While In Hogwarts Imagines

Better In Your Arms (Fred X Reader)

This was supposed to be just a simple wedding, something everyone could enjoy despite knowing every dark witch or wizard was closing them in. Sheep to the slaughter. Except there are no sheep, just some very afraid people.

Everything had been perfect at first. Bill and Fleur had been wed in the gazebo raised in the garden of the burrow, an obvious choice really. Ginny and Fleur's sister, Gabrielle, had been bridesmaids and Charlie served as best man.

No one thought to worry, it was just a wedding, wine and cake was all that mattered along with all the dancing and enchantments that kept things running smoothly. In fact, keeping a steady beat was the most complicated thing so far that night.

Fred had never been so on edge yet excited in his life. He had spent half of his time studying the sky, trying to find anything even remotely suspicious in the tree line. A face, the flash of a not so safe spell escaping a cluster of branches.

And the other half he spent spinning you on the dance floor, tipping you back every chance he got. Placing sneaky kisses to your lips, cheeks, nose, anywhere he could reach. Whispering mildly inappropriate things in your ear with a boyish grin on his face.

Now, you wished you could hear them again without swatting him away, wanting nothing more to see that cheeky smirk and menacing gleam that never truly left his eye.

The message from the ministry had barely found its way to you before the death eaters came, dressed in midnight black to combat the dark of the sky, drowning out the twinkling lights of the tent.

You and Arthur had instantly turned Harry, Ron and Hermione away, forcing them to leave instead of fight. There was no point in them staying, possibly falling victim to the wrong spell cast by the purist form of evil.

And then there was that word, one you hadn't the time to deflect. "Sectumsempra."

Harry had told you of the curse. "Violent and bloody." he had said. Well, he wasn't wrong.

You felt it the second you heard it. It was hot, a blistering wave of fire that scorched your skin with a flaming blade coloured red. You could barely breath, the throbbing pain too much as more and more slashes smother your body.

"Fred. . ." You croak, pressing your trembling hands against the oozing wounds that stain your dress crimson and brown, dyeing the green that matched Fred's tie. The red head spins on his heel, eyes widening, arms outstretching when you fall forward.

"No, no, no." He lowers the pair of you to the floor, resting your head in his lap. Fred looks to his dad for help but finds nothing but shock and uncertainty. You look up at him with a dreamy look in your eye which falters when you wince, the result of him pressing a hand to the worst of the gashes.

You force a smile, anything to ease the fear Fred was practically radiating. Resting a hand over his, you sigh through the pain, chocking up blood in the process. "I really liked this dress." You frown when Fred doesn't even chuckle. "You're supposed to laugh, pretend I'm funny."

"I don't know what to do." Fred runs his fingers through your hair, more to calm himself than to calm you. He looks over to his brother, Bill, hoping to find an answer that he didn't have himself. But, he finds nothing but a sympathetic look and glazed eyes. "Please, somebody tell me what to do."

Silence.

It wasn't that nobody wanted to help, they just, well, they couldn't. No one knew how.

"It's ok." You mumble, lulling your head against his leg. "I mean this sucks but it's ok. Even better in your arms."

"No, you are not dying. Stop talking like you're going to die." Arthur waves everybody out of the tent, leaving the pair of you alone with nothing but murmurs and tears to fill the silence. "(y/n), you can't--"

"Never been able to. . . to stop m. . . e doing anything before, Freddie." You're breathing falters as tears form in your eyes, drowning the world around you in the agony that sends your body through a mid-summer heatwave.

Fred clamps his eyes shut when you whimper, no longer able to keep the pain hidden. He couldn't watch this, you, he couldn't watch as you died. But, he couldn't let you do it alone, he wouldn't.

"I love you." Fred was struggling to keep the tears at bay, hoping to not have to cry infront of you. Instead, he grins.

You smile back, the same smile you flashed him on the train all those years ago when the pair of you could barely be considered as a witch or wizard. When you struggled to tell him and George apart because they were just too similar in all the worst ways. Way back when he used to steal you out of class, force you onto a broom so he could take the pair of you to a secret spot to do more than just talk.

The burning had passed. Now you just felt numb, cold enough to freeze the entirety of the Loch Ness. You were sure your tears had turned to ice on your pale skin splattered with red, some fresh, some dried trickles.

"I love you too, red." You exhale one last time, sharp and fast. The bleeding seems to stop when your eyes flutter closed. Fred shakes his head, refusing to believe that thats it. He lies you on the ground, places his entwined hands on your chest.

"Wake up." He pushes his hands into your chest, a feeble attempt at bringing you back. Fred sits in a pool of your blood, probably a pool of all your blood. His suit matches your dress, a mud brown, completely sticky. "Wake up!"

This time he practically screams, though his plea falls on deaf ears. You couldn't hear him, see him, feel the splash of his tears against your neck. A hands rests on his shoulder, and looking back, he finds George.

"Fred, she's gone." George pulls his brother into his arms, holding him as he uncontrollably sobs, something he had never seen his twin do in all of the years they had been alive. Fred holds onto his brother like a life line, afraid that if he lets go, he'll lose more than his grip on his brother.

Reality was a harsh thing. Fred prayed that each time opened his eyes you would be there, smiling down at him like all of this was just some awful nightmare created by the darkest part of his mind.

But it's not.

All he finds is you, bloody yet beautiful, a flawless corpse surrounded by flower petals and sickly red. Fred still thinks you're beautiful, even in death you are the most perfect thing he had ever seen.

Still, he wished this wasn't how he'd remember you.

Dead.

And not at his side until the day he dies.