𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 | f. w

18

It was a serendipitous event that Fred Weasley found himself inside the very same bar where the person he once considered one of the most important in his life was also spending her evening. The fact that he'd just come back from a year in Romania with his brother Charlie and his fiance Amelia was yet another reason for his decision to spend the night getting sloshed with his mates. Knowing that there was a minuscule chance of her being there tonight had no bearing whatsoever on that decision. None.

Only, that wasn't the complete truth.

A million other choices, and he could have been anywhere else. But here he was, his fingers wrapped around a pint glass, his laughter blending into the noise of the crowd, while across the room was the person he once thought he might never see again. And maybe, if he were being honest with himself—if he ever let himself think of her without all the guards he'd built up—he'd admit that she'd never really left his mind.

Fred had only recently returned to London from Romania, where he'd spent the last year trying to fill the gaping hole that losing George had left in his life. Days spent with dragons, getting burned and bruised and learning to handle creatures as wild as the storm inside of him, had been a distraction—a good one, a hard one—but the ache remained. He'd been there with his brother Charlie, who was the best support he could ask for, and alongside him had been Amelia, his now fiancée, whose steady presence had offered him moments of peace. Still, even Amelia, with her kind heart and quiet understanding, couldn't erase the part of him that had been so deeply intertwined with Mattie.

It had been nearly three years since he'd seen her. Three years since the end of the war, when everything changed, including them. It was a messy, complicated thing between him and Mattie, something they'd never quite sorted out. After George's death, he hadn't known how to let himself feel anything, so he'd buried it all, choosing distance and isolation to protect himself. And so, he'd left. First to Romania, and then farther still—anywhere he could go where he wouldn't be haunted by the memories of everything he'd lost.

But tonight, on his first night back in London, he'd been out with some old friends, laughing over shared memories and catching up on the lives they'd pieced together since the war. Somewhere between the noise and the drinks, he'd found himself wondering—hoping, really—about her.

And as it turned out, she was here.

It was pure coincidence that brought them both to the same pub. At least, that was what he'd told himself. He'd picked this place not because he thought she'd be here, not because he'd heard she might be nearby, but simply because it was familiar. A chance meeting, nothing more.

Only, that wasn't the entire truth. He hadn't known she'd be here, exactly. But he'd let himself hope. And that hope had become a weight in his chest as he looked across the room and saw her—so familiar, yet somehow different, with her hair a little shorter and her eyes a little older. She was laughing with her friends, her face lit up with a joy that stirred something deep within him.

Coming back... coming back had made everything resurface. It was as if he'd taken the past, stored it in a box, and now, simply by being here, he'd pried it open again.

And now here she was, just across the room, as if no time had passed at all.

For a second, he just stared, taking her in. Her expression was a little more thoughtful, but the light in her eyes as she laughed was unmistakably the same. He felt his heart lurch as she tilted her head back to laugh at something her friend said, that familiar warmth spreading through her features. Just seeing her stirred something deep inside him, a complicated mix of nostalgia, regret, and longing that he'd thought he'd left behind.

But it was what he saw next that stopped him cold.

As he watched, a man leaned closer to her—a man he vaguely recognized as someone who worked nearby. The man's hand rested on her arm, his expression intent as he leaned in... and pressed a kiss to her lips.