Harry Potter One-shots

Soulmates(Fred Weasley)

A/n: Reader is Hufflepuff! (If you want you can comment your house and why you love it so much, but for the story to work, please be Hufflepuff for it. I think it's cool to see rebel Hufflepuffs)(I'm Gryffindor/Slytherin evenly)

Year: 1995
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(OUTSIDER)

In this world, the universe decides who you are destined to be with. Who is the person perfect for you. On your arm, it didn't matter which one, it had your soulmate's first words written. For Fred, unlike his brothers, he has an entire paragraph on his arm. It even went from his upper arm to the end of his hand where his fingers were. Mrs. Weasley would even put him in long-sleeve t-shirts so that way no one could see the words written on there, they really were not the most appropriate for a seven year-old to walk around with.

It was a normal day, after a normal night for Fred and George at Hogwarts. Detention, again, for a prank puled on Professor Snape. "I mean," George said as they waited around the corner for the next person who came. It was the middle of the day, and the two boys both had a free period right now. "We weren't gonna kill him. We just gave him a kind, caring, gift basket of shampoos that exploded in his face. Then promptly filled the entire dungeon with colorful, rainbow, bubbles." Fred nodded, really concentrating on the newest idea they had- we were hoping Umbridge would walk through and they could put her in red and gold instead of her normal pink. Everyone hated her, except for the stuck up Ravenclaws and a lot of the Slytherins. "What time is it George?" He looked at his watch and replied, "Eleven eighteen. People will be getting out of class in seven minutes."

"Okay," Fred sat down on one of the benches that was in the hall, George was sitting on the ground, the pranking paint in between us. He rolled up my sleeve. There, in pale gold-ish writing, was the long paragraph of words his soulmate that he would over hear or had pointed directly pointed to him. He had read the words so many times he had them memorized.

'I disagree with that statement. The war is needed to put another down. In this case- Voldemort. In any history book whether it be a muggle one or one that you can find in this library, they all speak of brave people who rose to fight. To fight so that way their children, and grandchildren, and friends could live peacefully. Voldemort is fucking back and the Ministry isn't listening because of our ignorant Minister. People aren't listening. We have to make a stand, and quite frankly you don't seem on board. With what you said I can get an idea of your character more than if I knew you my entire life. You're a coward- nothing more than that, nothing less.'

Fred had always wondered when would I hear this. There was a war? The Minister was a sack of shit, no question about it, but when he was younger Fred had always wondered what would happen. And now he was seventeen, no soulmate, and wondering when they would meet. Maybe they went to this school, or one that wasn't in Scotland. Beauxbatons? Durmstrang? What gender were they? Who were they?

"Fred! They're coming! C'mon." He pulled down his sleeve, covering the soulmate's words and joining George at the corner. The paint was up in the air, near a wooden beam near the ceiling, and perfectly positioned to spill on other students. Once the red and gold made contact with the person's robes, it would take a little over forty-eight hours to get it out. Even then it could take Hermione a while to find a spell to rid robes of the bright colors, and she had to be the smartest person in school. Students started flowing out of the doors and down the corridors. No one saw the Weasley twins as they waited until the right moment to execute their plan. When a girl in Ravenclaw was talking to a Slytherin boy, they became the targets. The two didn't notice the enchanted paint almost right above their heads, though one or two people did notice.

They stopped and watched, some snickering and some watching in almost horror. They were almost directly underneath it. Four steps, three steps, two steps- ploosh. The paint coated both of them and they stopped looking around as people laughed. George let out a snorting chuckle, and as Fred followed suit, he started to run away from the students. George's foot steps were behind him the entire way, as they ran away from the scene. After they turned the corner, who do you think was in the halls?