I Fancy You (Fred Weasley x Female Reader)

going home

You didn't know what you were expecting, but it was anything but this.

You were frozen in place, mouth ajar, not knowing what to say. I'm breaking up with you, y/n. The words didn't make sense at first. Slowly, the meaning clicked one word at a time. I'm breaking up with you, y/n. How? How could Thomas do this to you? The two of you had been together for nearly two years; your anniversary was in a week. You couldn't remember a time you were without him, your mind simply rejected it.

You looked back up at Thomas. The guilt was plain in his face, and suddenly everything made sense. Why Thomas had looked guilty before, the signs of nervousness. He had known he was going to break up with you since he got to the restaurant, that was why he had acted all wrong. He knew he was going to hurt you, and yet he still did it.

Thomas saw the look on your face and placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Look, y/n, I'm sorry—"

"No," you say. "No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for thinking it would work out for so long." Not knowing what else to say or do, you turn and half-walk, half-jog towards the door, leaving Thomas looking shocked, his hand limp by his side. Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over.

Not looking where you're going, you race outside. Straight into someone.

The smell hits you instantly. It's cinnamon mixed with fire embers. You know you should know who it was, but your brain wasn't quite working correctly at the moment. You take a step back and the stranger/possible friend takes your shoulders in warm, nimble hands. Oh! It was Fred Weasley, one of the twins. The two of you were in the same friend group, but you had never been very close with Fred.

He smirks, looking down at your outfit. "Well, this is a nice surprise. Why are you so dressed up?"

"Why does everybody keep asking me that?" You were going for an exasperated tone and failed. Miserably.

"Hey, I'm sorry," his voice was gentle now, much like his hands. "Are you ok?"

"Of course I'm not ok," you say. You knew it wasn't fair to take your anger out on Fred, as it wasn't his fault. "How could I be ok after my boyfriend of nearly two years just broke up with me. A week before our anniversary!"

Fred's eyebrows pull together. His arms slide from your shoulders to your elbows, raising goosebumps.

"Hey, it's ok," he says. Suddenly his arms are around you, enveloping your body in his warmth. You wrap your arms around his chest, grateful for the comfort.

After a moment, he pulls away and looks into your eyes, searching your face. You took a second to study him, as you'd never seen him from this close before. His eyes were a dark brown, the kind of eyes that had so much depth that they mesmerized you, the kind you could watch for hours and still be amazed by every fleck of gold and stroke of lighter hues. But never mind his eyes. You had more important things to deal with.

"Let's get you home, yeah?" he says and you nod. You're suddenly aware that salty tears had fallen down your cheeks, most likely streaking the makeup you'd put on earlier.

Taking your wrist softly, Fred guides you toward a nearby store, where there would likely be a fireplace to go to the Alcott manor.

"It's a shame we've not learned to apparate yet. Everything would be so much easier," Fred says, trying to make conversation. You don't answer, not trusting yourself to speak. Thomas' words kept being replayed inside your head: Because I'm breaking up with you, y/n. The more you heard them, the more real they became. I'm breaking up with you, y/n. You would never again write to him just because you had nothing to do, never laugh together over stupid inside jokes. You would never again feel his arms around you, never feel his lips on yours or his breath on the back of your neck. It was over.

You had made it inside a store— from the looks of it, it was Flourish and Blotts. Fred asked the store employee if the two of you could use the Floo Network, and pretty soon you could feel the all too familiar twisting and turning in the pit of your stomach. You open your eyes, and see your parents staring at the two of you in astonishment.

Oh dear. Why were they home so soon? They weren't due to be home until tomorrow morning a the earliest. And how must this look to them? Before they left, you had informed them that you were meeting up with Thomas for a butterbeer. And now, coming home with someone who was clearly not Thomas. . . .

It was Fred who recovered first. "Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Alcott. I was just. . . seeing Y/n off. You know, erm... making sure she got home alright. So if you don't mind, I will be going—"

     "Of course not, dear. Y/n, your father and I will be in the kitchen when you're ready to talk about this... situation." your mother looked confused and suspicious, but she put her hand on your father's shoulder. Together, they strode off towards the kitchen. 

     "I am so sorry," Fred says, turning back to you. "I know how this must look to your parents, and it's my fault completely—"

     "It's not your fault at all," you say. "You were just trying to be nice. I'll talk to them, explain what happened. I'm sorry, for dragging you in to this."

     "You were always too good for him," he says suddenly.

     "What?" you were completely caught off-guard.

     "Thomas. You were too good for him. He didn't deserve you."

     "I—"

     "Look, write to me or just come to the Burrough if you need me. You don't have to go through this alone. You have me, and George, and Holly, and Ginny, and— well, you know all of your friends. We're all on your side, ok?" Fred wraps you in another hug, careful to touch only your shoulder blades. 

     You nod. "Thank you," you say. "For not leaving me."

     "Of course." He looks surprised. After a moment of awkward silence, he excuses himself and uses the fireplace to go back to the burrough. You take a minute to try and compose yourself, but new tears replace the old ones. What's the point, you think. You make your way towards the kitchen, preparing to explain the situation to them. 

     Since Thomas had ended things between you, you had felt a sense of empniess in the bottom of your heart. Like something had been taken away from you. Something essential. Oh well, you think. It's just one more thing I'll have to handle without him.

A/n: What do you think? I'm trying to not make y/n very dramatic, but trying to make you feel the hurt she's in as well. This is taking place a week before Y/n's sixth year of Hogwarts, so we're currently in The Goblet of Fire. Please tell me how you like it, and don't forget to vote!