wonders who this James Potter bloke is. 

Mister Moony believes the intruder should either get the password right or move on. 

Mister Padfoot agrees with Mister Moony.

Mister Wormtail believes the intruder should get a grip. 

“For fuck’s sake,” Fred said. He pointed his wand at the map and said the password and it opened up to the incredible stupid map. He whispered Harry Potter, and there he was: in his dorm room. So much for bothering Ron.  

But the next couple of days, Harry was still MIA. Every time he checked the map, he was always in his dorm room. It was so bad that Fred decided to say screw it and meet Harry at his last class, even though it meant begging off his own class. 

When Harry walked out of the transfiguration classroom, he looked like he hadn’t slept or showered in days. His hair was a mess and he had bags under his eyes and a general fuck you attitude emitting off of him. 

“Harry!” Fred exclaimed. Harry turned around in shock. 

“Fred?” Harry asked, his voice more emotionless than usual. He was clutching a piece of parchment. 

“I tried to send you a couple of notes but you haven’t been at meals,” Fred said. He held out an origami dragon to Harry.

“Oh, yeah,” Harry sighed. He started walking and Fred followed. He assumed they were going to the Ravenclaw tower. “I haven’t been feeling good lately, so.” He still hadn’t taken the dragon. 

Fred stopped him and pressed a hand to Harry’s forehead. It didn’t feel warm. “Are you sick?” Fred asked, confused. Harry sighed again and he pushed up his glasses to rub his eyes. 

“Yeah, fuck it, I don’t know. Look, I’m tired. Could we do this later?” 

Fred took a step back. “Do what later?” Harry removed his hand from his eyes and gestured to Fred. 

“This! You fucking teasing me and calling me names. I’m getting really sick of it. Just leave me alone.” 

“What are you talking about?” Fred asked, stepping forward. Harry took a step back. 

“I’m not your fucking pet project, you know. I’m not a placeholder for you to play with while you deal with the fact that you’re trying and failing to start your own prank business.” 

“It’s a joke shop…” Fred said slowly, trying to understand where the hostility came from. Things had gone so well just a few days ago, so why was Harry acting like this?

Harry scrubbed his face, knocking his glasses askew. Part of Fred wanted to fix them so badly, he twitched, but he didn’t move forward. He felt as though he’d screwed up somewhere along the line- really, when did he not- but he wasn’t sure what it was. 

“It’s just getting really tiring. I’m not- I don’t know what you want from me but I promise you, it’s not worth it, whatever it is. So cut the bullshit and leave me the fuck alone.” 

Harry walked away, leaving Fred both confused and hurt. He still hadn’t taken the dragon. It laid awkwardly and somewhat crumpled in Fred’s hand and he threw it to the ground, storming the opposite way. 

*

Fred resolved to put all thoughts of Harry out of his head from that point on. After he’d essentially had what George called a tantrum in their dorm room, he’d written a scathing letter to Bagman and then Bagman’s ex-wife and mother basically threatening not only them but also Bagman if he didn’t return their fucking money. He was about to send the letters but George took them from his hand before he could even leave his room. He read them with an unimpressed look on his face. 

“Whatever horrible choices you’ve made in your life should not reflect on me. You have twenty-four hours to respond and give me Bagman’s location before I coat your house in vats of glitter glue?” George recited. “You’re in a good mood today.” 

Fred sneered at him. “What tipped it off?” George slapped him with the letters before moving towards his bed.

“What happened? Be cautious, I will not be sympathetic or care that much.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Fred grumbled. He groaned and flopped on his own bed, dangling one leg off of it. “Is there something wrong with me?” 

“Oh, this question is like Christmas morning,” George drawled. Fred leveled him a stare. 

“Could you be serious for a moment?” 

“Fred, I say this because I love you. You’re too emotional.” 

“I am not!” Fred exclaimed. He then settled back on his bed and considered it. “Am I?” 

George stood up and leaned over him. He ruffled his hair. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it has to be a bad thing. You’re emotional and I’m one of those muggle robots. It works out.” 

“You’re not a muggle robot,” Fred grumbled, swatting George’s hand away. “Don’t act like you don’t have emotions, I’ve seen you after a quidditch game.” 

George rolled his eyes and scooted Fred out of the way to sit beside him. “I’m just saying that when it comes to a more level headed person-”

“You are not a level headed person,” Fred scoffed.

“When it comes to a much more sensible and level headed person who knows best and is older than you so shut your mouth,” George said, “and the other is more emotional and acts like a puppy, that first person might feel a little overwhelmed. But that doesn’t mean that you two can’t work it out. We did. Just give Harry another shot if you really like him.” 

Fred ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He didn’t want to tell George what Harry had told him. He didn’t want to tell him that Harry had basically told him to fuck off and never speak to him again. It was embarrassing, after all that time Fred gushed about him to George. 

“And if we don’t work it out?” Fred asked. George looked at him. He narrowed his eyes. 

“Do I need to have a little talk with him? Bring Ginny and wreak havoc? Write to Bill about curses?” 

No one really understood George the way Fred did. Their friends had a good grasp on their differing personalities in a way that no one else really seemed to. Fred couldn’t help but get himself into trouble and George would never allow Fred to do stupid stuff on his own, so that’s why they were often bundled together as if they were the same person. He didn’t mind; it was nice to know that he always had someone to look after him no matter what. 

He sat up and knocked shoulders with him. 

“No, you don’t need to bring the cavalry in. Let’s just forget about it, yeah? We should focus on getting Bagman to give us our money back and working on our shop. How it was always supposed to be this year.” 

“Look at who’s being level headed right now,” George mocked. Fred pushed him off his bed.

Chapter Text

Forgetting about Harry was not easy. It didn’t help that Harry had altogether stopped showing up at the Great Hall so Fred couldn’t even mournfully look his way. He was always in his dorm room whenever Fred checked the map. 

It made him concerned, which made him mad that he was getting concerned about such a tosser. It came to a head one day during potions when he noticed a green and yellow handkerchief crumpled up near one of the desks towards the back of the classroom. After class he walked over and picked it up and noticed splotches of blood on it, his initials stained with red. Concern washed over him but was quickly replaced by a deep anger and indignation. He stalked out of the classroom and barked to George that he would meet him at dinner. 

While he’d never actually been to the Ravenclaw tower before, he knew exactly where it was thanks to his and George’s habit of wandering the halls as if they were their own. The eagle door knocker gave him a riddle to answer, and it only took half a second before he figured it out and was given access.

He didn’t have time to look at the common room in awe as he walked up to a young Ravenclaw who was looking through a small bookshelf near the stairs. 

“You!” Fred said. “What floor is the fourth year dorms?” 

The Ravenclaw looked at him in surprise. He tilted his head at Fred’s tie. “How’d a Gryffindor get in here?” 

“Just answer the bloody question or I’ll sic Peeves on you!” Fred threatened. The Ravenclaw stumbled backwards before pointing towards the stairs. 

“Uh, the second-”

Fred walked off without another word. He climbed the stairs and was met with a corridor of rooms with plaques. Fred inspected them with his still very persistent rage settling in his skin. He didn’t get angry often. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this mad, and it was only worsened by how worried he was about his former crush. He saw a plaque with four names and one of them was scratched out and replaced with a word that Fred and the rest of Hogwarts knew belonged to Harry. 

He opened the door and was met with an overwhelming amount of blue. It was a nice blue, that was to be certain, but it didn’t have the same cozy feeling as the Gryffindor dorms. He shut the door behind him as he entered, eyes trailing the walls and floor for any hint of Harry. 

The other boys had posters on the walls and knick knacks on their bedside tables. He knew which was Harry’s not only by the scruffed up trunk that sat at the foot of his bed, but also by the way that it was devoid of any personal touches. He hadn’t checked the map before storming off here; for all he knew Harry wasn’t even here. 

But he dove towards Harry’s trunk regardless and started rummaging through it. Torn clothing and ripped books met his eyes. Piles of homework that were covered in red marks were interspersed with the rest of Harry’s scarce belongings. 

The bathroom door opened and Fred lowered himself to the opposite side of the trunk, hoping that all of the items on the ground would cover him. 

A sigh could be heard from the other side of the room. “Bloody brilliant,” the person said. Fred popped his head up and pointed accusingly at him. 

“Where’s my hat!” he shouted. Harry jumped a little. His hair was wet and dripping on the floor. His eyes were red and his cheeks were flushed. He wasn’t wearing his glasses but he didn’t have to squint to recognize Fred. 

“What? Fred, what are you doing here?” Harry asked. He rubbed his face. He looked just as exhausted as he had when they last saw each other. Fred stumbled a little when he was met with Harry’s bare arms for the first time. He saw a silver scar on his forearm and a thick white bandage on his wrist. He was wearing a large t-shirt and loose pajama bottoms. On his feet he wore wool socks with holes in them. They also looked too big. He looked very adorable and Fred had the sudden urge to drop all of his anger and wrap him up in a huge hug. But he steeled himself. 

“My beanie! The one I let you borrow when we played quidditch! It’s mine and my mum made it and it looks bad on you anyway, and I need it. Give it to me,” Fred demanded. Harry deflated a little. 

“Oh, right. Give me a moment,” Harry said. He walked to his bed and sidestepped the mess Fred made. He drew back the curtains on his bed and reached a hand under his pillow to produce the beanie. He twisted it between his hands before handing it out to Fred. 

Fred looked at it in wonder before looking back at the bed. “You- you sleep with it?”

Harry’s shoulders were up to his chin and he was looking resolutely at the floor, his hair covering his face. His shoulders started to shake and Fred could hear a sharp intake of breath. Droplets fell from Harry’s face and Fred’s resolve completely broke. 

He stood up and reached out towards Harry. “Oh, honey. Don’t cry.” 

Harry stepped back and looked at Fred with tears covering his red and splotchy face. 

“Don’t do that,” Harry sobbed. “Stop pretending to care about me- stop calling me names- not when, not when I don’t- not when I don’t have anyone who- who cares about me. I can’t handle you tea-teasing me.” 

“I’m not teasing you,” Fred tried to say but Harry shook his head. 

“No, but you are! Because- because why else- why else would you talk to me? No one- Fred, no one likes me! Why would they?” Harry hiccuped. “I’m just a stupid- stupid squib whose parents fucking ha-hate him who should’ve died in the first task!” 

Fred watched as Harry broke down in front of him, overwhelmed by the blatant display of emotions. It was obvious that this had been building up for a long time, and he didn’t know what to do. He hated Harry’s parents. He hated Harry’s roommates, who had undoubtedly marked squib in the room plaque in place of Harry’s name. He hated Dumbledore and the other judges for not protecting Harry from a death tournament he never even signed up for. 

“Don’t say that,” Fred managed to say, his voice choked up in both desperation and uncertainty. He stood still, a couple feet away from Harry, useless in the wake of a boy who felt so unloved that he couldn’t even tell when Fred was being genuine. “I’m not teasing you. Maybe at first, but it came from a good place. I just-” he cut off and sighed, his hands in fists by his side. He was mucking this up, he just knew it. He’d never been a speech guy, relying more on gestures of good faith than anything else. “I really like you. I have since I saw you on the train and you didn’t tell me to fuck off.” 

Harry was still curling in on himself, his face hidden by a curtain of hair, his shoulders shaking and his breath hitching every few seconds with poorly restrained sobs. Fred flexed his fists and took a hesitant step forward. When Harry didn’t flinch away, he slowly pulled him towards his chest, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He didn't know what or how he could say anything to make him feel better, but he had to at least try. 

“I don’t know why your parents don’t talk to you, or why people call you a squib as if that’s a bad thing. And I don’t know why you’d think I was teasing you this entire time, but I promise you I wasn’t. I wouldn’t. I think you’re-” he cut himself off again, his cheeks burning. “I think you’re really smart and also a bit of an arsehole, but in a good way. And I think you’re brave, too. I never could’ve stood before a dragon like that. And I’m not teasing. I’m not.” 

Harry didn’t say anything, but he let Fred hold onto him as he sobbed. It broke him a little, because these kinds of sobs weren’t the kind that came from a minor upset. They held too much history, too much pain. He shut his eyes as Harry cried and dug his chin into the top of Harry’s head, trying to ground him as much as possible. 

Eventually Harry’s cries tapered off and once they did, it was like all the energy had been sapped from his body. He slid out of Fred’s embrace and sat heavily on his bed, his face splotchy and his eyes puffy. Fred sat next to him and couldn’t help but reach out to him, just for the assurance that he wouldn’t leave. He didn’t really know who that assurance was for. 

“I didn’t mean what I said the other day,” Harry said slowly, as if it had to take a second for his brain to match up with his mouth. “About your shop. I know it’s a joke shop, not a prank shop. And I know how hard you’ve been working, and I know you’ll do great. I just- I just thought it’d be easier.” His voice broke on the last word, and Fred squeezed his hand as if it would prevent him from crying again. 

“What would be easier?” 

Harry shrugged lethargically. He laid backwards on the mattress, dragging Fred with him. The canopy was a dark blue, and looking at it from on the bed, it looked like the ocean just a bit. 

“I’m really tired, Fred. Sometimes I think I’m not meant to be here.” 

“At Hogwarts?” Fred asked. 

“Sure,” Harry said unconvincingly, his voice numb and raspy from the crying. Fred didn’t want to believe that Harry meant anything more than Hogwarts, because that meant that something was actually seriously wrong, and he didn’t know how to handle that, so he squeezed his hand again and dragged his spare hand up towards Harry’s face to brush away the remnants of tears from his face as if that would fix everything.

“Were you avoiding me? Is that why I haven’t seen you in the halls or in the Great Hall?” Fred asked softly.

Harry sighed a little and shut his eyes. “At first, yeah. But then… well, I don’t know. I get into these moods, I guess.”

And because Harry wouldn’t give up his name, let alone clarify details on whatever these moods were, unless encouraged, Fred nudged his foot with his own from where they were planted on the floor. 

“Everything becomes harder than usual,” Harry shrugged. “And nothing feels real, or sometimes it feels too real, or it feels like nothing at all. I’m not- I’m just really tired.”

All too aware that what Harry was describing sounded a lot like depression, Fred swallowed like it would calm his racing heartbeat. 

“Have you tried talking to someone about it? Like your head of house? Flitwick seems like a nice guy,” Fred said softly. “Or Madam Pomfrey? She’s the mediwitch at the infirmary.” 

Harry scoffed, the sound bitter and too resigned. “Why would they possibly care? They didn’t care when I was entered against my will in the tournament. I bet they’re all waiting for me to just die already.” 

“I care, remember? I care,” Fred promised, a little desperately. When Harry opened his eyes to look at Fred, and Fred didn’t see an ounce of uncertainty or disbelief, he held Harry's hand up to his lips and kissed his knuckles. “I lied too, you know.” 

Harry frowned ever so slightly and Fred grabbed the beanie from where it had fallen to the floor. “I said my beanie looked bad on you, but I lied. I think it looks really, really good.”

Fred would take any smile from Harry, even if they were slight and small and disbelieving like this one. Fred leaned over him and kissed his cheek softly, and he took in the feeling that Harry was alive underneath his lips with reverence. 

The sound of voices outside the room shocked Fred back into reality, where there was an outside world filled with people who would do anything to get Harry into trouble just to see him in pain. 

Fred didn’t hesitate to properly move inside Harry’s bed and drag the curtains around them. As the door opened, Fred spelled all of Harry’s strewn belongings on the floor back into his trunk, and Harry got into his covers. 

Harry opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, and Fred put his finger to his lips and cast a spell just as one of Harry’s roommates blabbered on about homework. 

“There,” Fred said. “Now they can’t hear us and we can’t hear them.” 

There hadn’t been any time for him to become shy of the fact that they were both on Harry’s bed, but now that the urgency had passed, Fred became cognizant of his long limbs taking up too much space. 

“Sorry about this,” he said with a grimace. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble for a Gryffindor being up here, but now you’re kind of stuck with me until they leave.” 

He was too aware of his body. He felt like his breathing was annoying Harry, so he held it, but then he had to breathe, which defeated the entire purpose. He looked down and saw that he was still wearing his trainers and he couldn’t help the blush that overtook his face. “Merlin, sorry. My mum would skin me alive if she saw my manners right now.” He toed them off and carefully placed them underneath Harry’s bed, his face scrunching up as the curtains opened up and he could hear Harry’s roommates talk about even more homework. 

He drew his knees up to his chin and tapped his fingers against his legs nervously. He thought he’d go mad with anxiety, when Harry reached out. 

“Lay down,” Harry said, his eyes exhausted. He pulled back the covers with no hesitancy, no doubt. And maybe part of it was to shut Fred up, but perhaps another part, a more important part, was that he was allowing Fred passage into his evasive bubble just a bit more. Fred never really knew what Harry was thinking, but maybe that didn’t matter. Not when he could lay down beside him and press his arm against his, and feel the rise and fall of his lungs. 

“It’ll get better,” Fred said, and tried to hide how uncertain he felt about it. Harry turned and curled into his chest, the top of his hair brushing against Fred’s chin. 

“And if it doesn’t?” Harry asked. Fred hoped it would. But that didn’t mean much, did it? So he kissed Harry on the forehead and wrapped his arms around him. 

“I’m not going anywhere.” 

*

He ended up falling asleep. He woke up in pitch black darkness and when he cast the tempus charm, he saw that it was almost three in the morning. He cursed and scrambled to get out of Harry’s bed but he stumbled and fell to the floor in a crash.

“Fred?” Harry asked groggily. Fred shushed him and held still for a few moments. Harry’s roommates made a few noises before they settled back down. Fred breathed a sigh of relief. He did not need him and Harry losing hundreds of points. 

He hastily put on his shoes before kneeling to the floor and caressing Harry’s cheek. “I’m afraid I have to go, honey.” 

Harry whined and held onto Fred’s wrist. “I wish you could stay.” 

Note to self: groggy Harry was the cutest version of him.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. Promise.”

He stood up and adjusted the curtains so Harry was hidden from view. He picked up his bag that was sitting on Harry’s trunk and quietly crept out of the dorm. Luckily, at this late hour, no one was awake, not even the prefects and Filch. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t careful. 

No more than five minutes later, he was creeping into the Gryffindor common room. He was about to go towards the stairs when someone coughed. He looked towards the couch and saw George and Lee looking at him with smug expressions. 

“Why, hello there,” George said with a smirk.

“Where were you at this late hour?” Lee asked with a matching smirk. Fred sucked a breath in. 

“Nowhere,” he said. 

“Nowhere, he says,” George said as he looked at Lee. 

“Nowhere wouldn’t happen to be, oh, I don’t know, the Ravenclaw tower?” Lee asked innocently. Fred blushed. 

“No,” he denied. “I was in the kitchens, if you must know.” 

“In the kitchens,” George repeated. He looked way too smug. “For ten hours?” 

Fred blinked in surprise. Had it really- oh, but he had gone to Harry’s room after his last class.

“I was… hungry,” Fred said slowly. He was usually really good at lying, but when it came to George, he was hopeless. His twin knew it, because he just smiled widely and shook his head. 

“Then why do you have Harry’s bag?” George asked, nodding towards Fred’s shoulder. He looked down and saw not his own satchel but Harry’s. It was a bit smaller and a lot more dinged up. 

“Oh,” Fred said dumbly. George nodded. Lee chuckled. “Don’t say anything?” he asked weakly. 

“Who do you take us for?” Lee asked, mock offense lining his face. George clapped him on the shoulder.

“Honestly!” 

Fred only sighed and went up the stairs to wait until the morning so he could be mercilessly teased. He’d slept an insane amount, no way he could go back to sleep tonight. 

In the morning, Fred placed the now clean handkerchief in Harry’s bag and brought it to the Great Hall. He waited outside, ignoring the curious looks he was getting from students. He perked up when he saw Harry holding his own bag.

“Looks like I made a mistake in my haste last night,” Fred said once they switched bags. Harry shrugged. He still looked incredibly tired. Fred grabbed his hand. “When was the last time you ate?”

Harry sighed and pressed closer to Fred so he was resting his head against his collarbone. “I dunno,” he mumbled in his shirt. “I wanna go back to bed.” 

Fred kissed the top of his head. “Thank you for coming to the Great Hall to return my bag. Do you think you could have breakfast with me?”

Harry stepped back and Fred pushed up his glasses for him. He also adjusted his ever crooked tie. 

“Please?” Fred asked. Harry shut his eyes. But he retook Fred’s hand and he took that as a yes. He led them to the Ravenclaw table near the very end where only that odd blonde girl sat. She was reading a newspaper upside down, but Fred didn’t pay her any mind as he took a seat next to Harry and dished up some porridge for the both of them. 

It took the full hour of breakfast for Harry to eat much less than half of the bowl, his body smushed against Fred’s side and his glasses digging into his arm. But at least he ate a little. Fred then walked Harry to his class and stood outside until he watched him sit down. He was late to his own class, but whatever. That was nothing new. What was new was the absence of George with him as he sidled into McGonagall’s class two minutes late. Maybe with Fred’s tardiness, the teachers might recognize the difference between him and George.

Chapter Text

“I feel stupid,” Harry grumbled as he watched the floor. Fred’s hand was on Harry’s waist and the other in his hand. Harry’s other hand was on Fred’s shoulder. 

“And a one, two, three, four,” McGonagall instructed with Ron as her own dance partner. George was laughing with Ginny in the back of the room. The other couples were trying to keep up with McGonagall’s instructions, Fred and Harry included. 

“You look very cute, though,” Fred said. Harry smiled softly before schooling his features. He’d been doing better these past few days. Fred didn’t know why and he was a little afraid that Harry’s depressive episode might pop up again. He felt ill equipped to deal with it, but Harry was doing better so he didn’t think he’d tell anyone about it. They could handle it on their own. 

Harry’s bottom lip was between his teeth in thought as he followed their feet. He was technically supposed to lead since he was the champion, or whatever, but since Fred actually knew what he was doing, he allowed Fred to take the reins. 

“How are you so good at this?” Harry asked as Fred spun him. 

“You know that great aunt I once talked about? The one with the cats?” 

“The one obsessed with past ministers?” Harry clarified. Fred was so happy that Harry even remembered that he kissed his nose. Harry flushed. 

“Exactly! Anyway, she was obsessed with the idea of turning all her great nephews into proper purebloods, the rot. The only ones of my brothers who could handle it were Bill and Percy, and Bill was only out of politeness. Percy kind of freaked her out, if I’m being honest. She told him to lighten up, and this is a woman who had thirteen cats.” 

Harry chuckled. He accidentally stepped on Fred’s foot again and groaned. Fred tutted and raised Harry’s chin with a finger. 

“If you stop obsessing over our feet, you’ll get it. It’s all about rhythm. Think of it as a puzzle. I know you Ravenclaws obsess over your puzzles,” Fred teased. He moved his hands to Harry’s hips and counted the steps to help him.

“So I’m guessing Bill’s the favorite?” Harry asked after a couple of minutes of practicing the steps. 

“Yeah, no,” Fred laughed. “Bill couldn’t handle the lessons, he quit after a couple of months.” 

“Your poor aunt,” Harry said. “Having to go that long with Percy as her only pupil.” 

Fred threw his head back and laughed. When he looked back at Harry, he looked pleased. 

“I’m afraid not. She quit Percy after a few months as well. She set her sights on Charlie, George, and I, but Charlie was so obsessed with dragons that she didn’t even make him come back after a week. George couldn’t stand her, said he got antsy with that many cats in one room. And I wasn’t about to make ickle Ron deal with her as she was known to absolutely hate babies, so it was up to me to stoke the flames of my aunt’s ire that was the form of pureblood lessons.” 

Harry tilted his head at him. “Proper pureblood Fred Gideon Weasley?” 

Fred leaned into Harry's ear. His hair tickled his nose. “Honey, I am not proper.” He leaned back a little so he could look into Harry’s eyes. They were shining and Fred felt his own darkening when Harry’s face reddened. 

Before he could decide whether or not he’d do something about his burdening thoughts, Harry jumped a little and ran into a couple dancing. Fred let go of Harry as he saw Alicia and Angelina in each other's arms. 

“Oh, hello there,” Alicia said with a smile. Angelina looked like she’d rather be anywhere else. Alicia eyed Harry and her smile turned into a smirk. “Does this mean I can’t ask you to the ball, button?” 

Fred put an arm around Harry. “Sorry, Alicia. I’m spoken for.” He looked down at Harry. “We’re going together, right?” 

Harry squeaked a little. He pushed up his glasses. “Um-er- yeah, if that’s, if that’s alright?” 

“Where was this romance when we were together?” Alicia deadpanned, rolling her eyes. Fred sucked in a breath. Was he not romantic enough? He supposed assuming that he’d be Harry’s date was a little much, but everyone knew they were together. He got enough slack for it from Ron, but his little brother was stupid. 

“You two dated?” Harry asked in a small voice. Before Fred could assure him that it’d meant absolutely nothing, Harry sighed. “I guess I’m not one to talk.” 

Fred blinked. He shared a look with Angelina and Alicia. Harry had dated someone before? Had he kissed someone before? Fred thought he was Harry’s first friend at Hogwarts, but he guessed he didn’t know much about his life before this year. 

He was interrupted from his thoughts by Cedric Diggory walking up to them. “Hiya, Harry!” 

“Hey, Cedric,” Harry said with a smile. Fred tightened his hold on Harry. 

“Diggory,” Fred acknowledged. He ignored the giggles Alicia and Angelina made. Diggory gave Fred a tight smile. 

“Weasley. So, Harry, are you excited for the ball? Kind of silly that we have to do a dance in front of everyone, huh?”

“Yeah, I’m rubbish at dancing,” Harry said. Fred was going to deny it vehemently, but before he could, Diggory leaned over and ruffled Harry’s hair.

“I doubt that! Besides, if the dance ends up being lame, we can hang out, yeah?” Diggory smiled conspiratorially as if that would be something Harry would want to do. Fred frowned. 

“The dance is gonna be brilliant, and so is Harry’s dancing. He’s my date, you know,” Fred told him. His threatening tone was undercut by Angelina and Alicia’s giggles. Diggory looked at him. 

“Oh? Harry never said anything.” 

Harry shifted from one foot the next. He had a grimace on his face. “Uh, yeah. Fred kind of just asked me? I think? Or, uh, I asked him? I’m not sure, really. But we’re going together. It should be… it should be fun, I think. Hopefully. I’ve never been to a dance before, or danced. I mean, sometimes I’d dance while doing chores and listening to music, but that’s like, only if Petunia wasn’t home and-and Dudley was, like, preoccupied. And only if the radio was even playing something good,” Harry finished. Fred’s annoyance of Diggory’s appearance was lowering steadily at the adorable display of Harry word-vomiting. 

“Yeah?” Diggory asked with a smile. It was a smile that would charm half the school if he directed it their way. It made Fred’s blood boil. “What kind of music did you usually-” 

He was cut off by Harry’s eyes widening. “Fuck!” he exclaimed.

“What’s wrong?” Diggory asked before Fred could. He leveled a glare at him before directing his attention on Harry. 

“No, I just- fuck! I forgot!” Harry groaned. He stepped out of Fred’s arm. He turned to Fred. “We’ll practice later, okay? I’m an idiot.” 

Without another word, he ran from the room.

“Wonder what that’s all about,” Diggory said with a frown. He looked far too concerned for Fred’s liking. 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Fred told him. After all, Harry would tell him if he wasn’t. Diggory hadn’t been there to guide Harry to eat meals and do his homework and do something other than sleep all day. No, that’d been Fred. And it worked, because here Harry was running from him… well, at least he was being active. 

Diggory looked at him before humming and walking away. Angelina and Alicia put their arms around Fred’s shoulders. “You need to watch out for that one,” Alicia advised. Fred grunted. He felt exactly the same way. 

*

“Stop fussing with your tie,” George said, batting his hand at Fred’s tie, messing it up.

“Prat!” Fred exclaimed. He started again. His hands were shaking, which was ridiculous, because everything was going to be fine. It wasn’t like this was his and Harry’s first official date that wasn’t parading around the forbidden forest and looking at books in the library, right? He cursed again. 

“You need to relax, mate,” Lee said as he buttoned up his shirt. George clapped him on the shoulder before swinging his cloak on. 

“Yeah, it’s not like you’re going to be in front of the entire school dancing with your boyfriend,” George said with a straight face. Fred looked at him through the mirror in horror. 

“Exactly! Harry’s not his boyfriend,” Lee laughed. Fred whipped his wand out and hexed the both of them. Once they promised to stop teasing, he put his wand away. 

“If you need any liquid courage for any first kisses you may or may not be having tonight, we’ve got you covered,” George told him with a smirk. 

“Alicia was my first kiss,” Fred reminded him. Lee snickered as he put on his own tie. 

“Yeah, real bang up job there, mate. Got her to forsake every man.” 

“It’ll be Harry’s first kiss,” George said, ignoring Lee. “You better show him a good and respectful time, young man!” 

Fred rolled his eyes at George’s impression of their mum. “Harry’s kissed someone before. He told me when we practiced dancing.” 

“Harry? Really?” Lee asked.

“Careful, Lee. That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about,” Fred warned. Lee stopped tying his shoes and coughed into his hand, “not your boyfriend.” 

“I wonder who it was,” George wondered. His eyes glinted. “You don’t think it’s Diggory, do you? He seems awfully close to him.” 

Fred turned around to look at him. “What? Diggory? No! Harry would- he would tell me. He would tell me, right? If his first kiss or boyfriend was him?”

“I don’t know,” Lee said. “Cedric does seem very touchy-feely with him. I thought it was just because Harry’s a bit young to be in the tournament, and Cedric was being a Hufflepuff about it, but I don’t know.” 

Fred fussed with his tie as he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He half-heartedly joked with George and Lee about spiking the punch and asking McGonagall for a dance, and soon they were walking down towards the common room. George and Lee were going to show up a little late so they could set up the afterparty (and threaten the younger years who stuck around to not come to the party). 

He found the girls huddled near the stairs to the girls' dorms. He could hear whispers of a bet. 

“Oh, I want in!” Fred exclaimed. He didn’t actually have any money thanks to Bagman, but he bet if he threatened Ron he could get a couple sickles out of him. The girls looked at him.

“Button,” Alicia said with a pitying smile. “I don’t think you want in on this one.” 

He looked at Katie and Angelina for context. “Why? What’s the bet?”

Katie laughed behind her gloved hand. “We bet-” 

“Katie, no!” Angelina groaned. “It’ll compromise the bet if he knows!” Fred narrowed his eyes at them. 

“Alicia, if you don’t tell me, I’ll tell your date what happened on the second of June, 1989.” Alicia paled. 

“We bet on whether or not you’re gonna trip and fall on your face during the dance.” Fred gasped. 

“Excuse me? Do none of you have any faith in me?” Honestly, his friends. “Who’s betting against me?” 

Katie and to his surprise, Alicia, raised their hands. “Ladies, I’m genuinely offended? This is so rude? I’ve had lessons!” 

“When you were ten! And you’ll probably be gushing all over Harry to pay attention!” Alicia exclaimed. Fred crossed his arms and pouted. 

“I’m a very good dancer. I want in on this bet. How much is it for?” 

The girls groaned. “Five sickles,” Katie said. 

Fred nodded his head and pointed at them. “You will regret this, I swear!” 

He turned on his heel and walked out of the common room. He had to show up to the Great Hall early since he was one of the champion’s dates. He couldn’t help but smile at the thought of that. 

Almost everyone was already in the atrium off to the side of the Great Hall, sans Harry, Krum’s date, and Monty and his date. He sidled up to McGonagall and flashed her a charming grin. 

“Hello, Professor. You look dashing tonight,” he said. She quirked an eyebrow. 

“Mister Weasley, I’m afraid only the champions and their dates are meeting here. The Great Hall is already open to the rest of the students.” 

Fred blinked at her. “Oh, but-” 

“Fred!” he heard Harry say. Fred hummed and turned to smile at his not-but-hopefully-soon-to-be-boyfriend but froze when he saw him running up. His jaw dropped at the sight. Harry looked- he looked, fuck, he looked. 

When Harry finally caught up to him, he gave him a concerned look. “Fred? What’s wrong? Do I look stupid?” 

Fred looked him up and down and started laughing. “Honey, you’re- you’re-” 

“I think what Mister Weasley is trying to say,” McGonagall said with a smirk, “is that you look nice, Mister Potter.” 

Words couldn’t describe how fucking wonderous Harry looked. 

Harry was wearing a white button up with blue lace and pearls on the ruffled collar and cuffs. A paisley pattern was embroidered with gold trimming. His waistcoat was a rich, dark blue with gold embellishments also in a paisley pattern. The buttons were made out of glass and were filled with gold flecks. His cloak was the same blue color as his vest and also had gold embellishments with embroidered stars all over. The collar and trim had silver and gold star constellations. His trousers were a plain black but they were fitted nicely (very nicely) and accentuated his waist.

Hanging off his waist was a gold chatelaine with what looked like a very small magnifying glass, a small dagger, a little coin purse made out of chains, a pair of scissors, a compass, and a miniature bottle hanging off of it. 

It made Fred look like a complete fool. All he was wearing was a standard set of dress robes his mum had gotten from the secondhand store that she had to tailor. It was a white button down, much like Harry’s without the embroidery and ruffles, black trousers that were a bit big on him, his school tie, and a very unassuming black cloak tied together in a ribbon. Harry’s cloak was fashioned with a tie pin with large pearls on each end. 

The colors contrasted nicely with Harry’s brown skin and Fred would bet he himself looked pasty and pale in comparison to his dark, dull robes. Harry looked like an ancient wizard, the type his dad used to tell him about as he went to sleep.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of him. But neither could Harry, who gave him such a sweet smile he wanted to pocket it and sell it as a cure for evil. 

“Wow, Harry!” Diggory exclaimed. “You look brilliant!” 

That same sweet smile was directed at the Hufflepuff, and Fred resisted the urge to scowl. It wasn’t hard to do, as he still couldn’t stop gushing at Harry. He looked like he held all the secrets to the universe in that brainy head of his. 

“Oh, I dunno. You look nice, Cedric,” Harry said softly.

“What’s that on your waist?” Diggory’s date, some Ravenclaw- fuck, Diggory liked Ravenclaws- asked. Harry looked like the epitome of a Ravenclaw in his dark blue robes. 

“Oh, this is a chatelaine! It’s kind of like a Swiss Army knife, but it was used by witches in the Medieval era and then became popular again during the Victorian era. It’s for everyday objects. I think whoever owned this was a potions master, ‘cause of the essences of dittany in the vial, the magnifying glass, and the dagger,” Harry explained excitedly.

“I wonder if the compass and scissors were used for collecting ingredients,” the other Ravenclaw said.

“That’s what I thought, too!” Harry beamed. His cheeks were flushed. 

McGonagall looked at her wristwatch and sighed. “Mister Krum, do you know when your date is arriving?” 

“She is coming,” Krum said stoically. Fred wondered if he threatened her. He wished George was by his side so he could joke, but then he thought about George teasing him about his reaction to seeing Harry and he was very, very glad that he was back in Gryffindor tower. 

Harry slowly put his hand in Fred’s and he all but melted. He reached out to brush Harry’s messy hair behind his ear. Harry was slightly taller due to the slight heel on his boots and it made it all the easier for Fred to lean into his ear. 

“You really do look dashing tonight.” 

Harry’s face reddened and he looked up with twinkling eyes. “You look really, really nice.” 

Suck it, Diggory, he got two really’s . Fred pressed a chaste peck on his cheek. 

McGonagall sighed in relief as Monty, Hermione Granger, and some girl Fred didn’t recognize ran into the room. 

“Sorry we’re late, Professor!” Hermione Granger said. Her usual wild hair was tamed back and she was wearing a nice blue dress. But it was nowhere as stunning as Harry’s blue hue. Everyone looked dull in comparison to him. Fred wanted Harry to string him along to the astronomy tower to teach him about stars. 

“Godric, Harry, you look like you’re dressing up as Dumbledore,” Monty said as he gawked at Fred’s soon-to-be-boyfriend. Fred stepped in front of him. 

“I’d call you something much worse than a berk but I’m afraid of offending the ladies,” Fred said hotly. 

“I think Harry looks wicked,” Diggory grinned. “I wish I wore something as cool as that cloak.” 

“I don’t think Harry asked your opinion, mate,” he said. Diggory blinked as if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing. 

McGonagall tapped her watch and took a deep breath. “Alright, students. In a minute the doors will open and you will enter in accordance to your scores. Cedric Diggory, at the front, Harry Potter at the back. You’ll then dance the waltz when the music starts. Please make your schools proud, I beg of you.” 

“I think Harry can speak for himself, mate, ” Diggory told Fred, ignoring McGonagall’s speech.

“Um,” Harry said. Fred threw his hands up.

“All your comments and hair ruffling! You’re making him uncomfortable!”

Diggory reared back in shock before his face became red. “I’m making him uncomfortable? Me? Really? I’m not the one constantly bothering him, calling him pet names and making a fuss in the library when all he wants to do is study!” 

“Oh, Cedric-” Harry started, but Fred cut him off. 

“You’re just jealous that I’m dating your ex-boyfriend!” Fred yelled. 

Before they could escalate even further, McGonagall rushed Diggory and his date into the Great Hall, followed by the other champions. Harry looked at Fred with wide, disbelieving eyes. 

“Cedric is not my ex!” he exclaimed. He hurriedly took his hand and dragged him into the hall where they were on display in front of all the students and faculty. Fred huffed and got into formation.

“I’m not an idiot, Harry. I know he’s the guy you were talking about,” Fred whispered loudly over the orchestral music. Harry looked pained. 

“Fred, that’s not- Cedric and I never- fuck!” Fred spun Harry as the other champions spun their dates and he realized he was leading once again and cursed. 

“Harry, you’re supposed to be the one leading, I’m not the champion,” Fred told him. But Harry stumbled over his feet when he tried to change their dynamic, and Fred really didn’t want to lose the bet, so he took over. 

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Harry said, his voice strained. Fred looked at everyone and saw the girls raising glasses of punch at him. 

“Godric, we should’ve practiced this more. Where were you when you ran off? You weren’t with Diggory, that’s for sure, as he was in the hall with me.” 

“I’m not seeing Cedric! I was- I was- Jesus, I just wanted one fucking night!” Harry exclaimed. Fred finally looked down at him and saw tears in his eyes. His face was flushed and he looked as upset as he did when Fred had confronted him about his beanie. 

“I just wish you would’ve told me, that’s all. And not be as buddy-buddy with him as you are,” Fred said softly. He couldn’t handle Harry crying. “I mean, how many firsts did you have with him? Was it just casual dating, or did you guys, like, snog- Harry?” 

Harry had let go of Fred and was rushing off the dance floor even though they still had about three minutes left of the dance. Fred saw McGonagall throw her hands up in distress, but he paid her no mind as he rushed after his could-he-still-call-him-his-potential-boyfriend. 

He was close to the doors when he felt someone grab his arm and stop him. He was spun around and met with Diggory glaring at him.

“What the hell did you say to him?” Diggory demanded. Fred threw his arm off, even though it was a strong grip. 

“He probably got offended by your ugly mug,” Fred remarked. He was getting really sick of Diggory popping up out of nowhere. Where had he been when Harry’s belongings had been destroyed on the train? Where had he been when Harry had spent all his time alone in the library?

“He was crying! What did you do?” 

Diggory’s date had stilled on the dance floor and looked upset that her date had left her. He nodded towards her. 

“Why don’t you worry about your Ravenclaw and stop worrying about mine.” Diggory’s face darkened. 

“Harry isn’t an object you can own, you self-aggrandizing prick!” 

“I could say the same thing to you! He isn’t your boyfriend anymore, lay off him!” 

“He was never my boyfriend in the first place!” Diggory shouted. “You know what? At least I actually care about him instead of just trying to get him into bed!” 

Fred stepped back in shock. Diggory’s smile twisted. 

“That’s right, Cho told me she saw you leaving his dorm multiple times. He’s a little young, don’t you think? But maybe that’s just your type. The vulnerable-” 

Fred reared back and flew his fist at Diggory’s stupid perfect face. It made a satisfying crunch and Fred grinned with all his teeth. He smiled wider when he heard the flash of a camera. He’d have to frame it when it came out. It was enough for him to ignore the extreme pain in his hand. He’d never thrown a punch before and he hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. 

“Don’t assume you know anything about my relationship with Harry. Leave him alone or else you’ll regret it.” 

He turned on his heel and ran out of the hall before he could get kicked out. He ran into George and Lee who were discreetly holding a flask. 

“Woah, what’s going on?” George asked with a smile. “Did I win the bet?”

“Have you seen Harry?” Fred asked distractedly. George’s smile fell. 

“No, why? Did something happen?” 

Fred scoffed. He held up his bruised knuckles. “I think I may have just gotten detention for life with photographic evidence.” 

“Story later?” George asked him. Fred nodded and clapped him on the shoulder before running off. 

He didn’t have enough time to check the map so he ran to the place where he had hoped Harry would take him to study stars, but was instead afraid Harry would be thinking things he really shouldn’t think. 

Lo and behold, he found Harry leaning against the iron fence on top of the astronomy tower. He was looking down at the water and his hair hung in his face, masking Fred’s view.

“Oh, honey,” Fred sighed. Harry looked up suddenly and there were tears streaming down his face. He sniffled and wiped his face, knocking his glasses slightly. Fred strode over to fix them, but Harry flinched backwards. 

“What are you doing up here?” Harry asked. 

“I was worried. Why’d you run off?” Fred asked. “I told you, I’m not mad about Diggory-”

“I never dated Cedric!” Harry said. “And why is it any of your business who I-I-” 

“Dated?” Fred supplied. Harry chuckled darkly with a grimace. 

“We never dated.” 

Fred blinked and scoffed. “And Diggory told me off for getting into bed with you.”

“What?” Harry said, his eyes snapping up to meet his. “Cedric said that?” 

“His date said she saw me leaving your dorm a few times. He made an assumption. But I guess… I mean, Godric, Harry, you don’t even let me kiss you, and yet you and Diggory shagged?” 

Harry flinched. “Where- where is this coming from?” he asked in a small voice. “Is that all you want from me?” 

“No!” Fred exclaimed. His hand throbbed in pain, most of the adrenaline having gone away, and he sighed frustratingly. “Of course not! Merlin, I just, I guess I don’t understand why you’d allow him to flirt with you in front of me, and not even tell me about it.” 

“He’s not flirting with me,” Harry denied, rolling his eyes. He turned away from Fred and wiped his face. “He’s my friend, or at least I thought he was. But if even he made comments on who I’m supposedly sleeping with…” 

“Because he’s obviously jealous,” Fred said, annoyed. He didn’t understand why Harry had to get so upset and run off. He not only lost the bet, but he was also going to get in trouble for punching Diggory- even though it was totally justified. 

“Jesus Christ, he’s not fucking jealous!” Harry shouted. Fred looked at him in surprise. 

“I think I would know what jealousy looks like, I’m kind of the poster child of it right now,” Fred remarked sardonically.

“God, why does this even matter?” Harry asked, running a hand through his hair. “What, are you going to cast me aside because you have some outdated opinions on possession?” 

“No!” He was offended that Harry even thought that of him. He groaned. He didn’t know why they were talking in circles like this. 

“Then why do you keep bringing it up?” Harry demanded. 

“Because I think I should have a right to know who you’ve dated!” Fred shouted. He didn’t understand how the night could go so wrong. He’d just wanted a fun night to dance with Harry and his friends. He didn’t know how they ended up here, in the shivering cold, shouting at each other. What really hurt was that Harry hadn’t even looked at him for the majority of their yelling match. “Oh, sorry, not ‘dated.’”

“Fuck you,” Harry spat. He leaned over the iron fence to stare into the water. “I thought you liked me but I guess I’m nothing more than an object to be used.” 

“I do like you! Not that you’ve ever expressed that you like me back!” He remembered how it had felt when Harry leaned away with terror in his eyes when he’d only wanted to kiss him. He remembered how it had felt chasing after Harry, only to be turned down again and again. The textbooks he’d spent hours copying were still in his trunk. 

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, finally looking up at Fred. To Fred’s surprise, Harry actually looked confused. 

“Well, it didn’t exactly feel good when you looked like I threatened you when I tried to kiss you!” Harry blanched and looked away. 

“That’s not- I didn’t look- you’re putting things out of context.” 

“What context?” Fred huffed out a laugh that was more a genuine release of frustration than an attempt at humor. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for months and you’ve given me no inclination that you want to! So either I’ve made it up in my head that you like me, or you’re still seeing Diggory.” 

He didn’t know what he’d do if Harry actually was with Diggory. Just the thought that Harry had been stringing him along this entire time made him want to fall to the ground in agony. It was one thing that they were exes, or whatever it meant when you only slept together, but it was an entirely different thing that the boy that he genuinely really liked could be seeing someone else and simply never told him. 

“I’m not- you don’t- God, I can’t just kiss you!” Harry exclaimed, his voice edging on desperation. It was a side to him that Fred had never seen, and it was one that he didn’t understand. He just wanted Harry to be honest. It was making him feel crazy that Harry was being so adamant on deflecting the truth. 

“Why not? You had no issue sleeping with Diggory!” Fred shouted, throwing his hands up in utter exasperation. 

“For fucks sake, it wasn’t Cedric, it was my teacher!” Harry screamed. As soon as he said it, it looked like he immediately regretted it. He stumbled backwards until he hit a pillar, and he slid down towards the ground, curling up like a wounded animal. 

Fred’s heart stuttered in his chest before it started thumping erratically. He opened his mouth to say something but found that his throat was dry. He attempted to swallow a couple of times as he watched Harry tremble on the ground, his knees flush to his chest and his hands fisting the robe that pooled around him. 

“What?” Fred managed to ask, his voice small. Suddenly it all made sense. The terror in Harry’s eyes. The flinches he would give whenever Fred tried to touch him. This stupid argument that fed on Fred pushing and pushing and pushing like the idiot that he was. 

“I didn’t say that,” Harry muttered in between gasps of breath. “I didn’t- I didn’t say that.” 

“Harry.” 

“No, no, I’m not- I’m lying,” his voice broke on that last word, giving way to a heartwrenching sob that motivated Fred to kneel down in front of him. 

Something inside of him twisted. It made him feel out of breath. It was like the dragon all over again, when he was so afraid that he’d lose Harry. He was aware of how close they were to the edge, fence or no. 

He’d thought the hardest thing he’d have to do tonight was following all the steps without making a fool of himself. He thought maybe he’d dance a bit, get a little drunk, and ask Harry to be his boyfriend.

“Who, honey? Was it a teacher here?” He’d kill them. He’d take that rusty looking dagger from Harry’s chatelaine and fucking stab whoever it was that was making Harry this upset. He tried thinking of every teacher they’d had, and he couldn’t come up with a name. He didn’t want to imagine that any one of them could do something as despicable as taking advantage of someone as sweet as Harry. 

His question changed something in Harry. He looked up at Fred with panicked, wide eyes and he stood up. Fred followed suit, watching with a heavy sinking feeling as Harry shook his head and started to walk away. 

“Forget it,” Harry said. “Just- just forget everything that happened tonight.” 

Fred couldn’t help himself by grabbing his arm to stop him from walking away, and was surprised by a strong gust of wind knocking him a couple steps backwards. 

“Don’t touch me,” Harry growled, cradling his arm to his chest as though Fred had hurt it. He pressed himself up against the opposite pillar, as if it was the only thing grounding him. 

“Okay,” Fred said breathlessly. “I’m sorry.” 

“Why do you even want to know?” Harry asked in a strained voice. His eyes were planted on the ground, but every time Fred even so much as shifted, his eyes twitched. 

“Because someone hurt you. I just want- need- to know who. Please.” He took a step forward, despite Harry’s flinch. “Please, Harry.”

Harry was silent for a long moment, his bottom lip being torn apart by his teeth. Fred could hear the waves crashing against the rocks all the way down below them, and it felt so incongruous that the world could continue to go on like this even though he felt so incredibly still. 

“It was in primary school,” Harry finally said. He was squeezing his wrist, twisting his hand around. “Before Hogwarts.” 

That breathless feeling was back. 

“But that would mean that you were just a…” Fred trailed off. His mind finished what his mouth couldn’t. A little kid.

A couple years ago, there’d been a party. Even as fourth years, Fred and George had connections to enough butterbeer and firewhisky distributors that it made sense to throw parties for quidditch and house cup parties. They originally believed that this was their best, this party. It wasn’t until the late hours of the night that they realized it was their worst. 

At this particular party, it’d escaped his and George’s attention that someone had drugged Katie, giving her a high concentration of calming potion with a love potion mixed in. If it wasn’t for Angelina, who’d noticed Katie was acting weird, they would have never gotten up to her room quick enough to stop the arsehole who’d tried to take advantage of her. Fred and George stopped throwing parties for months after this had happened, and it was only after Katie had said that she’d skin them alive if they didn’t continue upcharging firewhiskey for egregious prices that they lifted the ban. 

Fred wasn’t stupid, no matter how much his mum and teachers believed that he was; he knew what happened when one person said no and the other didn’t listen. There were stories of the war where muggleborn girls were assaulted and the pricks got off scot free because they’d been purebloods. 

He knew the horror stories. But that didn’t mean he wanted to hear it coming out of Harry’s mouth. 

“He’s in jail, so it doesn’t even matter,” Harry said, his voice breaking yet again and a sob wrenching from his throat. He covered his face with both hands, and Fred wanted to unravel them and convince him that he didn’t have to hide. Not from him. Never from him. 

He imagined a different version of this conversation, where Fred agreed, and they’d stop talking about it. But that version ended with their relationship, and Fred never gave up when things got hard. He hadn’t when his aunt demanded perfection from him, and he hadn’t when the small idea of starting a prank shop developed into a genuine one. He wouldn’t now. 

“It does to me.” But apparently that was the wrong thing to say, because Harry flinched again and started crying in earnest. It was horrible, unrelenting sobs that looked like it took every ounce of his energy. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, his breath hitching. Fred sighed and stepped forwards until there was only a slight distance between them.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Fred said sadly. “It’s me that needs to apologize. I shouldn’t have kept pushing you to answer me.” 

“No,” Harry gasped, shaking his head. His glasses were pushed up towards the top of his head, and he was pressing his palms in his eyes, and Fred wondered if it was hurting him or not. “No, no, it’s not- I can’t kiss you, Fred. Not when I- not when he- he, he-” 

“Okay,” Fred interrupted. Part of him wanted Harry to continue, to tell him every horrible detail as if he could take on that pain himself to save him, but another part of him wanted to keep it to himself. “You said he’s in jail, yeah? So… so did you tell anyone?” 

Because he couldn’t really fathom Harry telling anyone. He was so reserved, so stubborn in the secrets he let out. If it hadn’t been Fred basically forcing him to explain his absences from a couple weeks ago, he never would’ve figured out his depression. 

Harry let go of his face and Fred was met with the horrible display of his red and splotchy face, tear tracks covering his face. He wondered whether or not Harry had his handkerchief on him. 

“She didn’t believe me,” Harry muttered. And, oh. That explained a lot. 

Fred decided to damn himself and he pressed his shoulder against Harry’s. He expected the flinch, but he didn’t expect the rigidity that followed. 

“Your aunt didn’t believe you?” Fred asked. 

“My headmistress didn’t,” Harry confirmed in a small voice. “My aunt believed me. Said…” 

“What?” Fred coaxed. He didn’t really know anything about Harry’s aunt and uncle, other than the fact that he lived with them. Harry never talked about them. He never received any letters from them, but they were muggles, so surely that couldn’t be too odd, could it? 

“She said it was my fault,” Harry admitted. As if the words weren’t horrible enough, it was Harry’s complete and utter acceptance of them. 

“Surely you don’t believe that?” Fred demanded. Harry blinked and more tears fell from his eyes. “It’s not your fault. That man was sick and vile and he took advantage-” 

“I miss him sometimes.” 

“What?” Fred asked, shocked. 

“It’s just… he was the first person to tell me that they loved me. He’s the only person to tell me that, actually. And I know, I know what he did was wrong. I know that. He was doing it to two other kids at the time, and I know he said anything he could to use them too, but… but he told me I was his favorite, and I just, I don’t know. I don’t know.” Harry pushed up his glasses.

“Someone who would do that to you doesn’t love you,” Fred found himself saying, remembering old conversations with his mum. He wondered if Harry had ever received the stranger danger talk, but given how his aunt said it had been his fault, he doubted it. 

It was quiet for a long moment, and then Fred glanced up to find Harry looking at him with betrayal and genuine hurt in his eyes. 

Fred didn’t understand. Harry had just admitted that he knew the man’s love hadn’t been genuine, so why- why look so hurt? Why look like Fred had stabbed him? 

“Harry,” Fred whispered, unable to apologize. 

“Don’t do that,” Harry said, his face scrunched up in anger. “Don’t look at me like that, all pitying. You don’t know what it’s like to not- to never have been loved. To never have been cared for. So don’t look at me like that.” 

“I’m not-” he tried to say, but Harry stood up and went back to the iron fence, pushing his hands around the grills. 

“I thought it was real,” Harry admitted, his face looking out towards the sky. “And I know that makes me a complete and utter idiot, falling for his fake charm and his stupid gifts. But no one had ever given me books before, or stuffed animals, and he invited me over to dinner, and at least I’d be fed, and, and- you don’t get to stand there like you understand when you don’t!” 

“You’re right, I don’t,” Fred said cautiously. He’d stood up and stood beside Harry. “But I know that you didn’t deserve that. You were just a kid.” 

It felt like everything he’d been trying to say was just falling flat.

“I was never just a kid.” 

Fred didn’t know what to say to that. So he reached out a hand and enclosed it around Harry’s shaking one, trying not to take it to heart when Harry released a small whimper. 

“I didn’t want you to find out. I didn’t want our relationship to change,” Harry said quietly. “I like you calling me ‘honey’ and taking me to the forbidden forest to find potions ingredients. But when you tried to kiss me when we played quidditch, I-I don’t know. I was scared. Because with kissing comes, comes… well, sex. I can’t do it again. I can’t and I’m sorry.”

“We don’t have to kiss,” Fred assured him. At Harry’s sidelong glance, Fred jumped a little. “We don’t! We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do! Honest. I would never force you to do anything, because well, I…” he cut himself off and watched Harry’s disbelieving face. He thought about the hell that Harry had been through, and the hell that this conversation was probably making him feel, and he didn’t know how to convince him that everything would be okay, nor how to convince himself, so he sighed and said, “because I love you.”

He wasn’t sure if it was true or not. He’d never been in love. The only people he knew who were in love were his parents, and they weren’t the type to make big romantic speeches like this. Their love was more settled, more comfortable. It was a love that came with seven children, hundreds of compromises, and a leaning house. It was strength. Fred didn’t feel very strong in his relationship with Harry, or at all settled, but he did feel somewhat comfortable. Maybe not now, but definitely when they were in the library going through books, or in the alchemy classroom, or even at meals surrounded by Fred’s friends. 

He had no doubt that someday, maybe even soon, he would fall in love with Harry. So was it really awful that he was fibbing this? He didn’t think so when Harry turned to him and rammed his body into his and broke down crying. 

He didn’t think so when, after the tears abated, he walked Harry to his dorm and kissed him softly on the cheek. 

And he definitely didn’t think so when he said, with a lopsided grin, “hey, so this is possibly the worst time to ask, but I was wondering if you wanted to be my boyfriend?” and Harry responded tiredly but with a small smile, “you’re an idiot, but yes.” 

But afterwards, when he went to the Gryffindor common room and found George counting coins, he couldn’t help but feel like the worst human being alive. The party was still going on, despite the late hour. He sat next to him and pressed his shoulder into his just so he could feel normal again. 

“Hey,” George said. “Are you okay?”

Fred shook his head and bit down a sob. “Is, um, is Ron and Ginny okay? The girls? Lee? Are they- are they okay?” 

“Yeah, Ginny went to bed a couple hours ago. Alicia’s snogging some Hufflepuff girl, Lee’s trying to prank Snape, Ron and his friends got in a fight or whatever that actually took over the attention of everyone talking about your and Cedric’s fight. I think Angelina and Katie are having a drinking contest somewhere over there. Freddy, what’s going on?” 

He put his head in his hands and took a shaky breath. George put an arm around him and squeezed. 

“It’s okay, Fred. No one’s paying attention. It’s fine.” 

Those were the words that Charlie and George would tell him when he wanted badly to break down but couldn’t because no one expected him to be upset by anything. He bottled things up, they told him. He tried so badly not to let it get to him, but sometimes it was too much. This was definitely too much. Maybe he had more in common with Harry than he’d originally believed. 

It was unfair that Harry had gone through that and no one tried to help him. It was unfair that still no one tried to help him. It was unfair that Fred was the only one that could look after him despite being too young for this kind of shit. It was unfair how fucking terrified he was of losing him. 

Fred broke down in George’s hold for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

Fred found Harry in the kitchens. He’d been previously preoccupied with opening Christmas gifts and then spending a couple hours in the common room with his family. He’d been worried that Harry would be completely alone today, but from not so discreet checks on the map that he’d all but taken back from Ron and Monty, Harry’d been in the kitchens for almost the whole morning. 

He only observed in the doorway as Harry rolled out dough at a much slower rate than the house elves surrounding him. That one house elf from all those weeks ago was having a conversation with him that made him laugh, and a smile spread on Fred’s face. 

He couldn’t hear what they were saying due to the noises of whisks hitting bowls, of oven doors opening and closing, and general commands to get Christmas dinner prepared. 

He stepped forward, but was immediately stopped by two house elves who looked flustered. 

“Tilly is sorry, but yous is not being permitted to be entering,” Tilly the house elf said apologetically. The house elf next to them nodded their head emphatically. 

Fred gestured towards Harry. “But he’s here!” 

Tilly and the other house elf shared a look before straightening up and gave what he assumed was a smile. “Tilly and Lola have no idea what mister is talkings about. There is only kitchen elves preparing for the glorious Christmas dinner.” 

Before Fred could beg them to let him in, Harry said, “Wait! Could Fred join? Just for today? If anything goes wrong you can kick me out for the rest of the school year.” 

A tiny house elf who was standing next to him slapped him on the arm. “No, no! Harry visits us so little! Mummy, please tell him his friend can join! Please? Please!” 

Harry laughed and then looked at the other house elf standing by him. She looked older, with more wrinkles around her wide eyes and her ears droopier than the others. But she looked wise, with a knowing glint in her eyes that Fred instantly understood that she was not someone to mess with. 

The elf looked at Fred and then back at Harry. “Is he the one you told us about?” she asked. Oddly enough, unlike the other house elves, her accent was more posh, with enunciated vowels. 

Harry looked down bashfully. “Uh, yeah. Wiley, I promise I’ll keep an eye on him. Please?” 

Wiley set her eyes on Fred and it took everything in him not to fidget. It felt like he was meeting his boyfriend’s mother. Maybe, in some strange way, he was. 

“If you don’t keep an eye on him, I will,” Wiley said. She moved off her footstool and dragged her daughter with her so there was an empty space next to him. Harry beamed as he waved him over. 

“Hi, honey,” Fred smiled. “Do you usually cook with the house elves?” 

“Kitchen elves,” Harry corrected. He started mixing flour and sugar together in a bowl. “But, yeah. Wiley basically saved me my second year during Christmas hols when I was so sick I couldn’t move, and then she invited me to cook with them once I got better. I don’t do it as often as I used to, but it’s still nice. Honestly, though, I’m really just in the way.” 

He was a lot slower than the rest of the elves, but that was because they were using magic. He was doing everything by hand, something not even Fred’s mum did. 

Fred wondered why Harry didn’t do magic. Were the squib allegations not as false as he had believed? Maybe he was just self-conscious. 

“Roll this out, will you?” Harry asked as he plopped the dough on the counter. Fred whipped his wand out to mutter a flattening spell as Harry held out a rolling pin. Harry looked at Fred’s wand in confusion.

“There’s charms for this, you know. My mum would never get dinner on the table if it weren’t for her housekeeping magazines and books.” 

“Oh,” Harry said softly, his cheeks reddening. “I mean, I guess I knew that magic could do all this but I thought it was just an elf thing.” 

“Do you want me to teach you some?” Fred asked. “Here! Say ad volvunt adipem and flick your wand out like this.” He waited for Harry to get his wand out and try but Harry only bit his lip before rolling the dough out by hand. 

“I think I’m good the old fashioned way,” Harry said with a chuckle that didn’t sound at all natural. Maybe there was something to the rumors. But, well, magic wasn’t everything. His uncle was a squib. His dad talked about his brother sometimes when he drank too much spiced rum on holidays, but it always seemed like the muggle world wasn’t too bad. His dad was certainly fascinated with it. Fred had never met his uncle, but he assumed he was doing good. Content with life without magic. Maybe Harry was the same. So he shrugged and helped Harry make bread the muggle way. Even though it took more than twice the time it would take if they had just used magic. 

He looked around and saw that older house elf glaring at him. Her daughter kept whispering things to her before pointing at him. He waved a flour covered hand and she squealed before ducking into her mother’s body. He smiled and turned back to the counter. She reminded him of Ginny.

“Are you okay?” he asked Harry in a low voice. He wasn’t going to bring it up today, seeing as it’s Christmas and all, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t not bring it up. He kind of regretted it when Harry stilled and zoned out a little. 

“Yeah,” Harry muttered after a long moment. “Are… are we okay?”

Fred’s heart broke a little but he pushed the pain away. He didn’t like seeing Harry so unsure of himself, but it was such a familiar feeling it made him feel useless. But Harry told him he didn’t want their relationship to change so he nudged Harry’s shoulder with his and gave him a smile. 

“Honey, we’re more than okay.” Harry’s bright smile was worth the unsettled feeling in his stomach. 

To be honest, Fred didn’t know what to think. The thought of Harry going through that and feeling like he had to keep it a secret made him want to shudder. I miss him sometimes. Fred didn’t understand, but that was likely a good thing. He just had to show Harry what it was like to have someone actually care about him and treat him right.

Harry popped the loaf of bread in the oven and turned to Wiley. “Is there anything else?” 

Wiley snapped her fingers and a tray of cookies floated over to them. “Yes. You can test these to make sure they’re good enough to put on the table.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Wiley.” 

She pointed towards the table with her long, spindly fingers and Harry huffed. But he grabbed Fred by the arm and sequestered them to the other side of the room where four long tables sat in a reminder of the Great Hall. They sat at the Gryffindor table. 

“So is this what you do every Christmas? Bake with the house elves?” Fred asked as he picked up a cookie from the tray. Harry was crumbling one in his hands. 

“Pretty much, yeah. And they’re kitchen elves. There’s the laundry elves and corridor elves, and the herbology elves, and it goes on and on. They all have different jobs to do, and usually they only converse with each other. I’ve worked with the laundry elves and the Ravenclaw house elves, but the kitchens is my favorite. And it’s where Wiley is, so.” 

Fred propped his elbow on the table and rested his face against his fist. “Wiley’s kinda like your mum, huh?” 

Harry spluttered. He looked at him incredulously. “What? Fred, no! Where’d you get that idea?” 

Fred shrugged. “I dunno. She looks after you like she looks after her daughter. Even just being here for the past thirty minutes she’s eyed me like Mum eyed every single one of Bill’s girlfriends before he got the memo not to bring them around to the Burrow.”

When Harry looked at him like Fred should get his head checked out, he reached over the table and bopped him on the nose. “Protective, I mean. Like I’m stealing her precious baby boy.” 

Harry blushed and looked away. “You’re cracked.” He then laughed. “I mean, Wiley’s nice and everything. She’s stern but also kind, and she hates most humans but she tolerates me, but that’s only because I almost died under her watch a couple years ago. If anything, she pities me. I mean, she definitely pities me.” 

Fred contemplated Harry. He then looked across the kitchens to find Wiley staring him down before getting distracted by her daughter. “I really do think she cares for you, honey,” Fred assured him softly. “Maybe not in a conventional way, but I don’t think there’s any pity there.” 

Nothing about house elves being close to humans was conventional. Usually they were separated. Upstairs, downstairs kind of relationship. But Harry was not conventional. That was one of the reasons Fred liked him so much.

But he didn’t want to argue today. And he knew Harry enough by now to know that following this trail of conversation would only result in an argument. He leaned across the table and fixed his glasses. 

“Have you been reading anything good lately?” he asked him. Harry’s face lit up and Fred smiled at him adoringly as he listened intently.

*

“You can spend Christmas with your family,” Harry said as they walked up the steps towards the sixth floor. It took everything not to reach out and hold his hand. 

“I know,” Fred said. “I spent the morning with them. But the castle is usually pretty empty at Christmas, but with the ball, it’s not like that. So I don’t need to worry about George spending it all alone, or Ginny, or Ron.” 

Harry tilted his head at him. “You’re a really good brother.” 

Fred narrowed his eyes. “Me? Have you met me? I’m the reason Ron has a fear of spiders, you know. And if you talked to my mum for even a minute-” 

“Nah,” Harry said, shaking his head. He stopped on the steps and turned to look at him. “You can’t fool me, Fred Gideon Weasley. You’re a good brother.”

Harry was taller than him due to the stairs. His hair was spilling out of the blue and yellow beanie and it curled around his ears and neck. Fred wanted to run his fingers through it, and his desire was made even worse the way Harry looked at him with almost half-lidded eyes. He wasn’t looking at his eyes, he realized. Harry was staring at his lips, but he had a furrow between his brows, looking unsure.

A thrill ran through Fred, but he reminded himself to stay patient and calm. He meant what he said the night before. He’d never pressure Harry to do anything he didn’t want to do. That included staying in this close proximity. 

“I’m afraid you’re the only person who thinks so,” Fred said. He was embarrassed to find that his voice had gone thick. He glanced away with a flush and cleared his throat. He maneuvered around Harry and gestured to the floor. “So what did you want to show me?” 

Harry smirked and grabbed his hand. He was always so surprised to find that his hands weren’t as soft as the rest of his body looked. Instead, they were rough. It was ridiculously attractive. 

He shook his awful thoughts away as Harry led him to a dead end with only a tapestry of trolls doing ballet. 

“This is going to sound barmy,” Harry told him. His eyes were shining. “But you have to trust me.” 

Fred unconsciously took a step forward. “Always.” 

Harry’s lips curled before they straightened. “Think of a place really hard. It could be anywhere. Just hold onto the thought and pace three times back and forth across the stretch of this hallway.” 

“Really?” Fred asked with a laugh. “What’s this about?” 

Harry looked at him with pleading eyes. “Trust me, yeah?” 

Well, that wasn’t hard to do. So Fred gave him a wink before shutting his eyes tightly and paced across the floor three times. And his professors said he couldn’t follow instructions. 

“Open your eyes,” Harry told him in a soft voice Fred wanted to swim in. Fred obeyed and blinked when he saw a door on the previously blank wall. Harry was smiling at him with anticipation and it was enough to make Fred’s heart flutter in his chest. 

But he also was confused. He’d used the map for most of his adolescent years at Hogwarts and never had he seen a door that cropped up out of nowhere. He wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing, so he held out a hand to Harry, who took it with a soft blush, and strode towards the mysterious door. 

“Woah,” he breathed as he stepped in the room. 

“What is this place?” Harry asked beside him. The door closed shut behind them. 

“It’s my great aunt’s flat,” Fred said in wonder. Everything was exactly the way it had been the last time he’d been, sans the cats and aunt. There were wall to wall bookshelves filled with varying books on pureblood politics and history, family genealogy, and even the muggle poetry books he often would peruse during his breaks. 

The uncomfortable bright orange rug took up most of the space. There were bald patches on it due to the cats clawing up the fibers. There was the tea stain he had caused and never cleaned up because his aunt had wanted him to try using his accidental magic to fix it, but he never succeeded. 

It smelled like potpourri and cat litter. It was a crowded space and he had spent many afternoons here just so his siblings didn’t have to, but it had shaped him. 

“She was a batty old woman who dreamed of far more than I could ever give her, but I do miss her,” Fred said softly as he trailed his fingers along the tassels of a tapestry depicting a former minister of magic. 

He felt Harry enclose his fingers between his and squeeze his hand. He tore his gaze away from the tapestry. 

“How long has it been?” Harry asked. Fred hummed. 

“She died in first year. I still have the last letter she ever sent me. She asked me to promise her to uphold the family name and make her and my parents proud. I think she would probably have a heart attack if she knew the kind of things I’ve gotten up to since then. But that’s okay,” he shrugged, looking away from Harry’s inquisitive and sympathetic eyes. “I got a letter from my mum saying she had passed before I could promise her I would.”

“I think she would be proud. I certainly am.” 

Fred turned to Harry. His mouth twitched. 

“Ah, the woes of a misunderstood identical twin,” he sighed dramatically. 

“Is that why you kept going to lessons? Because it was yours, not George’s and not another one of your brother’s?” 

Harry was too inquisitive for his own good. Maybe it was selfish, but that was part of it. He really did think his siblings would hate it, having to learn all about pureblood ways, but it was an escape from the Burrow. He loved his family, he really did. He would do anything and everything for them. 

But he did feel misunderstood a lot of the time. He was always lumped in with George, as if they weren’t two different people. Having the same face as someone else could be taxing. But it wasn’t something he and George ever talked about. It felt like crossing some sort of line- like he would be betraying him if he admitted it. 

“I don’t think you’re a bad person for wanting something that’s just yours,” Harry said. “Everyone does.” 

“Yeah? What’s yours?” Fred asked him. He leaned his chin on Harry’s head and held his other hand. 

“You,” Harry whispered into his throat. It sent shivers down Fred’s spine. He leaned back. An overwhelming rush of adoration and lust hit him suddenly. 

“You do,” Fred promised. He kissed him on the forehead. “You do, you do,” he repeated. He kissed him on both cheeks and had to stop himself before he set his lips upon Harry’s. He squeezed his hands. “You do, honey. You have no idea how much.” 

“I want to kiss you,” Harry whispered. His eyes were shining, but his face was set in a frown. “But I’m- I’m afraid.” 

“That’s okay,” Fred said. “We don’t have to. We never have to. I’m still yours.”

Harry’s face twisted, as if he didn’t believe him, but he schooled it. “Happy Christmas, Fred.”

Fred looked around the room. He then looked at Harry with a teasing smile. “You didn’t apparate us here, did you? That’s not what this room does?” 

Harry laughed. “No! Apparition is impossible in Hogwarts, unless you’re an elf.” He twisted out of Fred’s embrace. He grabbed a book from the bookshelf. He flipped it open and showed Fred blank pages. “It’s an illusion based on memories.” 

“So like transfiguration?” 

“Yeah!” Harry beamed. “It grants the user what they want to see and it conjures up items and then transfigures them to look like the memory. That’s why the books have titles that you recognize but it’s blank inside. Unless you read this book back to back hundreds of times, there’s no way the books would have words inside.

“Although, some of the books, like this one- oh, and this one, have words because they’re either in the Hogwarts library or in the Room of Forgotten Things.” 

“The what?” Fred asked, looking at one of the muggle poetry books he’d loved as a kid. Christina Rosetti. He had no idea why his aunt had been so enamored with muggle art, but she had always told him a well-rounded mind was important. No wonder the Prewetts had been disgraced and killed off during the war. Their minds had been too well-rounded. 

“Oh, right. Well, this room can also turn into a lost and found. It’s where I found my outfit for the ball. Thousands of Hogwarts students over the centuries have lost so many items, and no one was using them, so, uh, I might have taken some of them. Or a lot of them.” 

Harry was looking away and rubbing his jumper. Fred had thought it was weird that Harry, so entrenched in the muggle world as he was, was wearing a garment that had stitched bowtruckles on it. Something tickled in the back of his mind, and he ended up wondering about a lot of Harry’s clothing items. 

His uniform was outdated. Even the tie was outdated, with slightly different hues of blue and bronze than the rest of the students’ ties. His quills always looked used or like someone had cast a hasty repair spell on it. Then there was the fact that he didn’t have any textbooks.

He wanted to ask Harry why he had to rely on stealing items from a lost and found rather than buying them himself, but he held his tongue. It was supposed to be a happy, carefree day. Harry deserved it, especially after last night. He’d ask another day, and figure out the rest of his boyfriend’s mysteries.

Fred held him in his arms once again and swayed them back and forth as he hummed a melody to a song he wasn’t sure was real or not. 

*

He’d lent gloves for Harry for their annual snowball fight. He was on his team, obviously. It was more than a little disconcerting that Monty was on the opposite team, but he was trying to ignore it for the sake of Weasley tradition. 

“So you’re not allowed to use magic?” Harry asked him as he formed snowballs. They had commandeered the snowy area right by the lake and where the gobstones team usually practiced. Small forts made of snow were built up around. It was a bigger game than usual since a lot of the Gryffindors, including the quidditch team, had wanted to join. 

“That would be cheating,” George said as he built his own snowballs. They were going to start at any minute. Fred anticipated that it would be their most chaotic battle yet.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Harry sighed. Fred and George shared a look. 

“Why, Harry,” George started.

“If we didn’t know any better,” Fred continued. 

“And we certainly don’t,” George assured him. 

“Then we would believe-” 

“That you have-” 

“Something to share!” They both finished. Harry leveled them with a deadpan look. 

“If you do that again I’m not sharing.” 

George cackled and Fred pecked Harry’s nose. 

“Apologies,” Fred said. Harry rolled his eyes and pushed Fred off of him, but he was smiling. He pointed towards Ron and Monty’s fort.

“What if you animate that snowman over there? Have the snowman create snowballs and then at the end, have it fall on their heads? They’ll lose immediately.” 

“Wow,” George said, as Fred stared at his boyfriend in wonder. “That’s an ingenious plan. Too bad none of us can do animation.” 

Harry blinked. “What do you mean?” 

“Honey, animation is only taught for seventh years and even then it’s really difficult. It’s considered an extra credit point for the NEWTs,” Fred explained. 

“But-” Harry started, but he was cut off from Ron shouting at the top of his lungs. 

“CHARGE!” 

The three of them ducked into the safety of the snow fort that Fred enforced with a handy little charm that wasn’t regulation. They waited a moment for the snowballs to pelt the fort before throwing their own. 

It was a much bigger game than previous years. Instead of two main snow forts, there were a few scattered around the space. Fred, Harry, and George were on one team while Hermione, Ron, and Monty were on another. A few other teams were made up of the Gryffindor quidditch team while Ron’s roommates were on another team with Ginny and her friend Colin. But Fred’s main target was Ron. Somehow Ron had managed to win last year’s game and Fred and George were expecting retribution. 

Harry was making snowballs as quickly as possible, but they kept burning through them. They’d under-calculated, something that he knew would be their downfall unless they acted fast. They were getting hit at almost every angle due to all the different groups. 

“We’re losing!” Fred shouted over the sound of snow hitting snow and the laughs and shrieks from everyone. 

“I know, Freddy,” George said as he peeked over the fort to throw a snowball at Katie, who had her sights set on Colin. She probably thought a third year would be easier to get than any of them. 

“We need to get the others out before we focus on your brother,” Harry said. Fred looked over and balked at the amount of snowballs Harry had managed to make. It was almost one feet high, almost as high as the fort itself. 

“Holy shit,” George whistled. “Did you use magic?” 

Harry flushed and Fred hit George’s arm. They didn’t need Harry being all self-conscious about squib stuff right now. “Shut up.” 

“Godric, sorry, sorry,” George said absently as he threw a snowball at Ginny. She managed to avoid it, the sneaky thing. She was shaping up to show much more potential than they thought she had previously possessed. 

Harry pressed a snowball to Fred’s gloved hand and he flung his arm back to throw it at Angelina. He whooped when it hit her face. 

“Oh, you little-” 

“Watch out, Miss Johnson,” George called out. “There are impressionable kids about!” 

“Why are the only two beaters on the team together, anyway?” Ron’s roommate, Dean, shouted from behind his fort. “It’s not fair!” 

“We’re a package deal!” Fred exclaimed. 

“Yeah, deal with it!” George said. Just for that, they nodded to each other and managed to get Dean out. 

On and on it went, with everyone throwing snowballs at each other and trying to get rid of their forts to make them vulnerable. It was the longest game they’d played, and it still wasn’t over. Fred’s team, Ron and Monty, and Ginny were left. Just like it always ended. 

“You need to fake-out,” Harry told them as he peeked above the fort to inspect the masses. He pushed up his fogged glasses. “George, pretend to throw a snowball at Ron, but Fred will actually throw it.”

“I don’t know,” George said. “We’ve tried that before, it never works.” 

Fred clapped George on the shoulder. “This is the last stretch, Georgie. It’s the best we can do.”

George looked at the dwindling pile of snowballs before nodding. They were running out of snow. Fred just had to hope that the others were also running out. 

They set the plan in motion. What Fred didn’t anticipate was that when Fred flung his arm over the fort, Harry would throw his own snowball at Ginny as she was throwing one at Monty. 

George shouted as snow hit his cheek, courtesy of Ron. Then it went quiet and no more snowballs were thrown at either of the forts. Fred exchanged a look with Harry. 

“Wait, did we do it? Did we win?” 

Harry’s face broke into a wide smile. Fred tackled him into the snow and peppered his face with kisses. He looked over the fort and saw Ron helping Monty up, snow covering his face.

He jumped up. He grabbed Harry’s arm and picked him up in his arms.

“WE DID IT! WE WON!” Fred shouted as he spun his boyfriend around. It was made better by Harry’s sweet laughter. 

“Oh, yeah, celebrate as your brother was hit,” George remarked, but when Fred looked at him, he was smiling softly. 

“It was for the good of the team!” Harry said. Fred and George exchanged glances. 

“Did you sacrifice my brother?” Fred asked him, setting him down. Harry’s smile slid off his face and he spluttered. 

“Well, I just thought- Ginny was gunning for Monty the entire game so I knew she would- but I needed a distraction- I just-” 

“Merlin, do I want to kiss you right now,” Fred growled. “You clever little Ravenclaw!” He picked him up again and spun him around once more. 

“Fred!” Harry exclaimed. “Put me down!” 

Fred complied, but not without one more spin. When he set Harry down, he stumbled a little, but he was laughing so Fred figured he didn’t do much wrong. He could live in this moment forever. Just him and Harry together laughing after winning a game. He wished so fervently that Harry was a Gryffindor so they could be on the same quidditch team. They’d be unstoppable, the pair of them. Unfortunately, this was reality. 

“I’d heard of stories of the famous Weasley snowball fights from my son, but I had to come out to see it for myself,” he heard a posh, smooth, deep voice say. Fred looked up and swallowed, an unsettled feeling in his stomach forming. He looked down at his boyfriend, who looked like a younger but almost identical version of the man standing just a few yards away. 

Harry’s smile wiped off his face and a tense expression replaced it. Fred wanted to smooth the creases out of his face. He grabbed his hand instead. 

“Dad!” Monty exclaimed, rushing to James Potter. “You made it!”

“Of course I did,” Potter said as he looked at Monty with a beaming, proud smile. He embraced him and Harry’s grip in Fred’s hand slackened a bit. “I wrote to you that I would. It’s Christmas, after all!” 

Fred couldn’t help but look at Harry in this moment. Harry’s face was closed off, just like it had been at the library a couple months ago when he thought Fred was only taunting him and making fun. 

“Come on, love,” Fred told him softly, guiding Harry away from the spectacle. He looked back as they were halfway towards the entrance to the building, and George winked at him as he distracted everyone with an impromptu bonus round of snowball fighting. 

*

He led Harry towards the library. “It’s closed today,” Harry mumbled. His face was still closed off and his eyes were a tad foggy. “It’s always closed on Christmas.” 

“Did you ever spend Christmas with them?” Fred couldn’t help but ask.

“First year I did. They invited me to their manor . It turned out to be a publicity stunt so they could answer where I’d been all those years. It would’ve been fine, but I freaked out at the cameras and the flashing lights and all the people berating me with questions. They took me back to Hogwarts an hour later and that was the last time we ever really interacted.” Harry’s voice was calm and detached, like he was commenting on homework rather than the indignity that it was. His eyes were far away and untrained on anything. 

“Christmas with my mum is awful,” Fred blurted out. Harry blinked rapidly for a few seconds, his eyes lighting up. 

“What?” 

“I mean, it’s awful with both parents, actually. Everyone thinks so, that’s why we always spend it here. Mum gets in a tizzy, always fussing about everything being perfect. She always yells at one of us and threatens to ground us, and then on Christmas morning acts like she wasn’t a mess just hours before. And Dad gets drunk and talks about his depressing childhood. Always acts like his older brother is going to visit, but he never does, and then when he doesn’t, Dad gets contemplative and sad. I hate seeing him sad. And then Mum yells at him because he’s sad and ruining the day. It’s- I love my family. I do.” 

“I know,” Harry said. He stepped closer to Fred and placed his arms around his waist. “I know you do, Fred.” 

Fred swallowed the guilt and nodded. “They’re a lot. Mum always ends up being just as sad as Dad when Charlie and Bill neglect to come and by the end of the night they’re both drunk and miserable. And George and I always tried to lighten the mood when we were younger but…” 

“But?” Harry asked. Fred sighed and shut his eyes. 

“Usually we ended up making it worse. Ginny usually ended up crying because everyone else was crying, and Percy always had a meltdown and shouted at everyone to grow up before slamming his door and hiding in his room for the rest of the day, and Ron always threw a fit for always getting hand-me-downs. And what was George and I supposed to do? Not try to help? But we usually ended up making it much worse.” 

“So you spend Christmas at Hogwarts.” 

Fred looked down. He saw understanding in Harry’s eyes. “So we spend Christmas at Hogwarts.” 

He always felt like a total and complete git whenever Christmas would roll around and his mum would send letters asking whether he was going to go home or not. Usually Percy answered in his detached, prattish way, but last year was the first year that he had to take the brunt of the questioning himself. They hadn’t wanted to miss out on the splendor that was Christmas at Hogwarts, he wrote to her. At least this year he hadn’t had to do that. 

He loved his family. He loved his parents. He would do anything and everything for them. But…

“You’re not a bad person for needing space,” Harry told him.

“No?” Fred asked, disbelieving of it. Harry shook his head and surprised Fred by kissing him on the cheek. 

“No, not at all.”

How could a single peck on the cheek be so electrifying? It was just like when Harry spoke his full name, only ten times more powerful. 

“You really are brilliant, you know,” Fred whispered. He watched as Harry dug his teeth into his bottom lip. 

“I could say the same thing about you,” Harry said coyly. Fred beamed at him before walking backwards. He stopped at the library doors. “Fred, the library’s closed.” 

“Pince owed me a favor,” Fred shrugged. When Harry tilted his head in confusion, Fred opened the doors with the special key he’d been holding onto for the entire day and unlocked the doors. They opened with a satisfying click and he pushed them dramatically so Harry could enter. 

“You got me the library on Christmas,” Harry said with a bright smile. Fred was the one who tilted his head this time. 

“Oh, honey, this is not the entire present.” At Harry’s inquisitive look, Fred continued with a sly smile. “Follow me.” 

He led them towards the muggle history section, so secluded it was from the rest of the library. It was decorated with all the blankets and pillows Fred could find. He’d stolen some of them, but he could always return them the next day… or maybe after Christmas break. Pince never came to this section anyway. 

He’d taken empty potion bottles and put small bluebell flames in them, and then strung string around the tops and hung them around the alcove. He’d asked the kitchen elves the day before for snacks (luckily Wiley hadn’t been there- he doubted she would’ve allowed it if she knew he was trying to seduce her pseudo-son). A stack of Harry’s favorite books were sitting in piles around the hung up blankets, along with some that Fred thought he’d like. 

“Looks like we both got each other places,” Fred said in the silence that followed the reveal. He was buzzing with anxiety. He didn’t have any money that he could spend, so he couldn’t have gotten Harry a physical present, but he hoped this was good enough. However, he got him a section of a library he often hung out in. Harry literally brought him to a place that could create Fred’s wildest imaginations. If it were a contest, Harry would completely annihilate him.

“No one’s ever-” Harry said, his voice breaking. He put his head in his hands, pushing his glasses up. Fred took a step forward but hesitated to put his hands on him like he wanted.

“Oh, Merlin, is it awful? I’m really bad at giving gifts. Once I got George a subscription to banana pudding because I thought it was funny, but George got so sick of it that for months we just had containers of banana pudding rotting in the corner of our room. We still can’t smell banana without wanting to throw up.”

Harry slowly lowered his hands to show wet eyes. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” 

Fred tsked and wiped his tears away with both his thumbs. “No crying on Christmas, darling.” 

Harry bit his lip before his lips curled up ever so slightly. “Before I met you, I was just… drifting. Spending all my days hidden away in complete and utter loneliness because it’s all I’ve ever known. I never spoke unless spoken to. I counted it, you know. How many days it took before someone asked me a question so I could speak. Thirty-three days. It took thirty-three days for someone to ask me a question. And then you-” Harry cut off and laughed. His eyes were still shining with tears but it was accompanied with a grin. “Thank you.” 

There’d been few moments of true clarity in Fred’s life. The first had been when he was five years old and he realized what it meant to truly have someone other than himself to look after. The second had been when he was nine and his great aunt had told him that even though pureblood culture was dying out, it didn’t mean that he couldn’t do something with the very little station he had. The third had been when he was eleven trying to figure out how to mourn a woman no one, not even him, had understood, and turning against all her lessons in order to try to figure out his place in a world she had failed to prepare him for. When he was thirteen and he fully understood the consequences of that action. 

And now. The night before, he’d told Harry he loved him out of fear and desperation to make him feel better. He’d never been in a relationship before, never even really wanted to, but he couldn’t doubt the affection he felt for Harry. He was quickly finding that, just like he would do anything and everything for his family, he would do the same for Harry.

Fred tried to contain all his overwhelming thoughts into a single kiss on the top of Harry’s head before letting him go and gesturing towards the pile of pillows and books. For the rest of the day, they sat together and ate snacks and read. It was the best Christmas he’d ever had.

Chapter Text

Hols were chaotic. A lot of people had ended up leaving for their parents by floo or by Hogsmeade, but most stayed. There were a lot of rules and restrictions to make sure that they weren’t just having one big sleepover, but the lack of classes was felt by everyone, even teachers. 

George and him had ended up pulling a couple pranks for old times sake, taking long enough breaks from product experimentation and budgets. Planning a business was quite tiresome, especially with no physical capital. Their letter to Bagman’s ex-wife had resulted in nothing, and the letter to Bagman’s mum had returned unopened. 

It was so bad that George was reading up on Ministry careers.

“It is not that dire!” Fred argued as he researched alternatives to a very expensive mushroom that they couldn’t afford in an old, dusty book he’d found in a derelict section in the library. 

“Yes, it is,” George said as he read the egregious pamphlet that listed all the Ministry jobs that Percy had sent them at the beginning of the year. Twat. “Fred, we have no money. I don’t think Bagman will get back to us, and if we do find him, he probably doesn’t have the money.” 

“So we hire a solicitor and sue him!”

George leveled him with a stare. “With what money?” 

“It’s just not fair,” Fred grumbled, flipping a page with more power than needed. “That was our life savings. Now we don’t have savings, and without this shop, we won’t have lives.” 

“Why do you think I’m looking at jobs?” George said as he flipped a flap in the pamphlet. “A few years of working here will get us back on track.”

“I’d rather eat a hippogriff’s toenails than work for the Ministry. Could you even imagine what Percy would say? Mum?” 

“The Ministry is the only place where we’re likely to be hired. It’s that or be paid scraps working in some shop in Knockturn.” 

Godric, George could be so reasonable. He hated that about him. He turned his head and watched as Harry scribbled something on a piece of paper. His cheeks were flushed, and he was very obviously trying not to get caught up in the same argument they’d been having for the past couple of weeks. 

He leaned towards him and smiled when he saw a sketch of one of their planned products- the Thor’s Thunder Crackers, which would be a rocket. It warmed him that Harry was helping with the shop. It felt like something they could all do together. Him, George, and Harry. Everything he needed. 

“What do you want to do after school, Harry?” Fred asked. Harry looked up. He had an ink stain on the tip of his nose from his quill that Fred very politely didn’t wipe clean since he knew George would not take well from public displays of affection. 

“Oh, I dunno. I never really thought about it. I don’t even know what jobs there are,” Harry shrugged. 

“You could always work at the Ministry with Freddy and I,” George said with a smirk. “We’ll be working in the misuse of muggle artifacts department with dear old Da.’” 

“Shut up,” Fred said with no heat. He propped his chin on his palm and watched as Harry artfully shaded Thor’s hammer. 

“With my grades?” Harry scoffed. His voice was always much harsher when he was being self-deprecating, and always was louder than his normal soft voice. “Doubtful.”

“We’ll work something out,” Fred promised. They wouldn’t rest on their laurels and become government servants, Merlin forbid. He just had to be crafty and clever and all other c-words. They’d manage. They had to. 

*

Fred fingered the crumpled up note in his pocket, dragging his nails across the smooth parchment. With his other hand, he raised it with a heavy feeling in his stomach and rapped it against the door. He entered without a word, and as he stepped through, he was met with the familiar scent of mint and cedar. 

“Mister Weasley, please sit down,” McGonagall instructed. She was scribbling something with her signature red ink. He took his usual seat and ignored the door as it shut with the absent wave of McGonagall’s wand. 

The first time he’d stepped foot in McGonagall’s office had been in his first year, when she broke the news about his great aunt. Mum hadn’t wanted him to read it in a letter. She always thought those kinds of things were callous. But Fred respected it more than having to bear his emotions in public with people. 

McGonagall had expected him to cry when she told him. She had expected him to be sorrowful, at the very least. But he’d just remembered feeling… inconsequential. All the lessons had amounted to that? All those stuffy afternoons had resulted in her dying before she could even see if he lived up to her promises? 

When he and George played pranks- at least one a week- after that, she had given him leeway, calling it grief of all things. She very quickly realized he was abusing that pretense. Something had to come from all those wasted hours, after all. 

Fred knew the ins and outs of McGonagall’s office very well, almost as well as his own dorm. The tin of biscuits was in the bottom left drawer. The painting above her chair was made by an old friend, but Fred never knew who. All he knew was that it was oddly dark and morose considering it was of a snowdrop, and had the initials TMR in the far right corner. There was a crochet cat in the same colors as McGonagall’s own animagus form on a shelf across from the door next to a perpetually dying plant that Neville Longbottom grumbled about when he thought people weren’t listening. 

McGonagall’s office was cozy but also functional. But it also had the effect of being intimidating to those she set her steel, disappointed eyes on. The same ones she was glaring at him now. 

“To what do I owe the honor?” Fred asked, leaning back in his chair. McGonagall’s mouth twisted. 

“I gave very clear instructions before the ball. Do not disappoint your schools.” 

“I didn’t disappoint my house. Diggory did, he was the one who started it all.” 

McGonagall sighed a long-suffering sound that betrayed how tired she really seemed, and Fred couldn’t help but shift in his seat. 

“There were photographers there, Mister Weasley. That awful Skeeter woman was there with that equally odious quick quill of hers. I would not doubt that she used what happened as fodder for that gossip rag she calls a newspaper.” 

Fred tapped the tips of his shoes together. “I’m not going to apologize. You don’t know what he said about Harry.” 

McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers. “You disappointed me, you disappointed your fellow classmates, and you disappointed the sanctity of the Triwizard Tournament-”

“The Triwizard Tournament is hippogriff dung!” Fred shouted. “It’s unnecessarily dangerous and it parades students around like they’re heroes instead of what they actually are- kids !” 

McGonagall looked at him through her pointed glasses. “You did not have this opinion when you and your brother took a dangerous and illicit potion to change your ages.” 

Fred dug his nails into the chair’s arms. He wished George were here with him. “That was before my boyfriend almost burnt to a crisp.” 

“You feel no remorse about what happened the night of the ball?” McGonagall asked him. 

He thought about the assumptions he’d made that night. He thought about Harry sobbing into his arms. He thought about those awful sentiments Harry still thought about his abuser. He thought about how he still didn’t really know what to think. 

“I didn’t say that,” he said quietly as he stared at his lap. If he could have a do-over, he would. Anything to be able to actually dance with Harry as he wore those mesmerizing robes. 

They sat in silence for a moment, but McGonagall sighed again as she realized he wouldn’t elaborate. She crossed her arms and gave him a severe look. 

“Thirty points from Gryffindor, I think will do the trick for the egregious display of assault. Detention with me tomorrow night will also suffice.” 

“No points taken away from Hufflepuff?” Fred grumbled. 

“That will be up to Mister Diggory’s head of house. The same will be said for Mister Potter’s.” 

Fred looked up. “What’d Harry do?” 

“He interrupted the entrance dance. It was supposed to be a display of inter-school companionship.”

Fred resisted the very strong urge to roll his eyes, but he had to dig his fingers into the arms even more. He clenched his jaw and looked up at McGonagall. “Will that be all?” 

She blinked slowly. “Yes, Mister Weasley.” Her tone was cold and stern, so unlike how it usually was when it was directed at him. He stood up from the chair at once and left the room without another word. 

He met Harry in his dorm room a couple hours later right as curfew had hit. He was sequestered in Harry’s bed, hidden from his roommates and reality. Harry’s bed was comfortable and warm and featured his favorite thing in the entire world: Harry himself. But Harry wasn’t currently in here- no, Fred was waiting in the covers like some kind of freak. 

But when Harry flung open the curtain and saw Fred smiling at him, he quickly ushered in and shut the curtains. Fred put up a silencing charm and pressed a kiss to Harry’s warm cheek. His hair was dripping on account and Fred inhaled. He smelled the generic Hogwarts soap of pine. 

“This is a surprise,” Harry said. 

“A nice surprise?” Fred asked sincerely. They hadn’t had a sleepover since Harry had gotten better. He wasn’t sure he was still welcome. But that changed when Harry dragged him down towards the pillows and laid next to him. 

“Very nice,” Harry said. Fred was so happy he didn’t even mind when Harry’s wet hair soaked into his shirt. Harry had gotten into the covers, wearing his usual pajamas of oversized t-shirt, socks, and shorts. He had another bandage covering his wrist. Fred traced the edges with a frown. 

“What happened?” 

Harry’s eyes flashed with something Fred couldn’t identify before a smile overtook his face. “Nothing, I just nicked myself when I was cooking with the elves.” 

Dear Merlin, Harry could be so clumsy. Fred trailed his fingers down from his wrist into his hand and laced Harry’s fingers with his own. 

“I could heal it for you, if you want. You don’t become an older brother in the Weasley family without learning basic healing spells.” 

“No, I’m okay,” Harry said, shaking his head. Harry slipped his arm under the covers. Fred shrugged in acceptance.

“What was with the note during dinner?” Harry asked him. He’d set his glasses on the bedside table, cutting the charm open for only a second, enough where Fred could hear a conversation about what the other fourth year Ravenclaws were talking about- holiday homework, how surprising . Good thing Harry wasn’t a swot- well, he was when it came to history, but that was it. Fred could deal with that much. 

“McGonagall. She wanted to have words about the ball.” Harry stilled.

“You- you didn’t tell anyone about-”

“No!” Fred assured him. “No, I would never. I promise. No, no, this was about me punching Diggory.” 

“Okay, that’s what I thought,” Harry said. “Flitwick also wanted to talk to me after dinner, but he didn’t send a note by owl. McGonagall’s rather all-encompassing, isn’t she?” 

“That’s one word to describe her,” Fred chuckled. “So what’d Flitwick say?” 

Harry sighed. “Forty points for my stunt .” 

Fred sat up abruptly. “Forty points? Seriously? I only got thirty and a detention, and I literally hit someone!” He sucked in a breath and dragged his tongue across his front teeth. “Let me guess: you interrupted inter-school companionship?” 

Harry tilted his head. “Yeah, how’d you-” 

“McGonagall. She really took what happened personally.” 

His boyfriend shrugged. Fred laid back down. “Or she just doesn’t like me. Flitwick also doesn’t like me. But it’s fine- no adult does.” 

Fred swallowed all the complaints about the adults in their lives, as he knew Harry wouldn’t respond to it. But something had to come out, so he blurted, “I love you.” But that was met with Harry not knowing how to respond to it, and a rather guilty feeling from Fred, so he quickly added, “Come on, I’m knackered. Let’s sleep.” 

Harry rested his head against Fred’s chest and entangled their legs together. Fred put his hand in Harry’s hair and twirled his fingers around the curls and shut his eyes. He fell asleep soon after.

*

The first thing Fred thought of when he saw the owls drop issues of the latest Daily Prophet was that he immediately had to frame it. 

Lee whistled as he picked it up. The image of Fred punching Diggory over and over again was doing horrible things to his ego.

“Morgana, I’ve never been attracted to you before but this might change it,” Katie said as she leaned over Lee’s shoulder. Fred couldn’t help but smirk at his feral smile staring back at him. 

“What’d Diggory even say?” Angelina asked. She’d spared one glance at the paper before rolling her eyes and continuing eating her breakfast. 

Fred turned around and saw Diggory at the Hufflepuff table with a nasty purple bruise around his eye looking at the paper with a frown. He turned back to Angelina. “He was being a prick.” 

George sat at the table, his hair windswept and a flush on his cheeks. He took one look at the newspaper before cackling. “Oh, Freddy, this is the best and worst thing you’ve ever done!” 

Fred smiled widely and mock bowed his head. 

“Celebratory reading?” Katie asked. Fred banged his cutlery against his plate and some of the Gryffindor table hushed a little. Lee stood up on the bench and some of the other tables looked over. 

“‘On the eve of Christmas during the Yule Ball hosted by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I had the displeasure of being witness to a barbaric and violent display. Three Hogwarts students interrupted the champions’ dance, a tradition that started in 1011. It began when Harry Potter, infamous twin brother to Monty Potter, the Boy Who Lived, ran off in the middle of the dance. Both Harry and his brother Monty are Triwizard Tournament contestants representing Hogwarts. His date, Fred Weasley, whose father works as a Ministry worker at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department, chased after him only to be stopped by Cedric Diggory, another Triwizard Tournament contestant, representing Hogwarts. Words were exchanged, but this author admits she was unable to glean exactly what was said. In any case, Mister Weasley assaulted the champion before running after his beau-’”

“Mister Jordan, get down at once!” McGonagall shouted, but Lee only gave her a wide grin before continuing. 

“‘The Triwizard Tournament is supposed to be a spectacle of international community and cooperation, but how can Hogwarts, once described as the best magical school in the world, expect to host an event of this caliber when the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, cannot corral his students enough to stop egregious displays such as this one? It begs the question if Hogwarts’ leadership is sturdy and dependable enough for future generations of magical folk. The Triwizard Tournament should be put into question of its reliability to display magical prowess when it spit out five champions instead of the expected three. This includes a champion whose reputation is more than just lackluster, Harry Potter, a fourth year Ravenclaw whose magical power is rumored to be less than-’”

“Okay, Lee,” Fred interrupted. “Is that all it says about me?” 

Lee looked up and grinned sheepishly at the laughter that rang out around the hall. He sat back down and skimmed the paper. “‘Fraid so, mate. Tough luck. But at least you’ll always have this picture!” 

“It’s a very sexy picture,” Katie assured him. Fred banged his shoulder into hers. He turned around to see Diggory stalking out of the hall with Harry following close behind him. He watched as the Great Hall doors opened and closed, and frowned. 

“I’ll meet up with you later, yeah?” Fred said absently as he stood up. He took the copy of the Prophet and stuck it in his trousers pocket and walked out of the Hall. 

He heard Harry and Diggory arguing near a pillar and Fred snuck up to it, using his experience as a prankster to mask his appearance. He’d never managed any masking spells so he just had to use the pillar itself, but he had to hope it was good enough. 

“-I know you’re still with him, Harry! I saw you and him at Christmas snogging in the snow!” Diggory yelled.

“We weren’t snogging!” Harry said. He sounded annoyed, with his voice going flatter and his tone going deeper than normal. “We won the snowball game and he spun me around in the snow. Frankly, I’m worried about your and Cho’s relationship if you think that’s what snogging is.” 

Fred pressed his palm against his mouth to keep from laughing aloud.

“He’s not a good person, Harry. I’m just worried about you. He punched me for no reason.” 

“Cedric, he punched you because you insinuated he was sleeping with me. You were being a prick. I don’t know what you have against Fred, but he’s a really great boyfriend. And he’s a great friend. He listens to me, and he cares about me, and I care about him. Everything I told you a couple months ago, they’re- I was wrong. He wasn’t teasing me or being mean to me. He’s a good person.” 

Good wasn’t exactly the word people have used to describe him. Precocious, mischievous, chaotic, and lazy were all words that have frequently been used to describe him growing up. Never good. But Harry saw that in him. He rested his forehead against the pillar and hoped that Harry knew how much he liked him. 

“Cho repeatedly saw him coming out of your dorm. I just want to make sure that he’s not taking advantage of you,” Diggory said. 

“I can take care of myself, Cedric. No one’s taking advantage of me. You don’t honestly believe I’m that helpless, do you?”

“I know that he’s older than you, and that you’re not exactly a popular person in this school with tons of people in your corner. And it’s not like you can do magic to defend yourself, so-”

“So that’s what this is about. You’re taking pity on the poor little squib,” Harry interrupted, his voice cutting. 

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with squibs!” 

“No, but you think I’m a squib. You think that the cup made a mistake choosing me.” 

“Of course it did!” Diggory shouted. “You shouldn’t have entered in the first place!” 

Harry laughed but it sounded bitter and angry. “I thought- God, it’s embarrassing, but I actually thought you wanted to be my friend. My bad.” 

“I am your friend, Harry,” Diggory insisted, but Fred could hear footsteps trailing away. “For fuck’s sake,” Diggory grumbled. 

Fred stepped out from the pillar and reveled in Diggory’s jump. “Good looking shiner there, pal!” 

He ran away before Diggory could say something, chasing after Harry. He caught up to him just as Harry was climbing the stairs to the second floor. He sighed when he saw Fred. 

“Could we just not right now, please?” Harry asked. His face was set in a frown. “I really don’t want to hear ‘I told you so’ right now.” 

Fred breathed in and pressed his lips together. He held his breath for a moment before nodding and exhaling. “Okay, honey. Do you want company?”

Harry shook his head and Fred took a step backwards, giving his boyfriend a small smile. “Alrighty. I love you.” 

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed together. He leaned over and kissed Fred on the cheek. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Fred watched as Harry ran up the steps. He turned on his heel and walked away.

Chapter Text

Fred groaned as he heard the sharp ring of the alarm charm he had cast before he fell asleep. He moved his body so he was laying on his stomach and pressed his head in the pillow. 

“Fred,” Harry mumbled. He was laying on his side away from Fred. At one point, they were in each other’s arms but that had been hours ago. And now Fred had to get up before Harry’s roommates and the rest of Hogwarts woke up. 

The alarm was still going off, and only Fred could stop it, so Harry nudged him. “Get up, Fred.”

Fred groaned again but it was muffled due to the pillow. He slowly sat up and rubbed his groggy eyes. He loved sleeping with Harry, but he hated this part. 

“I could stay,” Fred offered, just like he did almost every time. Harry ignored him by covering his head with the blanket. Fred sighed, giving up the idea. It was too risky. He didn’t want to risk this. He also didn’t want to deal with all the rumors that would no doubt be a result of it. Their reputations didn’t need to get any worse.

Harry peeked out from under the blanket and gave him a lazy smile. “You’re pretty when you’ve just woken up.” 

Ah, he remembered why he didn’t completely hate this part. Harry was so cute like this. Fred leaned down and kissed Harry on both cheeks and then nipped the tip of his nose. 

“Till next time, love.” 

Harry hummed happily before burying his face in the pillow. Fred stopped the alarm charm and watched his boyfriend serenely before canceling the silence charm altogether and opening up the curtain. He heard snores coming from a couple of Harry’s roommates but he wasn’t sure who. He only knew a couple of their names just from sneaking in and out of here so often, but he didn’t take much of an effort.

He knew that they weren’t kind to Harry. That’s all he needed to know. 

He slipped on the shoes he’d hidden underneath Harry’s bed and grabbed his bag and robe. He made sure that no one was in the bathroom and that everyone’s curtains were closed, and he quietly left the room. 

He couldn’t help but let out a yawn as he fumbled for the map. 

“Fred?” someone asked from behind him. He turned around in a panic and breathed a huge sigh of relief when he saw Katie a few yards away near the stairwell that led up to the older boys’ rooms. 

“Katie, what are you doing here?” he whispered to her. She smirked and caught up to him. 

“Probably the same thing as you,” she whispered back, although less quietly.

“Ravenclaw? Really? Please tell me you’re not back with that patronizing berk.” Katie rolled her eyes. 

“We’re not dating or anything. He’s just incredibly good in bed.” She leaned forward and winked at him conspiratorially. “How’s Harry?”

“No, no, it’s not like that. We were just sleeping.” 

She leaned back and blinked up at him. “You two just sleep?” 

Fred shrugged sheepishly. “I sleep better with him.” 

Katie pursed her lips together. “That’s the cutest thing you’ve ever said. Alright, we should head out before someone finds us.” 

They walked in silence to the Gryffindor common room and Fred used the map to make sure they were safe. 

Once they reached the common room, Fred reached out to grab Katie’s wrist before she walked up the stairs to her dorm. 

“Whaddup?” she asked him in between a yawn. Fred shifted from one foot the other. 

“So you slept with someone tonight?” he asked her. She tilted her head. 

“Fred Weasley, are you slut shaming me?” she asked in an amused voice. He quickly shook his head.

“No! I just- after what happened, you still…” he let the implication trail away. Katie’s amused face shifted. 

He remembered the days after, when Katie acted like nothing had happened. But she smiled less, joked less, did everything less.

“Fred, did Harry do something?” she asked in an impossibly soft voice. He shook his head again.

“No, no, not at all. I’m just- Harry’s just- he doesn’t- ugh, nevermind,” he couldn’t betray Harry’s trust like that. But Katie seemed to understand anyway. She sat on a nearby couch and patted the seat next to her. He sat down and twisted his hands together. 

She didn’t say anything and it took him a while before he could take a deep breath and begin. “He doesn’t even want to kiss. Which, like, okay, we don’t have to. We don’t have to do anything at all. Just being with him is enough. But… Merlin, I’m a horrible person.” 

“After I woke up, feeling more hungover than I’d ever felt in my entire life, I- I felt numb,” Katie said. “For a really long time. I kept thinking, certainly this isn’t happening to me. But it did. And I am so lucky that Angelina found me before something worse could happen, but- but he still drugged me. He still led me up to his room. He still hurt me. And I didn’t want to admit that he had, because it made me feel weak. You know how I hate feeling weak,” she added with a small chuckle. She took his still fidgeting hands in hers. 

“I don’t know how Harry feels, but maybe he was never able to stop feeling weak. It took me a long time before I felt safe enough that I could. But it all depends on the person. Do you know how long it’s been?” 

“Uh, it happened before Hogwarts. That’s all I know.” He didn’t tell her that it had been his teacher. He also didn’t tell her that no one had believed him. It felt like too much of a betrayal. 

“Oh, wow,” Katie said softly. “He was just a little kid. Then that must be all he knows. The confusion and pain that comes from being hurt like that.” 

He remembered when Ron was pre-Hogwarts age. He always had bandages all over his knees and elbows, and always, always dirt on his nose. Ginny always had a smudge of chocolate or jam in the corner of her mouth. The thought of something like that happening to his siblings that young was inconceivable. 

Fred had been confused when Harry instantly connected kissing with sex, but it made sense now. For Harry, that’s all he’s literally ever known. He hadn’t had an awkward, fumbling first kiss that was nothing but innocence and naivety. 

He looked up at Katie and tried to arrange his mouth into a smile. From the way she was looking at him, he knew he failed. “Thanks, Katie. I’m sorry if I brought up stuff you didn’t want to think about.” 

Katie rolled her eyes. “I always think about it. Or, well, I did. It gets better as time passes. Just- I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but do you remember how you reacted when you found out? You and George were so angry- asking me to tell you who it was and planning this great big revenge.” 

Fred scuffed the toe of his sneaker on the stone. “Yeah.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t really helpful. It just made me feel worse. I don’t know if it’s the same with Harry, but maybe don’t do that?”

That night was a bit fuzzy, but he did remember constantly asking Harry who it was. He hadn’t thought- he just wanted to protect the people he loved. He wanted to provide penance for not being able to look after them when it was his responsibility. 

“Duly noted,” Fred sighed. Katie nudged his shoulder with hers. “Could you, uh, keep this between us? He didn’t exactly give me permission to tell people.” 

Katie gave him a look. “Duh. Anyways, I’m exhausted. I’ve had a long night. You’re the one who’s gotten his beauty sleep.”

Fred chuckled and stood up. Katie started to walk away but he grabbed her wrist again and turned her around. He enveloped her in a hug and held onto her tightly. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. They stood like that for a while. 

*

Katie was snoozing in her porridge the next morning. Harry was sitting with them, which was nice, but Fred also suspected that he only came over here because he knew people wouldn’t bother him when he was with him. Ravenclaws could be twats. 

Angelina was doing her winter homework at the table, flipping through different pieces of parchment. George and Lee were arguing about quidditch, Alicia had gone home to be with her parents for the rest of holidays, and Harry was reading. Fred was writing down joke item ideas but was distracted by the owls that flew down from the rafters. 

His blood ran cold when he spotted a bright red envelope. He gripped Harry’s arm, who looked up at him in confusion. 

“Oh, fuck,” Fred said as the owl got closer and closer to him. His friends looked up. George shared a grimace with him. 

The hall had gone quiet as they realized a howler was in their midst. He heard Ginny tell Colin to take a picture to commemorate the event.

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked. He looked around the hall. “Are you okay?”

“Howler,” Fred said in horror as the owl dropped in front of him, its talons getting in his eggs. The owl held out its leg and Fred couldn’t do anything but untie the letter. The owl flew away immediately as if it knew what was in store.

“Better get it over with, Freddie,” George instructed. Fred sighed and flicked open the letter. It shot up and hovered in the air. Fred covered Harry’s ears as it started to scream. 

“FRED GIDEON WEASLEY!” His mum’s voice rang out. Harry sounded a lot sexier when his full name came out of his mouth. “I HAVE NEVER BEEN SO FURIOUS BEFORE! WHAT DID THAT KIND BOY, CEDRIC DIGGORY, EVER DO TO YOU? YOU HAVE SHAMED YOUR FAMILY BY ENGAGING IN THIS KIND OF SENSELESS VIOLENCE! DO YOU LIVE TO UPSET ME? OUT OF ALL THE THINGS YOU HAVE PULLED, THIS IS BY FAR THE WORST! ON THE COVER OF THE DAILY PROPHET, OF ALL THINGS! YOU HAVE EMBARRASSED ME, YOU HAVE EMBARRASSED YOUR FATHER, AND YOU HAVE EMBARRASSED YOUR TEACHERS! MOST OF ALL, YOU HAVE HURT A HOGWARTS CHAMPION! APOLOGIZE TO CEDRIC DIGGORY AT ONCE!”

Fred wanted to cover his face in humiliation but he was still covering Harry’s ears. Instead, he looked at George, who winked at him, and he held his head high with a smile. It fell a little when the letter didn’t burst into flames and instead continued. 

“YOU ARE TO STOP SEEING THAT BOY, FRED WEASLEY! IF THESE ARE THE THINGS HE ENCOURAGES YOU TO DO, I DO NOT WANT YOU AROUND HIM! HE HAD THE LACK OF PARENTS TO RAISE HIM FROM RIGHT AND WRONG, DO NOT LET HIM INFLUENCE YOU! I DO NOT DOUBT HE WAS THE REASON MONTY POTTER WAS ENTERED INTO THE TOURNAMENT. RON AND GINNY, DO YOUR HOMEWORK AND BE GOOD. GEORGE, LOOK AFTER YOUR BROTHER.”

Then the letter burst into flames. Laughter rang out in the hall. Harry unstuck Fred’s hands from his ears by his wrists. He looked at him. 

“You gonna listen to your mother?” Harry asked him. The hall was still too quiet for them to really have a private conversation. “You should. I’m not a good influence.” 

Fred contemplated him. He then grinned. “Honey, that’s my line.” 

Katie let out a huge ‘aw’ and Fred glared at her. He got up from the table and held out a hand to Harry. They walked out of the hall together. 

When they were halfway to the library, Fred stopped and leaned against a wall. Harry shifted his weight on both feet before leaning next to him, their arms touching. Fred rested his head against his. 

“That wasn’t my first howler,” Fred admitted quietly. “In third year, George and I managed to transfigure large batches of buttons into frogs and we hid them all over the herbology greenhouses. We ended up destroying a lot of rather important plants and upsetting the ecosystems.”

Harry had retaken his hand in his and was running his thumb across Fred’s knuckles in a smooth, rhythmic motion. It was nice. 

“We hadn’t meant any harm. We just thought it would be funny. That was my first howler, though. I honestly thought it would be my last, but, well. I guess that’s not the case.” 

“You made the cover of the Daily Prophet,” Harry pointed out. “You literally became news-worthy.” 

“Nah,” Fred said, waving him off. “I was just a pawn in the Ministry’s game to throw Dumbledore out. Only the students care that I punched Diggory.” 

They stood in silence for a few moments. 

“I’m sorry you got caught up in it. I’m sorry Mum said that about you. I’m just… I’m just sorry.” 

He felt glum. He felt like he kept messing things up, even though it wasn’t his intention. It felt like what life had felt back in first year. Foggy and slippery, like everything was getting just out of reach. 

“Come on,” Harry said, tugging his hand. 

“Harry, I don’t really feel like going to the library.” But he didn’t stop as Harry dragged him along. 

“We’re not going to the library.” 

Behold, they weren’t going to the library. But Fred didn’t know where Harry was taking him. He thought for a second they were going to the quidditch pitch, which would’ve been cool if it hadn’t been snowing, but Harry took him to a grouping of overgrown bushes and vines. 

Fred stood there in confusion. Harry was looking at him expectantly, and when he didn’t react, Harry smiled widely. 

“Aha!” he exclaimed. “I know yet another place you don’t know about!”

“Harry,” Fred laughed. “There’s nothing here.” 

Harry winked at him, which was unfairly charming, and he stuck a leaf off of a bush. The bushes parted and the tendrils of the vines twisted until it revealed a short brick arch. There were crosses embedded into the brick on either side of the arch. Harry gestured to the arch. 

“After you,” he said cheekily. Fred stepped through, but not without looking back at his boyfriend. Fred chuckled and continued on until he saw a derelict building in the distance that was all but crumbling down. There was half of a pointed tower in the very center, and half the stained glass windows were shattered. 

“In 1633 there was a werewolf rebellion in Scotland, due to the horrible treatment that they had to face,” Harry explained as he walked through the arch. “It was also exacerbated by a pack leader who wanted revenge on wizards and witches alike for not coming up with any treatments. So he led a very large group of werewolves to start biting everyone- muggles and magic folk alike. The headmaster of Hogwarts at the time freaked out, much like everyone else, and a Christian revolution had formed. This is what came of it.” 

They walked closer to the building, snow dampening their shoes. They reached what had once been the entrance, but it was crumbling down so much that Fred couldn’t make heads or tails of much of any of the details, inside or outside.

“So this is what, a church?” Fred asked. Harry hummed. He grabbed his arm and took him to the opposite side of the building. A wall of shrubbery enclosed them from the rest of the grounds. 

“You see, muggles started practicing Christianity in order to stave off the werewolves and wizards started doing the same thing. They believed that if they converted to Christianity, not only would they be protected from becoming a werewolf, they could turn werewolves into full humans again. It didn’t work. Obviously.” 

Harry opened a small door and stepped through, with Fred following hesitantly. There was snow on the ground where the roof had caved in. The benches had rotted away from age and weather, and the altar at the opposite side of the building had paintings that were so faded that Fred didn’t know if they had once been magical or not. 

“But it lasted long enough that the headmaster commissioned a church. There were plans of creating an entire monastery, but the fad had died out before that could happen. Ultimately, the pack leader was assassinated, werewolf regulations only got stricter, and everyone denied that they had practiced Christianity at all. The only proof we have is this church.” 

“Was this the only church they built?” Fred asked. He avoided the moldy and squishy rug on the ground to reach the altar and instead tiptoed on the floor.

“Nah, but this is the only one left. All the others were destroyed or burned down.” 

“Huh,” Fred said. He looked up at the broken statue made of marble that depicted a woman and a child. Or, he assumed it was a child. The entire thing was falling apart. There were a few crosses on the walls. Most were made of silver. One had precious stones embedded into it. “How’d you find this place?” 

Harry shrugged. He was staring at the statue with a glint of something in his eyes. “The elves told me. They know a lot about this school, since they’ve been entrusted to take care of it for centuries.” 

He turned to Fred. “But this isn’t the surprise.” 

“Oh, no?” Fred asked. “You have more destroyed buildings to show me?” 

Harry walked up to the wall and stood underneath the cross with the precious stones. “When they started burning down the churches, they wanted to punish the priests who had spread Christianity. There have always been factions in the magical world that have tried to spread religious doctrine but they’ve always been unsuccessful. Until the werewolf rebellion. 

“But everyone was so angry that they managed to get what they called ‘hoodwinked’ that they basically threatened the life of every single priest. Why did they get angry, you might ask?” 

Fred couldn’t help but grin. He’d seen this side of Harry before- when Harry shed his insecurities and lectured on the most random history facts. He really did seem sure of himself. He’d make a good professor. 

“Why, Professor Potter?” Fred asked. Harry spared a second to roll his eyes before he continued into lecture mode. 

“Because the factions were always made up of muggleborns and halfbloods. Simple discrimination. I’m afraid that’s true regardless of the time period.” 

“So all the priests were killed?” Fred asked.

“To their belief, yes.” Fred squinted at him. 

“Why do I feel like you’re ramping up to something?” 

“Fred,” Harry said innocently. “Would you do me a favor?” 

“Yes,” Fred said cautiously, which only made Harry grin wider.

“Would you please press the emerald on this cross above me?” 

Fred looked up at the cross. It was a couple inches from Harry’s head. He could very well touch it himself. But Fred obeyed and walked over. Harry grabbed his waist and Fred looked down. Harry winked again as Fred touched the stone. 

The stone they were standing on opened up and they fell a few yards down through a tunnel. Harry was laughing as they landed on the floor, which had been charmed with a cushioning spell. It was pitch black but Fred could feel that wherever they landed was bigger than the tunnel they fell through. He grabbed his wand from his pocket and mumbled, “lumos.”

They were in a small room. There were doors on either side of the room. He looked up from where they fell and didn’t see anything but ceiling. The tunnel must’ve closed on its own. There was a chest by one of the doors that had a large lock on it. 

He looked at Harry, who was still laughing. Harry opened his eyes and grinned sheepishly through his laughter. “I’m sorry. It’s just- your face when we fell!”

“I didn’t have a face!” Fred denied.

“Yes, you did! You looked like this!” Harry widened his eyes real large and opened his mouth in shock. He then laughed some more.

“Oh, was that funny? Was my horror amusing for you?” Fred asked, tackling Harry and tickling his sides. Harry let out a shriek. “I thought we were going to die!”

“We weren’t going to die!” Harry said through his giggles. “This place is designed to save people from death!”

Fred sat back on his ankles and let Harry breathe as his laughter died down. 

“So the priests escaped through tunnels like those?” Fred asked. Harry nodded once he got his bearings. 

“Yeah! They got the idea from muggle churches. They’re called priest holes. It allowed priests to hide from religious persecutions. They’d often lead to the village so they could escape from the castle.” 

Fred glanced at one of the doors. “Don’t tell me…”

“Oh, don’t tell you that not only do these doors lead to the dungeons, the clock tower, the library, but also Hogsmeade? No, you’re right. How silly of me. Well, what do you want to do now? Should we leave and do some homework?” 

“Harry!” Fred exclaimed. He shook his head in wonder. “This isn’t on the map!” 

Harry tilted his head. “What map?” 

Fred dug through his bag and got out the marauder’s map. He held it out to Harry. 

“I forgot I haven’t told you about this yet. The room you showed me on Christmas also isn’t on it.” 

Harry unfolded it and saw blank parchment and raised an eyebrow. Fred scooted next to him and tapped his wand on the paper.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” 

Harry’s eyes widened as the pictures and words formed on the parchment. His eyes trailed up to the title and his face constricted. “Padfoot?” 

Fred rested his chin on Harry’s shoulder. “I didn’t know it was made by your dad until a couple months ago. Padfoot’s your godfather, yeah?” 

Harry trailed his finger across the name with a frown. “Paddy, yeah. I met him last year when he was in dog form. I thought he was just a stray. I must’ve remembered his nickname from when I was a baby. He was…” he stopped and inhaled deeply. “He was my first friend. It wasn’t until he transformed in the shrieking shack that I learned he was actually a man. That he was my godfather.”

Fred watched Harry’s face for insight into what he was feeling. Harry just looked resigned, though. 

“Having a godfather sounds nice,” Fred broached. Harry scoffed. 

“It would be if he ever wrote me back. I think James sunk his opinions about me into his head. Or he came up with his own opinions about me. I don’t know. I- I just don’t know.” 

Fred looped his arm through Harry’s. “It’s his loss.” Harry looked at him with a pitying smile. 

“How many times are you going to have to say that? Will you say it about your mum?”

“It’d be true. If she can’t see how brilliant you are, that’s genuinely her loss. Ditto with Sirius Black. Ditto with James Potter. Ditto with every single person who is too blind to see what’s in front of them.”

“Fred,” Harry said softly. “That’s everyone but you.” 

“And George! And Katie, Lee, Alicia, and Angelina! That’s most of the Gryffindor quidditch team, I’ll have you know.”

“Well, as long as I have most of the Gryffindor quidditch team,” Harry said loftily. He looked at the map. “How do I enhance and move it around?”

“You have to use your wand.” 

Harry looked up. “I have to use my wand?” 

“Whenever I use my fingers it doesn’t work. I think it’s tapped into magical energy or something.” 

“Bugger,” Harry said. “My wand’s back in my dorm.” 

Fred turned to him. “You don’t carry your wand with you?” 

“Nah. Just takes up space, doesn’t it?” 

He handed the map back to Fred, who folded it up and put it back in his bag. He chewed his lip and thought whether or not to continue the conversation. But he had to know. 

“Harry?” he asked. “You can do magic, right?” 

Harry stilled. “What?”

“It’s just- I never see you do it. I’ve never seen your wand before. You leave it in your room. I’ve never heard of a wizard doing that before.” 

Harry unlooped his arm from Fred’s and stood up. His face was flushed. “Oh, because I don’t carry my wand everywhere I go suddenly I’m not a wizard?” 

Fred scrambled up and held his hands out. “I’m not trying to start an argument. I just want to understand.” 

Harry’s hands were by his side in fists. They were as clenched as his jaw. “I wouldn’t be at Hogwarts if I couldn’t do magic, Fred.” 

Fred sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“I know,” Harry said harshly before he looked away at the opposite wall. There were crosses on each of the doors. “I know,” he said again, but softer. His fists unclenched. 

“Do you want to know who started the rumor that I'm a squib?” Harry asked. “My parents. It was their justification for leaving me with my aunt and uncle while they raised Monty. They said that they didn’t want such an obvious squib to be raised in the wizarding world because it wouldn’t be fair. Anyway, they admitted that they were wrong since I showed up at Hogwarts, but by then the tabloids had already latched onto it. So did all of the students and teachers.” 

Harry trailed a finger on one of the crosses. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being a squib. But I hate that people use it as a weapon against me.” 

“My uncle’s a squib,” Fred said. “On my dad’s side. His older brother. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with squibs, either. I just- why don’t you do magic? I could always help you out if you’re having trouble with spells.” 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Harry said, his face turned away from Fred.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” 

Harry held out a hand and Fred took it instantly. 

“Anyway,” Harry said. “Where do you want to go? We could go to the library, Hogsmeade, the clock tower which leads us to the third floor, or the dungeons?” 

“What about the library?” Fred asked. He’d spent more time in the library this year than all six years of his schooling combined. But it was Harry’s favorite place. And he’d go anywhere he wanted. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

Harry led them to another door and pushed it open. There was a wooden staircase. It took a long time for it to reach the third floor of Hogwarts, but when they were at the landing, Fred was confused.

“It’s a dead end.” 

Harry, who looked tired, and frankly a little sad, smiled ever so softly. “Oh, is it?” He knocked on the wall and Fred heard the sound of a latch clicking. Harry pushed the center of the wall and a small section opened. Fred peeked his head out and saw that on the other side of the section was a painting. It opened up to the third floor of the library where all the law treaties were. It was empty, like it always was. Harry was the only person who ever sat here, and it wasn’t for the law books. 

Fred swung his legs into the library and held his hand out for Harry. They closed the section when they were both situated in the room. The portrait was empty. 

“It’s always empty,” Harry said, waving it off when he noticed Fred was looking. “She likes hanging out with Sir Cadogan. I think they’re dating.” 

“Sir Cadogan?” Fred asked. Harry took a seat at a table and took out a book from his bag. Fred sat opposite of him and took out his ideas journal. 

“You don’t know him? Oh, I guess I have another place to show you,” Harry said. But his attention was already far away as he flipped through his book. Fred chuckled softly. He wondered how many places Harry had found that Fred was absolutely ignorant of. He hoped Harry would take him to every single one. 

After one last glance at his boyfriend, Fred opened his journal and they lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Chapter Text

Diggory cornered Fred and Harry as they were hanging out in the library. They were in the muggle section on the armchairs. Fred was sitting how he always did- with his body sideways with his legs hanging over the arm instead of sitting up, like Harry. He was reading a potions book to get ideas on a candy that would change a person’s skin color while Harry read a book called Draped in Gold: The Social Implications of Drapery in the Modern Age. 

Diggory stormed in holding a weird looking silver egg-shaped ornament. He realized where he’d seen it before- Monty had his own as a result of the first task. 

“Harry, I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Diggory said. He looked frazzled, but his hair falling on his forehead in waves due to perspiration was annoyingly attractive. 

Harry looked up from his book, looked Diggory up and down, and went back to his book. Fred couldn’t hold back a smirk. 

Diggory set the egg on the sole table in the alcove and stepped forward.

“I figured out what the egg says. I know you didn’t get one but I don’t want what happened with the dragon to happen again.” 

Harry pointedly turned a page in his book. The bruise around Diggory’s eye had healed. He was back to looking as perfect as he always did. 

“Just- look, I’m sorry about what I said during the holidays. But you really have to listen to me.” 

Harry snapped his book shut. It echoed off the walls. He stood up and walked towards Diggory, stopping just a few inches away. He craned his neck to look up at him. 

“I don’t have to do anything. You’re just concerned that if I die in the task, it’ll be on your conscience for the rest of your life. Well let me help you with that: it won’t be your fault. I don’t need your misplaced guilt.” 

“I’m not worried I’d be guilty for the rest of my life if you die,” Diggory said weakly. “I’m worried about you dying. Please just take the egg and submerge it under water. You have to be under water to hear the song. You can use the prefect’s bath, the password is-” 

“I don’t need your help,” Harry interrupted. 

“You’ll want to listen to it.” 

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” Harry asked, his tone mocking. 

Diggory looked at Fred. His brown eyes bore into his own. “Because it involves him.” 

He walked away with the egg left on the table.

*

“Harry, it’s freezing,” Fred protested. “If we go in there we’ll get hypothermia.” 

“It’s Scotland in winter,” Harry said with a frown. Ever since Diggory had given him the egg, he’s been non-stop frowning. “Of course it’s fucking freezing.” 

Harry shed his coat, which was a very stupid thing to do, even if it had patches and moth holes in it. He also shed the beanie he always wore that Fred gave him. He grabbed the egg from Fred’s gloved hands with ungloved hands and took a step forward. Fred grabbed his arm before he could submerge himself. 

“I’ll do it,” Fred said. He cast another warming charm on himself and two more on Harry. He knew it wasn’t good to overcast it because it could risk overheating, but he’d make an exception. 

They were standing on a rock in front of the waterfalls. It was hard to hear Harry with the sound of the rushing water hitting the rocks. A few hundred yards above was the astronomy tower. Harry kept glancing up at it every now and then. 

“No,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “It’s my task.” 

“Harry, come on!” Fred whined. “We can do it in the shower in my dorm! Or we can break into the prefect’s bathroom, like Diggory suggested. Think about it- warm water.” 

“We’re already here!” Harry said, throwing an arm out towards the waterfalls. “We might as well.” 

Fred grimaced as he watched the rushing water hit the rocks. It’d been spraying them for the past ten minutes they’d been here. He hugged the egg closer to his chest. 

“I’m leaving, Harry. You can follow if you want but I’m taking the egg with me to the shower.” 

Fred turned around and wondered if he should leap to the nearest small rock or if he should risk stepping in the icy cold water. Getting to this giant rock was a lot easier than leaving it, he was realizing. 

As he stepped his leg out, he felt arms around his waist and he was pulled backwards. He lost his footing, and Harry lost his footing, and they both landed in the waterfall. He was hit with an iciness so cold it burned, and it felt like his body was being electrocuted. It was so painful he barely heard the click of the egg as it fell from his hands. 

The egg hissed and a melody and lyrics flew out of it, which was only made stronger with the addition of the water. He used to listen to radio shows with his dad every Sunday. It was something only they did; everyone else was too disinterested. One of the shows was about a mermaid and a wizard falling in love, and the witch who’d played the mermaid had a haunting voice. He had been absolutely mesmerized by the recording. The song that encompassed his ears was much like that. 

Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you're searching ponder this;

We've taken what you'll sorely miss,

An hour long you'll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour, the prospect's black,

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.

The waterfall was rushing over their heads, submerging them even more into the water. He couldn’t hear the song anymore, but he wasn’t sure if it was because it had ended or if it was because the egg was floating away. 

He blindly reached out with his hands and collided into Harry, who let out a grunt. He grabbed whatever he could of Harry- an arm, a leg, an ear, he didn’t know it was so cold- and he hauled them towards the rock they had fallen off. They were finally out of the rushing waterfall and Fred blinked so hard he saw stars behind his eyes. Harry was panting and holding onto the frosted rock like it was the only thing keeping him together. His glasses had been knocked off, but when Fred looked up, he could see them sitting on the rocks by his coat and beanie. 

Fred grunted and climbed onto the rock. He then held out a hand to Harry, who was staring away in the distance, but Harry didn’t take it. Fred cursed under his breath, which he could see in the air, and grabbed Harry’s waist and all but dragged him onto the rock.

He checked his pocket to make sure his wand was still there, he checked his face for injuries, he flexed each toe and finger, and once he decided he was as okay as he could be, he shook Harry’s shoulders. 

“What the fuck were you thinking!” Fred shouted. Harry’s eyes slowly drifted towards his face. He was pale and when Fred looked him over, he saw that he had cut his ear. Blood was trickling down his neck and onto the rock. Instead of feeling bad for him and his anger dissipating, he became even more outraged. 

He stood up and cursed when he almost lost his footing. He took out his wand and cast an anti-slip spell on the bottom of his shoes and for good measure, cast them on Harry’s as well. He picked up Harry’s cap and put it in his pocket, and then picked up the glasses and coat. Harry was still unresponsive, so he had to put his coat on him. His body was freezing cold but Fred was worried about casting warming charms in fear of causing ice burns. He put his glasses on his face gently, casting a sticking charm on them. 

“We have to move, Harry,” Fred said. It rather felt like he was taking care of little Ron whenever they all wanted to ice skate on the frozen pond by their house. Ron had always forgotten his socks and their mum would blame Fred for the blisters on his feet, so it was up to him to make sure Ron never forgot his hat, gloves, and socks. 

Harry clutched his hand tightly but that was the only sign of alertness in him. So Fred picked him up, frowned when he found that even soaking wet Harry was incredibly light, and made the leap towards the smaller rock about a yard away. Fred held onto Harry’s body tightly as he landed, but thankfully he didn’t lose his footing and cause them to be submerged in the water again. 

It took a couple minutes to get them to solid land again, and when they did, Fred all but dropped Harry into the snowy patched grass. They were both shivering and needed medical attention, but Fred dropped to the ground and laid next to Harry. 

“That was the dumbest fucking thing you’ve ever done,” Fred grumbled into a patch of grass that wasn’t frosted with ice. He cast a drying spell on himself, waited to see if it would have any repercussions, and then casted it on Harry when he was fine. 

“M-my bag,” Harry stuttered. Fred looked up and found Harry shivering violently. Harry looked around wildly. “Where’s my b-b-bag?” 

Fred frowned. “We left our bags back in your dorm.” 

Harry scrambled up but quickly fell onto his knees. The snow was making his clothes wet again, which was making his shivering worse. 

“No- no, that was- those were my notes, I have to- I have to-” 

Fred watched warily as Harry crawled towards the lake as he mumbled frantically under his breath. Fred lurched forwards to grab his boyfriend right as he was about to throw himself back into the water. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest and he was trying his best to hold onto Harry, but he was slippery and freezing cold, and Fred didn’t know what the fuck was going on. 

He decided to say screw it and stun Harry, making his boyfriend collapse into the ground unconscious. Did he feel bad about it? Oh, yes, definitely. But it made it easier to pick him up and carry him towards the infirmary. 

When Madam Pomfrey saw them, she frowned fiercely. 

“You decided February was the perfect time for an afternoon dip, Mister Weasley?” she asked in a biting voice. Fred settled Harry onto an empty bed and began untying his shoes. It was difficult with his shaking hands. 

“Not my fault,” he grumbled under his breath. He didn’t want to go to the waterfall in the first place.

“What was that?” Madam Pomfrey asked as she inspected a cupboard of potions from across the room. He looked up from Harry and contemplated repeating, but it was no use. No one ever believed him when he said he hadn’t done something intentionally. He breathed in and shut his eyes, counting to ten in his head. It wouldn’t be of much use if he got angry.

So he swallowed all his complicated frustrated feelings down and gingerly took off Harry’s shoes so he’d be more comfortable in bed. But it wasn’t enough for him to stick around. He turned on his heel and began walking away. 

“Mister Weasley, do you need looking after?” 

“No,” he managed to grit out before leaving the infirmary altogether. It didn’t matter that he was still freezing after casting multiple warming charms on himself, or that parts of his body felt frozen even though he’d cast drying spells, or even that he was shaking. He needed some space. 

The problem with that, however, was that every place he’d previously gone for space had been taken up by Harry. He’d brought him everywhere he’d explored. There was nowhere to go to be unburdened by memories of his boyfriend. 

He adored Harry, he really did. But it was just like George: there was nothing solely for him. 

Why didn't Harry listen to him? Why did he not trust him? Fred knew the labels that stuck onto him: lazy, stupid, useless, selfish. But he didn’t think that Harry would ever believe those things about him. Did Harry really think Fred was so irresponsible and thick headed not to trust him even a little bit when it came to the tasks?

Fred groaned as he wandered aimlessly in the corridors and stuck his hands in his pockets, pausing when he felt Harry’s beanie and glasses. He groaned louder and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling as if the cobwebs and cracks in the ceiling could be blamed for all his troubles. 

“Weasley.” 

Fred rolled his head down and leveled a stare at Diggory. He was with his usual entourage. “What.” 

Diggory’s eyes narrowed at his tone. But before he could manage to say anything, Fred rolled his eyes and dug out Harry’s belongings. He pushed them into Diggory’s chest. 

“Harry’s in the infirmary. I don’t feel like going back and giving these to him.” 

Diggory looked at the items in confusion. “Are you okay, Weasley?” 

“If I didn’t know any better, Diggory, I’d say you sound sincere.” He rolled his eyes and stalked off. “I’m always fucking okay.” 

*

He ended up using the priest hole’s secret entrance to get embarrassingly drunk at Hog’s Head Inn. The barkeep had taken one look at him and told him to get lost before Fred slammed down a pouch of coins.

His head was swimming, and not in a good way. He was sad and angry and couldn’t tell up from down. He really, really liked Harry. He just wasn’t sure Harry felt the same way about him.

“Your coffers are getting low, boy,” the gruff voice of the barkeep said. Fred only rested his head on his arm and sighed. “You can’t stay here if you don’t have coin.” 

He shouldn’t be using this money anyways. He and George had thrown a few parties this year and only received so many coins from it, and here Fred was, squandering it. George was going to kill him. 

The door of the bar opened and a group of people walked in, all chatting and laughing jovially. He looked at the entrance and his heart skipped a beat. 

“Harry!” he exclaimed. He stumbled off the stool and made his way towards his gorgeous boyfriend. He grabbed onto his arm, which felt a lot fuller than it usually did. “I’m sorry I left you in the infirmary, honey. I’m just so sad that you don’t trust me.” 

“Excuse me?” Harry said, but it didn’t sound right. His voice was deeper and posher. It sounded like Monty. Fred looked up- wait, why was he looking up?

“Oh, fuck,” Fred said. He let go of James Potter so quickly that he lost his equilibrium and fell backwards onto the floor. Or, he would’ve, if it not had been for the lovely witch who quickly caught him. “Wicked hair.” 

The pink haired witch winked at him.

“So you found the one eyed witch statue,” the witch said with amusement lacing her words. “Your brother paid me a hefty bribe to get me to tell him where it was.” 

“Broth- oh, are you Tunks?” 

“Tonks, kid Weasley. Which one are you?” 

“George.” 

“Nice try, kid,” Potter said. He grabbed his arm and when Fred tried to dislodge his grip, he only held on tighter. “You’re dating my son.” 

Fred narrowed his eyes up at him but didn’t say anything. He was surprised Potter was even acknowledging Harry at all. Frustration bubbled in his chest. 

“A group of aurors and a prankster walk into a bar,” Fred said. 

He didn’t know how he’d confused Harry with James. Sure, they had some similar features. But that frown on his face was all James- bitter and entitled. Too bloody serious. 

“Calm down, Prongs ,” Fred sang. “I’m sure you know all about sneaking a few ales once in a while.” 

“Alright, you’re coming with me,” Potter said. “I think Professor Dumbledore would like to know where his students wander off to when they should be in bed.” 

“Oh, fuck off!” Fred shouted. “Don’t act like you’re being all responsible. You know what’s responsible? Looking after your fucking son. You know he doesn’t have gloves? Or a hat? Or that his coat is about seventy years old and has holes and rips in it?” 

Potter glared at him, but Fred wasn’t done. 

“Where the fuck were you when he almost was killed by that dragon?” 

Potter’s eyes darkened. He tugged Fred harshly towards the door. “Alright, we’re going to headquarters.” 

“Um, isn’t that a bit dramatic?” Tonks said. “He’s just a kid.” 

“Don’t question my authority, Tonks. I’m your superior.” 

“Wait, Potter,” another auror started. “The kid probably just needs to sleep it off-” 

“That goes for you too, Jugson.” 

With that, Potter all but dragged him towards the apparition point and Fred’s head swirled as he was taken away. When they landed in what Fred assumed was the Ministry, he fell on the ground and upchucked all the alcohol he’d consumed throughout the night. 

He’d barely taken a gulp of air when he was grabbed again and led towards a small cell that held a bench and a toilet. He stumbled towards the ground when Potter let go of his arm with a small push. He heard the cell doors clink close. 

“I’m contacting your mother, Weasley.” 

Well fuck. Fred rested his clammy forehead on the ground and moaned when he felt how cold it was. He was so tired of being cold. He wished he’d held onto the beanie just so he could feel a bit warmer. And because he missed Harry fiercely. He wished that he was in his bed right now, listening to Harry’s soft voice read aloud whatever history book he was on right now. 

“Weasley,” Potter said. Fred ignored him and stayed crumpled on the ground, his face resting on the stone. He heard something clink on the ground next to him and he picked his head up just enough to find a glass of water. He looked backwards and saw Potter holding a blanket. 

Fred quickly looked away as tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. He bit down a sob as Potter sighed. 

“Why doesn’t he trust me?” Fred cried. He felt so pathetically weak. How could he protect someone like Harry, who had everyone so firmly against him, who had to fight dragons and corrupt teachers, who had to deal with scornful students and horrid gossip and a pathetic boyfriend. 

Why wasn’t he enough? 

“Merlin, kid,” Potter said through Fred’s loud sobs. He felt a warm weight on his shoulders and for a second, he was so shocked at the thought of James Potter giving him a hug, but then he realized it was just a blanket. 

“FRED GIDEON WEASLEY!” 

“Here comes the cavalry,” Potter mumbled. 

Fred pressed his face into the stone harder but he was taken away from his solitude by Molly grabbing his arm and pulling him up. The world spun as he became vertical. 

“Mummy, I don’t feel good,” he groaned as he shut his eyes. 

“I should bloody hope so! What were you thinking, running off to a pub in the middle of the bloody night!” 

“With your permission, Molly, I could give him a hangover potion,” Potter said. Hope bubbled up in his chest before it was popped by his mother scoffing. 

“Yeah, right. I think he could do well with feeling bad tomorrow. Isn’t that right, Fred? Honestly, this child, James. I don’t know what to do with him half the time!” 

“How do you even know which one I am?” Fred mumbled. “You don’t know the difference between me and George.” 

“Is that what this is about? You dating that horrid Harry Potter- I bet this was all his idea!” 

“He’s not horrid,” Fred protested weakly. The floor kept switching with the ceiling and it was making it difficult to focus. “He’s wonderful. I’m stupid. And lazy, and awful, and pathetic, and I just wanted to help!” He burst into tears again. 

“You’re just like your father when he’s drunk,” his mum sighed. Fred rested his head against her shoulder and for a short moment, she tangled her fingers in his hair and it felt like he was four years old again. 

Until his mother took hold of his shoulders and pushed him back. She stared at him and he felt bad that she hadn’t even changed out of her pajamas to come rescue him from the cell. 

“I told you to stay away from that boy. He’s nothing but trouble. Getting you drunk at pubs and making you cry.”

Before Fred could protest yet again about how everyone was wrong about his boyfriend, his mum turned to Potter. 

“So how much trouble is my idiot son in?” 

“I think we should let Albus and Minerva handle his punishment.” 

His mum hummed. “Oh, yes, definitely. Come along then, Fred, we’re going to the floo.” 

His stomach flipped. “Mum, I really don’t want to go into the floo right now.” 

“Then you should’ve thought about the consequences.” 

He was led towards the floo and he really wished he could learn how to apparate on his own. His mum never let go of his arm like she knew exactly what he was thinking. She probably did.

“Sorry for the trouble, James. Children,” she huffed. 

“I remember being his age, Molly,” Potter said. “Trust me, we all got into much more trouble back in our days.” 

“Your poor mother,” she laughed. “Well, we’ll be off to Dumbledore’s office. Waking that man up in the middle of the night, I swear-” 

“I actually thought I could come along. I want to check on some things at the school. Tournament and all that,” Potter said. Fred opened his eyes- when had they closed? And he saw Potter looking hesitant. He squinted his eyes. 

“Of course. Lead the way.”

It took three tries before Fred could manage to say ‘Dumbledore’s Office, Hogwarts’ properly. He fell out of the fireplace ungracefully and immediately emptied his stomach once again, only this time on very nice carpet. His mother stepped over him onto her way towards the headmaster. 

Fred groaned as he wiped his mouth and struggled onto his feet. He swayed immediately and almost fell but luckily Dumbledore summoned a chair for him to fall into. 

“Ch’rs,” he slurred. He shut his eyes and tilted his head back, ignoring the disparagements that were most likely leaving his mother’s mouth about him. He briefly wondered how bad the consequences were going to be before dismissing it and dreaming about Harry’s bed. 

But reality crashed down onto him as he realized he left Harry alone in the infirmary. Worse, he gave Diggory Harry’s belongings, so Harry would know that Fred was mad at him, and he was probably mad himself. 

After all, Fred lost the stupid egg. Harry probably never wanted to see him again. 

“Mister Weasley, are you quite all right?” Dumbledore asked him. He rubbed his eyes and found that he was crying again. 

“I believe that he and… his boyfriend are fighting right now,” Potter said after a long pause. 

“I see,” Dumbledore hummed. “Well, young love can be tricky!” What did Dumbledore know about being young? 

“Right,” Potter deadpanned. “With your permission, Albus, Minerva, I could escort Mister Weasley to Gryffindor. I was thinking about checking up on Monty. The second task is soon and I want to know how he’s getting on.” 

“He’s getting on just fine, James,” Dumbledore assured him. “He’s shaping up to be quite the impressive champion, if I do say so myself.” 

“Well, I certainly remember the training days you set up when he was younger,” Potter said with just the slightest quirk of his mouth. 

“Days I remember fondly,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “By all means, do take young Mister Weasley. Just as long as you promise not to tell him any stories about your golden days at Hogwarts.” 

“Believe me, Albus. Those golden days are well behind me.” 

Fred, who was half-incoherent by this point, was guided up from the very comfortable chair and towards the door. 

“Mister Weasley, we’ll discuss your punishment tomorrow morning after breakfast. Your attendance is compulsory,” McGonagall said with a warning voice. He held out a thumbs up and then he was gone from the stifling room. It took him halfway towards the tower to realize his mother hadn’t said goodbye. Oh, well. Just another person he’d disappointed beyond repair. 

Potter was holding onto his arm in a strong grip and Fred was embarrassed that it was probably the only reason he was still on his feet. But he was surprised when Potter stopped just before the stairs that would lead them up towards the Gryffindor tower.

“What? Are you gonna beat me up or somethin’?” Fred asked, his voice weary. He was exhausted and the ceiling and floor kept switching. He just wanted to lay down. 

“You mentioned Harry’s in the infirmary. Is he-” Potter cut himself off. “Is he okay?” 

Indignation filled his chest.

“You’re a fucking arsehole,” Fred spit. He attempted to push Potter away, but he ended up stumbling towards the ground. He laid on his back and stared up at the swirling ceiling. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Potter whispered. Fred lolled his head to the side to look at him. Oh, Merlin. Fred recognized that look. It was a look ever so present on Harry’s face and no amount of affirmations would get rid of his self-deprecating thoughts. Not until Fred made him laugh. 

Maybe it was because Potter was wearing his boyfriend’s face. Maybe it was because he was drunk. Maybe it was because he wanted an adult to give him any sort of positive attention for once. Maybe it had nothing to do with any of this and all of it to do with Harry. But he swallowed the rising vomit that kept threatening to escape him and smirked. 

“A group of aurors and a prankster walk into a bar,” he started. His chest lightened when Potter laughed. Even though he and his son didn’t have the same voice, their laughs were similar. They were both restricted and shy, like they weren’t used to laughing. Like it was against their wills that they would ever be that happy. Like they didn’t know they could be. 

Fucking hell. Potter was fucking miserable. If only Fred hadn’t realized this when he wasn’t drunk. Maybe he could’ve done something. But as usual, he got himself into messes that dirtied everyone around him as well. 

Potter took a deep breath and seemed to draw up all his walls again. He gathered Fred up once more and led him up the stairs towards the Fat Lady portrait. She looked annoyed that they were bothering her at this hour. 

“Grindylows,” Fred said tiredly. Potter let go of his arm. “Monty and Ron’s room is on the second floor but I think they’re asleep already.” 

“Right,” Potter said tightly. Fred walked towards the stairs, expecting Potter to follow him. He could use his help going up the steps. But when he turned around, he saw Potter looking at the door with a hesitant expression. He held back a groan when Potter left the common room. The face he’d been wearing was another familiar expression, one that Harry would wear whenever they were sneaking around in the forest or in Harry’s dorm. 

Much like his son, James Potter wore his feelings on his sleeve and Fred could read them so, so easily. He just wanted to go to bed. With his soft comforter and pillows where he could get at least some sleep before he was punished heavily while wanting to die in just a few hours. He groaned audibly and stumbled down the few steps he’d managed to climb and walked out of the common room. 

He saw only a slip of Potter’s lean frame down the steps towards the left side of the castle. Fred should definitely go get the map, but that would require a lot more grace than he currently had, so he’d have to pray to the Hogwarts founders that no one was having secret rendezvous in the corridors. 

He managed to follow Potter without him sniffing him out, which was surprising considering the man was an actual deer. It helped that most of the candles had been snuffed out so they were mostly traversing in the dark. It also helped that Fred could explore the castle blindfolded. What didn’t help was the fact that he was still drunk. Barely at this point in the night, but he could still feel the remnants. He was a tad sloppy and almost bumped into a full suit of armor.

But the rest of the walk was relatively easy going and he managed to trail Potter all the way to the infirmary. Potter was standing outside the doors staring blankly at them.

“Don’t be such a fucking arsehole,” Potter muttered to himself. He pushed open the doors and slid inside. Fred quickly followed, hoping that Potter’s entrance would mask his own to the wards. Pomfrey’s wards were no joke. 

Fred hid behind a curtain. He peeked his head out a little to find Potter at the foot of Harry’s bed. His expressions seemed to be warring with each other, like he couldn’t decide whether to look at his son with softness or unsureness. 

“Hi, pal,” Potter whispered. His voice was wooden and stiff. “Your boy told me you were here. Hopefully you’re not in here as much as Monty. He mentioned you aren’t in quidditch, so that’s probably not a worry.” 

Potter slid a hand over his face and sighed. “Fucking hell. I wish I could change it. Lily does too, even if she doesn’t talk about it. I just know she does. Merlin, you’re still so small. I think that’s why it’s hard for her to- to look at you. We’d change it if we could, pal. You- you have to know that I-” 

“James Potter?” Potter spun around to find Madam Pomfrey pinning her apron on. “Is everything okay? Why are you here? And so late? Are you here for Harry?” 

“Poppy,” Potter said. He took a few strides away from his son. “Of course not. I brought in a wayward student tonight from the station and I thought I could talk to you about Monty.” 

“Whatever for? Is he okay?” Pomfrey’s hair was disheveled.

“No, he’s fine. I wanted to check in about the next task.” 

Pomfrey leveled him a befuddled and aggravated stare. “Surely that could wait for a more appropriate time, Auror Potter. Not everyone keeps the same hours you do, you understand.” 

“Of course. My apologies. I’ll send a letter and we can get together in the next week or so. Good night, and sorry again for disturbing you.” 

Fred watched as Potter walked out of the room without a spare glance at his son. 

Pomfrey shook her head. “That boy has always been so strange.” 

As soon as she walked back in her office towards her quarters, Fred stepped out from behind the curtain and spared a look at his boyfriend. His heart softened when Harry let out a small yawn in his sleep and moved onto his side. 

Part of him wanted to wake him up and tell him everything that had happened. But he listened to the part of himself that told him to leave. It’d already been too long of a night.