Twin Flame // Fred Weasley

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TW: mentions of sexual assault, mentions of torture, alcohol, self-destructive thoughts. Sensitive and triggering content, reader discretion is advised. 

(Please see my previous chapters for helpful resources if you are affected by topics discussed. I also urge you all to be kind and respectful to one another and to myself. My DMs are always open if anyone is struggling and wants to chat) 

AN: reminder that I'm trying to encapsulate the thoughts and feelings of a man who has recently been sexually assaulted, this chapter does not at all reflect how I think victims should react, I am merely portraying how Fred may be affected by this trauma, and highlighting how sexual assault can skew your beliefs and your sense of self, and how it can truly fuck you up. People deal with things differently, this is just one approach to it. Again, be kind always. Sending love and positivity to each and every one of you x 

Fred's POV 

Tainted. 

I felt tainted. My body, my skin, my lips, my hair, my mind. Everything was tainted by her. As much as I scrubbed at my skin in the shower I couldn't rid myself of her. I scrubbed so hard, until my skin was red, and then the red just reminded me of her, red lips, red nails, red dress, and I was stuck; tainted, dirty, all over again. It was mind-consuming, nauseating. 

Even Iris was tainted. 

What should have been my solace, my comfort, my home, was spoiled. All I could see when I looked at the girl who I loved, the girl who held the stars in her pockets and the sun in her eyes, was Aurelia. Every time my eyes met the frame of the gentle girl who held my heart, all I could see was the way she had thrashed around on the floor, the way she had screamed and begged to die, all I could see was her unconscious body fall limp against the cold ground, and I was reminded of how I merely sat there and watched, unable to stop it. She had once reminded me of everything good in the world, but now she served as a reminder of how easily that could be taken away, how vulnerable love truly made you. 

Everything was her. Without her, I ceased to live. I couldn't live with the fact it was my fault she had been hurt. My fault. I promised her I'd never allow her to get hurt, and yet I sat mere inches away as the light was tortured out of her eyes. When her light went out, mine, too, dimmed to nothing; there was no bringing it back. 

All I did was cause her pain. She'd be so much better without me, but I was too selfish to let her go. Keeping her at arms length would have to do, she'd still be mine, she'd still be in my life, but she'd be far enough away to be safe from my destruction. 

When she visited me that day, and I tasted her tears on my tongue I kicked myself. All I was doing was making her hurt more, all I was doing was fucking her life up, and yet, I couldn't let her go. I couldn't. She's all I had. 

Selfish. Selfish. Selfish. 

I'd always known she was twice the person I was, but my inability to let her go, my inability to stay away from her to keep her safe, truly epitomised how inadequate I was in comparison to her. 

The love I had for her wrapped around her entirely, like ivy on an old home, intertwining with her ribs, embellishing her arms, entangling in her fingers and looping round her legs, little did I know ivy in large quantities found cracks in foundations and made bricks crumble. I thought my ivy was beautiful, acting as a barrier, protecting her. Oh, how I was wrong. My ivy tightened around her limbs, infesting her lungs and her heart, tightening around her throat until she could hardly breathe; it was suffocating her. She was crumbling because of me. The only way to stop it was to cut it at the root. It would save her, but I'd die in the process; only one could truly thrive. 

I hated myself. I hated myself for loving her so much. I hated myself for needing her. I hated myself for fucking her when I should have been peppering her with gentle kisses, when I should have been praising her. I hated myself for being so selfish, for seeing only me when she was the one who needed fixing. She needed fixing because of me, I reminded myself, I couldn't fix her if I was the problem. 

When her lips met mine I couldn't help but let my primal desires take over. I was angry. I needed to lose myself in her. Needed her body to replace Aurelia's. My mind was a prison of bad decisions and destructive tendencies. Nothing mattered in that moment. Not me. Not her. Just sex. I hadn't thought that I might hurt her. I hadn't thought anything at all. She had wanted it. She kissed me. She didn't refuse. She didn't stop me. I should have stopped myself. 

Seeing the way she collapsed on herself as her body gave into the pain, the pain I had caused, I knew something had to change. If I couldn't kill the ivy at the root I'd have to do something else to destroy it, something less sudden, something that would numb the pain and slowly wilt me until there was nothing left. 

So I turned to alcohol. 

I left her on my bed, naked, hurting, and I disappeared to the nearest muggle shop, buying a bottle of vodka and drinking it until I had the nerve to go to a bar. 

I welcomed the burn. God knows, I deserved it. I savoured the sharp sting like knives sliding down my throat, welcoming the haziness that came with it. I drank alone until the vodka turned to water and the burn was the only thing keeping me warm from the February air. I stumbled to a bar, and continued drinking there, until I couldn't see, or walk, or form coherent thoughts. It was better that way, if I couldn't think of her, I couldn't feel. I drank until the bar tender refused to serve me any more alcohol, and then I apparated home, desperate to feel the numb void of a drunken slumber. 

Of course she was there when I returned. 

My angel. 

She was dancing with the devil and she didn't even know. She couldn't see the way my sins seeped into her, turning her dress to ashes, ruining her. I could see it. I was a piece of shit for allowing it. She looked so pretty in ruins. Evidence she'd been touched by me. 

I was black and she was white, I couldn't help but admire the beautiful shade of grey I was making out of her. I hated myself for it. 

A/N: sorry guys this is a short filler, just a glimpse of how Fred is doing. I feel so bad for him writing this made me so sad :( poor baby. 

Sorry I've been away and am only providing a really short chapter, but it's all about to go down so I promise more is coming soon and I'm going to be back to regular updates and they'll be longer I promise. We're kind of getting closer to the end now which slightly breaks my heart, I couldn't even guess how many more chapters i'll write like it could be 5 it could be 50, because I haven't even really decided where I'm going to end it lol like I know exactly what's going to happen but I haven't decided how far i'll go beyond that - but time will tell.  I have a hundred and one ideas for other things as well like I want to do more one shots and I have loads of drafts for that, I've started writing a Tom Riddle fan fic, I am considering writing a prequel of Twin Flame to like show the friendship between the twins and Iris at Hogwarts - who knows where 2021 will take me.

Also, I changed the cover (it was actually an accident but oh well) what do you guys think? I literally hated the last one lmao. I made a few and I was just trying to test them out but it actually changed it soooo, let me know if you like it or not.