Photograph | fred weasley x reader

The Weasley Quidditch Team

Your first week at The Burrow was possibly the best week of your life so far. Ginny had claimed you as her own sister, and each night she'd ask you hundreds of questions about school and Quidditch and boys and pranks. She'd prop herself up on her elbow, her chin resting in her hands, while she listened wide-eyed in awe as you recounted the tales of your mischief with the twins.

Every morning when the bright summer sun broke the rickety blinds, you awoke to the fresh smell of pancakes or waffles or crumpets, your mouth falling open as you walked into the kitchen and saw spoons and whisks and eggs flying magically in the air. After two years of magic, you still hadn't gotten quite used to just how brilliant this world was.

You and Ginny were always the first to wake up, so you'd get five minutes of peace and quiet before three hungry boys- and Percy- would throw themselves down in the chairs next to you, and devour all the food insight.

"Mornin'" Fred would say, his bright copper hair flicking up awkwardly from sleep. He grinned at you brightly, always taking the extra time to lean over the flick your ear or your nose or a loose strand of hair.

"Fred!" You whined, swatting him on the back of his head. Ginny would giggle, George would guffaw loudly and start throwing bits of torn off breakfast at you both, Percy would sigh and roll his eyes and Ron- well, Ron was too busy stuffing his face to notice what was going on. As each day went on, the Burrow felt more and more like home.

"Mrs Weasley, please let me help you clean up," you said one evening, after a scrumptious dinner of sausages, chips and peas. You always offered to help, but you felt rather determined to let their mum allow you to actually clean up this time, considering a pea-fight had broken out between you and the twins and table was now littered with the little green balls. George had a pea in his ear.

"Nonsense dear, and for the millionth time, sweetheart, call me Molly," Mrs Weasley replied as she got up and began wiping her hands on her apron. You'd noticed that she had a different apron for every single day of the week.

Fred and George jumped up from the table excitedly, "right, Y/N, you and Gin meet us outside in ten minutes, we'll get the brooms ready and Ron'll set the pitch up," Fred interjected, shaking a pea out of his hair.

"And prepare to lose!" George added as he swiftly followed his brother. They disappeared up the stairs and you could hear lots of rummaging from the floor above. Ginny squealed loudly, "oh, Y/N, just wait until you see how good I am at Quidditch! I'm going to change, I'll be right back!"

You and Mr Weasley chuckled as the youngest flew to her bedroom like a tiny orange bird, and you turned back to the table. You pushed out your chair and begun scooping up the peas. Mrs Weasley shuffled over and gently tapped your hand,

"What did I say, N/N, don't worry about that! Arthur!" Molly chastised, and turned to her husband. He nodded and with a swish of his wand, the peas collectively jumped into your awaiting hands.

"Oh!" You gasped, and a wide grin broke out on your face. "I forgot you can do that."

"Oh yes, it's rather handy. It must be quite strange for you, coming to a house like this after living with your muggle father," Mrs Weasley smiled brightly at you, as she waved her wand too and the plates danced themselves into the bubbly sink. You nodded,

"Well, he's not actually a muggle," you replied almost absently, your focus on the plates that were now scrubbing themselves clean. You realised what you'd said, and the air around the table seemed to shift ever so slightly. Mrs. Weasley paused mid-wand wave, her gaze sharpening as she exchanged a glance with Mr. Weasley. Your cheeks flushed red, the sudden silence making your heartbeat feel unnervingly loud.