I Fancy You (Fred Weasley x Female Reader)

unexpected news

You smoothed down your dress. Yes, this was good for a date. The hem of the lavender fabric rested mid-thigh, and the neckline rested just below your collarbone. Classy, and not too fancy.

Grabbing your white wristlet, you turn off your lights and head towards the fireplace. There was a jar of Floo Powder on the mantle. You scoop up a handful of the thin white powder and say the name of your destination.

"Diagon Alley."

You have always had a hard time with the Floo Network; the bright green flames never ceased to surprise you and the twisting and turning always made you dizzy.

Light flooded your eyes upon opening them. You were on your hands and knees in the middle of Olivander's. Huh. I guess it was the first place that came to my mind, you think.

"Why hello there," a voice spoke from behind you. It was a woman, not one you had seen before. From the looks of it, she worked here.

"Hi," you say. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to end up here."

"It's fine dear, what's your name?"

"Y/n Alcott, ma'am. I must go, but it was nice meeting you!"

"Nice meeting you too," she smiles, and her whole face lights up. You stand up, brush the dust off of your knees and palms, and stride toward the door. A bell rings when you open it.

When you make it to the small restaurant, you look around. He's not here. Yet, at least. You sit at a small table order 2 butterbeers. They're not as good as the butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks, but this restaurant is more private, more intimate. You can talk to each other without being overheard.

A bell rings at the door. Your head snaps up, and you see him. You see Thomas. He's wearing a jumper and a pair of denim. Now you feel silly for wearing the dress.

"Hi, y/n," he says when he approaches the table. "You look. . . beautiful."

Thomas' face is full of surprise. You wonder why that is. You are usually very good at reading people, and his face was always easily read. You could see surprise and. . . was that guilt?

He sits across from you and the waitress comes with your butterbeers. You study his face, confused. He glances at you and smiles. You decide to let it go. Why would he be guilty, anyways?

"So," he starts, his face curious now. "Why the dress?"

You could feel your cheeks burning. You were thinking--hoping-- that this was a date. And why wouldn't it be? It still could be, despite the fact that Thomas had appeared to put no effort into his physical appearance. But what did you care? He was just as attractive, with his disheveled curly brown hair and easy smile. He was beautiful, no matter how he dressed.

"I... er," you start, not knowing what to say. "I felt like looking looking nice." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth.

"You always look nice." He says, then looks down, as if he had said the wrong thing. His leg had started to bounce up and down under the table, jumping with nervous energy. His hands were clasped together with such force that the knuckles were white. Ok, you think. Something is definitely wrong.

"You're nervous," you note. "You've been acting weird. What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he shakes his head. "It's just. . .nothing."

"You were going to say something, but you stopped yourself."

"Look, I'm fine," he musters up a smile. "How could I be unhappy when I'm with you?"

You narrow my eyes, but let it go-- for now.

For the next half hour, the two of you make small talk. Thomas' voice is normal, but you can still tell that there is something wrong. When he looks at you--no matter how he tries to hide it--there is guilt in his eyes. You don't say anything, but you plan to. You hate not knowing things.

You were on my second glass of butterbeer; Thomas had just finished his third. At least one thing was the same about every teenage boy— they could put down food like no one's business.

"So, have you bought your supplies for sixth year yet?" He asks you.

"Last Friday, actually. I had to get a new pair of robes and a new broom. Mine was starting to get a bit old. Have you?" You had played quidditch since second year, when the Weasley twins and Thomas had been convincing you the entire duration of your first year at Hogwarts.

"I still need to to. I've been so busy lately, it's sort of slipped my mind. I reckon I need a new broom as well, though they've been quite expensive lately..." his voice trailed off.

Suddenly a group of men entered the restaurant, and the silence was no longer. They staggered around, clearly drunk. Their loud voices slurred, and they all took a seat in the booth right behind us. You took it as a cue to wrap up the conversation and make your way home. Unless. . .

"Do you mind if I stay at your place tonight? My parents are at some fancy ball tonight, so the house is pretty lonely. We can go to your place or mine, whatever you'd like." You felt like, before today, you two hadn't seen each other in ages; and if you were together all night, maybe you would be able to figure out what was on his mind that was making him so nervous.

Thomas bit his full bottom lip, deep in thought. He didn't say anything for so long that you thought that maybe he hadn't heard you. But Thomas had clearly heard you. He just. . .wasn't responding.

Why?

You had asked yourself that more in the last half hour than you had in the (almost) two years that you two had been dating. Thomas was always an open book, never keeping anything from you. You knew everything about him, and he knew everything about you. You couldn't imagine your life without him.

After what felt like ages, he spoke. "Y/n, we need to talk."

Your head jerked up. "Talk? We've been talking, for a while now."

"You know what I mean."

"No, I don't. I don't know what your talking about, I don't know what you're thinking about, I don't know what's wrong with you. Ever since you've come in here, you've been acting all weird. Just tell me Thomas, tell me what's wrong and we can figure it out together. We always do."

"I don't think we can do that this time." His voice was quiet, and his eyes had slipped closed. Apparently a joke had been made behind us; there was a simultaneous roar of laughter.

"And why is that?"

"Because I'm breaking up with you, y/n."

Oh.

A/n ~ So, what do you think? I hope this was an ok first chapter, as this is my first book. Also, if you haven't been able to tell, your last name is Alcott. Just be aware of that when your reading! Tell me what you think in the comments, and don't forget to vote! Thank you for reading!