Untouchable: a Fred Weasley fanfiction

The Apple

It's the day before the big Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff quidditch match, and to say everyone is buzzing with energy would be an understatement.

But even for being excited, Fred's oddly nervous behavior catches my eye when we're studying at one of the back desks in the library.

I watch him bouncing his knee out of the corner of my eye, his gaze fixated at his open history textbook but his head clearly somewhere else.

I nudge his leg under the table. "Hey. You okay?"

He perks up, breaking out of his jitters. "Huh? Oh. Yeah. Fine."

"No, you're not." I set down my quill, watching him sigh. "Come on. You're miles away."

He runs a hand over his face, leaning back in his chair in defeat. "It's the match."

"Tomorrow?" I ask. "What are you so nervous about? You've played this for years, Freddie, and do nauseatingly well every time–"

"A recruiter."

My brow furrows. "What?"

He sits up, looking shaken. "A recruiter is watching the match tomorrow. A professional Quidditch recruiter, looking for new potential players for their league in the upcoming season. They scour all the wizarding schools with the best track records of Quidditch."

"Are you serious?" I breathe, eyes widening. "What recruiter? From what league?"

He gulps. "The Chudley Cannons."

The shove that he receives after that is so fast that he lets out a surprised laugh and we both have to quickly quiet down in the back of the library. I'm gaping, because what the fuck?

"Fred!" I whisper scream. "The Chudley Cannons?! The Chudley Cannons?! Merlin, even I know who those blokes are! You're kidding!"

"No." He shakes his head, smiling now– "I just heard from Angelina this morning."

"That's bloody brilliant!" I laugh, trying to remain calm. "So, they're watching you play? Do they talk to you after?"

"I don't know," he shrugs, looking nervous again. "I think so? I just– I'm so scared of messing it up, Jo, I can't even think straight..."

"Okay, rewind," I interrupt him. "That was probably the stupidest thing you've ever said. And you've said many stupid things."

He cracks another smile.

"You're scared of messing it up?" I go on. "Fred, you're one of the best players I've ever seen on that field. You give it your all. If you give it your all tomorrow, you'll catch that recruiter's eye. And if you don't, then who cares? You've still got a bright future ahead of you, you know."

"I know, I know, I'll end up somewhere, but..." he sighs, "it's as if someone just held out this big, juicy apple, and I didn't know it was gonna be an option, and now I really, really want that apple."

He pauses, thinking.

"And I know George and I want to start our shop," he goes on, "but what about before that? We don't have the money yet, so we'll have to get jobs somewhere else for a bit anyway, and George is looking into broom crafting and engineering because he's always had this interest in charms and design, and now there's this bloody amazing apple showing itself to me..."

"I know," I say, letting him take a breath with a hand on his arm. "And you're going to work your hardest for a chance at it. But even if you don't get it, there are so many more apples out there."