Photograph | fred weasley x fem reader

Chapter Nineteen: The Smelly Old Shoebrush

"Good morning," a low voice broke through the dense haze of your dreamless sleep. You groaned as you stirred, wincing as the sounds of the world spilled through your consciousness.

Light crept in, seeping through your tightly-shut eyelids, and you let out a tired yawn. You pressed your fingers against your eyes and rubbed them, hoping to block out the day.

"Come on, sleepy head," the voice said again, this time closer. Someone shook your shoulder gently and you swatted it away, hissing like a cat.

"Just five more minutes," you mumbled, your eyes still firmly shut. You blindly fumbled around for the blanket that was on top of you and pulled it tighter, bunching it under your chin. The person laughed in response and shook your shoulder again.

"No," you moaned with a huff, rolling over. You turned to curl up on your side, but before you could get really comfortable, you found yourself mid-air, no longer on the bed. It took you a moment to realise that you had rolled right out of it. You plummeted to the floor and landed with a soft thud, face-first.

Two very loud boys roared with laughter as your forehead smacked against the carpet. In shock from both the crash-landing and the raucous noise, your eyes shot open and you scrambled around on the floor, trying to sit up. However, you were still rather tangled up in the blanket. You flopped and struggled like a fish caught in a net, only earning louder and heartier laughs in response.

The room swam into focus and Fred and George were as red as their hair, doubling over and clutching their stomachs as they watched you. Still lying helplessly on the floor, your arms stuck down by your sides and now tightly cocooned in the blanket, you glared at the twins.

"I hate you both," you hissed, your shoulders sinking in defeat as you laid limp. Fred, who was sitting on the sofa, grinned at you and wiped his tears.

"No you don't, hobgoblin," he said, his voice tight as he struggled to hold back his laughter enough to speak. George was still chuckling, his shoulders shaking as he gasped for breath. You opened your mouth to respond snarkily, but your mouth formed a small "O" of confusion. The sofa? What were you doing in The Burrow's living room?

You managed to wriggle out of the blanket enough to sit up right, your hair sticking up and flopping over as you did. You frowned and squinted, staring at Fred on the sofa in bewilderment. He leaned forward and patted your head.

"You're so cute when you're all tired and grumpy. Like a little angry mouse," he said with a crooked grin. Your cheeks flushed with heat and you glared up at him from beneath his hand. He chuckled and leaned back against the sofa, his shirt rustling as he moved. You caught the strange scent of... gunpowder? Ah. It all came flooding back.

You'd been jolted awake at three A.M that morning. The twins had kindly decided the new product the three of you had been working on- a prototype for something called "Weasley's Wonderfully Terrible Waking Wafers." To put it in short, it involved a burst of ice-cold wind, a loud horn that sounded like an atomic fart and a small yet still very real explosion. You gasped as you bolted up, almost screaming. You smacked the twins on the back of their heads and swore at them. Sleep would have come easily back to you, but, somehow, Ginny had remained utterly undisturbed by the racket and snored away contently, so of course, you and the twins had to refine the instructions and production. Fred and George managed to convince you to work on it there and then, which involved shoving heavy potion books under their noses and experimenting with smoking cauldrons. You barely remembered collapsing on the sofa... right where Fred was sitting now.

Your cheeks flushed even harder and your heart danced with embarrassment as you realised that you must have been sleeping right on top of him. Clearly enjoying your moment of clarity, Fred waggled his eyebrows at you and grinned.