Orange Trees | Fred Weasley

Chapter Nine

August 30th, 1994

Jericho woke up to soft light filtering through his window, a gentle glow cast across his room. He stretched, feeling the remnants of sleep clinging to his limbs, but there was a warmth in his chest that lingered from the previous night. As he lay in bed, his mind replayed the hours he spent talking with Fred, each moment vivid, and it made his stomach flutter with fairies.

Visions of Fred's red hair floating outside his window danced in his mind like a supercut. The memory of Fred's easy smile and the way his eyes sparkled with genuine interest and amusement stayed with Jericho, making him smile unconsciously. He could still hear the echoes of their laughter, hushed but persistent, as they tried to keep quiet once the rest of Jericho's family had gone to bed.

Jericho remembered how Fred insisted on staying, despite Jericho's repeated reminder that he could leave whenever he wanted. Fred's response was always the same, a lighthearted reassurance that he didn't mind sitting uncomfortably on a broom just to keep Jericho company. Fred's presence had been a balm, soothing the loneliness and the tension that had settled in Jericho's heart since his punishment began.

Jericho turned to his side, gazing at the spot by the window where Fred had perched on his broom. He could almost see Fred there, his elbows resting on the windowsill, his posture relaxed yet attentive. The way Fred listened, genuinely interested in everything Jericho had to say, made Jericho feel valued and understood in a way he rarely experienced.

He turned on his back, his eyes tracing the patterns of light on the ceiling as his mind continued to wander back to the previous night. He had never been one for love stories, despite having read countless romance books to the fairies. In fact, he often found them predictable and overly saccharine. Yet, as Fred hovered outside his bedroom window on his broom, the entire scene felt like something ripped straight from the pages of a fairy tale.

In those quiet, stolen hours, Jericho had felt like a damsel in distress, trapped within the confines of his room, a modern-day castle. The punishment his mother had imposed felt like the decree of an evil queen, isolating him from the world and his allies. But there, in the breath of twilight, came his knight in shining armor—Fred Weasley. With his messy red hair glowing softly in the dim light and his broad smile that could charm even the most sullen hearts, Fred had appeared as a glimmer of hope.

Fred's presence was warm and reassuring, a stark contrast to the cool, disciplined atmosphere that Jericho's house maintained. As they talked, Fred leaning casually on his broom, Jericho couldn't help but feel as though he was living out one of those grand romantic tales he read to the fairies. The way Fred listened, truly listened, made Jericho feel special and important. His laughter was like music, blending seamlessly with the nighttime symphony of crickets and distant owls.

Jericho recalled the way Fred had promised to return, making sure to clarify that it would be the next day. The sincerity in his eyes made the words feel like an unbreakable vow. It was in those moments that Jericho felt like the protagonist of his own story, a story where the hero always comes back, where the bond formed transcends mere friendship and blossoms into something more profound.

But as romantic and fairy tale-like as the night had felt, reality soon crept back into Jericho's thoughts. He cringed at himself in bed, feeling almost foolish for letting these emotions and thoughts consume him. Fred had simply been nice, showing the same kindness and camaraderie Jericho was sure he displayed with all his friends. Jericho knew he was reading too much into it, letting the hopeful fantasies cloud his better judgment.

The intricate dance between hope and reality made his heart ache. He wondered if he should guard himself better, not allowing the tender moments with Fred to spin into grand narratives of what could be. He had a habit of letting his fantasies overtake reality. The complexity of his feelings for Fred—admiration, friendship, a budding crush—mixed with the fear of misinterpretation and rejection, created a tangled mess in his mind.