After the second kiss, y/N and Fred couldn’t stop anymore. Fred was thriving, of course. His plan was working like he dreamed it would, and although at first, you didn’t want to talk — you planned on keeping things impersonal so you could separate Fred from your real boyfriend —, he found his way around you to keep things a little more talkative.
A/N: HOLY SHIT! I FEEL EXTREMELY SINGLE RIGHT NOW BUT AM LOVING IT AT THE SAME TIME.
It was 3am. Three hours after midnight and four hours before you have to get up.
You continued to stare at a ceiling, not knowing what to do until a specific freckled face popped into your mind and you smiled.
You grabbed a pen, a piece of paper, folded it and charmed it off to fly excatly at his head.
It flew through the window and you sat on the edge of your bed, your fingers clawing the wooden piece and tapping on it lightly. Biting your lower lip as the anxiety made an appereance, you quickly fell back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
You smashed your hands into your eyeballs and started rubbing them furiously. You wanted to let out a frustrated groan but you wouldn’t dare yourself to wake up your roomates. You sat back up and ran your hand through your hair, looking at the odd sleeping positions of your friends.
'Cute sleepe-’ interrupting your thoughts, you felt something hit the back of your head with incredible amount of force.
You rubbed the back of your head but quickly grabbed the piece of paper that landed behind you. You unfolded it and smiled at the response, grabbing absolutely nothing and running out of the dorm.
Panting at the destination, you couldn’t help yourself but smile as you stared at the doorknob. Your hand twisted it gently but as soon as it it the door swung open,one arm wrapped itself around your stomach, the other over your mouth as you let out muffled giggled.
“Shhh!” he shushed you with a smile, turning you around and finding you so gorgeous with your bright eyes and a few curls from your wrecked date. “They’re heavy sleepers but I’d still want to be quiet if I were you.” he whispered, pressing his index finger against his lips and wrapping his long arms around you.
And it was as if the world took a fast spin for you when his masculine scent entered your lungs and all you could feel was home, warmth and safety. You smiled into his chest, bringing him closer and just standing in his embrace for a whole lot.
He pulled away, squeezing your chin and scrunching his nose. “Let’s go.” he put his hand on your back and lead you to his bed.
You crawled into it, running your hands through the soft cotton sheets and hugging the pillow where you could still feel his warm energy radiating. You smiled up to him, then at the realization quickly dropped it. “I forgot to tie my hair.”
“What?” he chuckled, climbing on the space next to you.
“You hate when my hair gets all up in your face.” you sat up, pouting a bit. “Do you have any hair ties?”
“Yeah sure. Next to my makeup bag. Must be plenty for my long hair.” he joked and you rolled your eyes, punching him gently. “I don’t really mind the hair.” he spoke softly, simpering sincerely and reaching his hand for yours, pulling you back down to lay beside him. You laid your head on his chest, one hand right next to it as the other was cramped to his hip.
His one hand was wrapped around you, pulling closer against his body as the other placed itself close to your hand on his chest.
You kept staring at it. Such a large, nicely toned hand. Knuckles were outlined into the veins following to his forearm. Fingertips were soft from the looks of it but probably softer on touch, as usually they are.
You wanted to risk it. You wanted your hand to touch his but it was as if your body wasn’t listening to you.
Yet, you were determined.
You slowly reached for his hand, your fingers touching his. Just touching and nothing more.
Your heart, however, was racing to the speed of light. “(y/n)?” you could hear him mumble and you were sure this will be the end of you. You crossed the line.
But did you really? - You were literally in this man’s bed and hand touching would be crossing the line.
“Freddie?” you asked in return, as soon as you remembered that you needed to answer him.
“Next time you sent me the stupid letter, make sure it doesn’t end up in my mouth.” he smiled and you started laughing, not even realizing how his fingers interlocked with yours and squeezes your hand.
When you did realize, just after letting the laughter die out, you couldn’t help yourself but feel overjoyed.
Overjoyed? Overhappy? Over the moon? Probably over the whole damn universe.
In years you thought you and Fred were nothing but friends but looking at your hands together… Just together was creating so many thoughts in your head that you would once grimace at.
With your heart still fluttering like crazy, you nuzzled closer to him and brought your locked hands to your nose, touching his knuckles gently.
All you wanted was stay like this forever and the worries, stress and insomnia? - Those disappeared as if they were never even there.
request #1: Can I request soft Fred Weasley comforting his girlfriend when she’s not feeling well/on her period and falling behind in classes/ homework? Pretty please 🥺
request #2: Can you write a Fred x reader where the reader is on her period while at Hogwarts during a time when a lot of tests are happening and she needs to be studying but isn’t and Fred notices cause usually she’s like Hermione and always does homework/studies and he figures out why she isn’t and helps her feel better?
a/n: THIS IS WAY OVERDUE IM SORRY but i decided to combine these 2 reqs bc they were pretty similar !!
[Y/N] is stressed.
School has never been a piece of cake for anyone—not even for Hermione Granger, who is one of the brightest people at Hogwarts, and certainly not for her, one of the Gryffindor Quidditch team’s Chasers, and on top of that, a prefect currently studying for her N.E.W.Ts.
Wood expects her to practice out by the Quidditch pitch every free period in preparation for the upcoming match against Hufflepuff. This goes for every member of the team—even the ones who, like [Y/N], are studying for the so-called “big exams”. And despite [Y/N] wanting to do well in her tests, she also doesn’t want to lose her position in the Quidditch team—so she goes to the practice sessions, anyway, even if it’s at the cost of her sleep.
That—coupled with her prefect duties and schoolwork—is wearing her out. So far she has managed to miraculously plow through, but when that time of the month comes and she can barely even bring herself to get out of bed, [Y/N] begins to wonder whether giving up would be a better option.
She could do it. Drop everything and lay in bed all day for the next week or so with a bag of chocolates at her side and pillows cushioning her entire body.
She could—technically, anything in the world is possible—but she shouldn’t, because she has obligations. Prefect tasks; patrolling the corridors and making sure no first-years go astray in the Forbidden Forest (it already happened once—she’s not going to let it happen again), N.E.W.T. revisions, homework, Quidditch practice, homework, and then even more homework—
The very moment she wakes up and feels the pain in her lower abdomen, she knows she is done for. She only barely drags herself out of bed and trudges to her classes the entire day feeling like pure and utter dung. Her entire body is sore and her entire mood cranky, but that hardly matters because she has homeworkto do. And classes to go to. And Quidditch practice and patrolling and studying and Merlin-knows-what-else.
The sourness of her mood doesn’t go amiss by any of her friends, and certainly not by her boyfriend, Fred Weasley, who automatically just knows when something is out of the ordinary with her. And while her friends decide to leave her alone after noting her less than pleasant mood, Fred does quite the opposite.
Which is, of course, no different from what he does everyday: stick by her side like glue. And while they’d been best friends for a while, it’s only been a few months since Fred finally sucked up the courage to ask her out. So naturally Fred has very little experience with, ah, women’s dilemmas.
To put it simply, he doesn’t know how to deal with a girl on her bloody (no pun intended) period. For the love of Merlin, he can’t even tell.
So he’s a little surprised and his feelings are a teeny bit hurt when he nudges her in the middle of Charms class and whispers, “Was that an earthquake? Or did you just rock my world?” only for her to shake her head without even as much as looking at him.
And so Fred’s thought process goes like this: he’s done something terribly wrong. He doesn’t know what, but he must have, and now he has to make up for it—whatever it is.
First, though, he has to figure out what.
It’s midnight. [Y/N] doesn’t know how on earth she managed to get through the entire day without passing out, but she did and now here she is in the nearly empty common room, sitting on the carpet in front of the fireplace with several sheets of parchment and open textbooks splayed out before her.
Jotting down History of Magic notes, her face is scrunched up in the utmost concentration. Fred watches her from where he’s sitting on the couch, pouting a little.
“Don’t you think you should be resting by now?” tries Fred, the concern in his voice audible as his gaze darts from her to her homework.
She doesn’t respond. Fred sighs and gets up off the couch to sit down next to her on the ground. But even then, she doesn’t look up from her homework, so Fred takes matters into his own hands and reaches out with his hand to gently cup her cheek, trying to tilt her head towards him.
“Not now, Fred..” she mutters, leaning away from him a little to keep writing. His hand hovers in mid-air, fingers now just barely brushing her face as she’s moved away. “I have to.. finish this..”
Her tongue is poking out in concentration as she almost feverishly moves her quill over paper. Fred tries not to feel too dejected and lets her be, waiting until she’s broken out of her trance enough to grab her attention again. In the meantime, he props his elbows on his knees, the pout on his lips very much evident as he watches her work. He still doesn’t know why she’s been acting so distant, and no matter how much he tries to mull things over in his brain, he still doesn’t know why exactly she’s angry at him. Or if she even is angry.
Was his pick-up line really that bad? Could it maybe be because he’d kept trying to play with her hair in potions class the other day? Or is it because of what he did last week, when he’d talked McGonagall’s ear off about how wonderful a girlfriend he had? Maybe Fred should’ve been a bit more considerate—[Y/N] has always been a teacher’s pet, after all, and he knows that the teachers themselves were surprised when they found out that she was dating him, one-half of the devious Weasley twins who had six O.W.L.s combined..
[Y/N]’s hand stills, and for a moment Fred thinks she’s finally finished her homework, but her shoulders have bowed a little and her eyes have closed. The effect this image has on Fred is instantaneous: the pout on his lips is replaced quickly by a fond smile as he lets out a quick breath of slightly dubious laughter and moves to gently tap her on the shoulder.
Slowly, slowly, her eyes blink open.
Another tiny laugh. “You fell asleep for a second there, love,” says Fred softly, hand moving to touch her hair, and he’s so bloody endearedby her it hurts. Voice a mere mumble like he’s afraid of speaking too loud, he says, “Reckon we should turn in for the night, yeah? You and me both.”
There’s silence as she exhales, leaning into his touch almost unconsciously as her eyes close and her shoulders slump. “I’m really tired,” she tells him quietly, nose wrinkling a little as her mouth stretches open in a yawn. (Good grief, Fred’s heart aches.) He scoots forward a little into her, gathering her into his lap where she almost automatically curls up, head on his shoulder and her lips just barely grazing the side of his neck.
Fred can’t even remember what he’d been agonizing over just moments before. All his fluttering heart cares about at the moment is his sleepy girlfriend, who’s shifting a little in his lap to get herself more comfortable, mumbling something inaudible in her half-asleep state. He has to physically suppress himself from throwing his head back and laughing out loud, because something about the situation he’s in is making him feel oddly euphoric. He only has to think about if for a few moments before he realizes why: it’s because of how adorable she’s being. And Fred’s heart might be melting in his chest—should he be concerned?
“I’m gonna carry you up to your dorm, okay?” says Fred, tone just loud enough to make himself heard but quiet and soft enough so as to not jar her awake. He feels her nod a little against his shoulder. Carefully, he gets to his feet, one arm under her legs and the other supporting her back the way a groom would carry his bride. (The thought crosses Fred’s head very briefly and just like that he’s smiling goofily to himself.)
And the moment is romantic and intimate in a quiet, calming way, until Fred makes the big mistake of murmuring, “I’ll fix up your homework and bring it to you so you can work on it tomorrow” and [Y/N] quite literally freezes in his arms. Her entire body goes rigid.
“Homework. Oh, crap.” Fully awake now, she lifts her head off of his shoulder, looks back at her pile of homework still on the ground, and then, her panicked eyes meeting his, she says, “Oh, no. No. I can't—I’ve got to get it done now, Fred.”
An incredulous sound tumbles past his lips. “I could’ve sworn you were asleep two seconds ago.”
She sighs, squeezing her eyes shut for a few seconds before peeling them open again. Fred notes that the bags under them look even more pronounced up close; something that has him frowning at her. “Put me down, please? I really have to get that essay done.”
He huffs, shakes his head, and starts walking towards the staircase leading to the girls’ dormitory. “What—” [Y/N] yelps, looking up at him with an expression that suggests he’s admitted to strangling a rabbit. “Fred, I said put me down—”
“And let you work yourself to death? No can do, love.” Fred looks down at her, lips pressed together in a sorry smile as he shakes his head. He lifts his gaze back away from her as he begins climbing up the steps, trying not to jostle [Y/N] too much in his arms. His tone sing-song, he says, “You need to rest. The essay can wait.“
[Y/N] opens her mouth to predictably retaliate, but Fred stops halfway up the staircase and presses a kiss to her lips, effectively cutting her off. At first she’s stiff, but it only takes her a few seconds to relax and melt into him.
When Fred pulls away with one last peck to the lips, he smiles down at her, eyes twinkling. “Have I changed your mind with my superior snogging skills?”
Unable to help herself, she lets out an exasperated laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. But even then her gaze lingers on her homework, still on the floor in front of the fireplace—totally not yet finished—
“But I’ve only got a few pages left to go,” she says in one last stroke of adamancy.
”And what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you stay up all night without getting enough sleep?” They’ve reached the top of the staircase now, and Fred is fumbling with the doorknob of her dorm room, trying to open it with one hand without having to set her down.
Fred pauses trying to open the door, lips unconsciously twitching up into an incredulous grin as he raises his eyebrows at her. Of course she had to use his one big weakness against him—he loves when she calls him Freddy. Or perhaps love is a severe understatement, because he always goes all putty in her hands whenever she sings it into his ear or shouts it at him from all the way across the hallways.
But Fred isn’t having it, not this time. “But [Y/N],” he mimics her tone, still grinning, and the voice in his heart tells him to peck her lips again, so he does. “I’m telling you, love, you need sleep. And besides, we’re already here—once I get this door open—aha!”
The door clicks open and reveals behind it the dark seventh year girls’ dorm room. Fred peers inside, unsure as he steps a single hesitant foot through the door, and then he withdraws back into the landing. “Suppose I’ll have to drop you off here,” tuts Fred. “Can’t really barge into an all-girls dorm room in the middle of the night—even when I’m with you. Mum would have my head.” Gingerly, he sets her down on the ground, making sure she’s standing up completely before he takes his hands away. Grinning, he holds his palm out towards her and says, “That’ll be twenty galleons.”
”I didn’t even ask for—“
“A kiss, then.”
And her incomplete homework is still lingering in her head, bothering her—she really does need to have that done at least before breakfast tomorrow—but Fred is standing in front of her with the same playful smile that [Y/N] has never learned to resist so she sighs and stands on her tip-toes, places her hand on the back of his neck, and pulls him in for a kiss.
Fred is smiling—she can feel it against her lips. Eventually she starts smiling too, unable to help herself. When she pulls away, Fred cups her cheeks in his hand and pecks her forehead—and then her nose, and her cheeks, and her eyelids, and then she’s laughing, saying, “What are you doing?”
Fred lands another kiss to the tip of her nose, then drops his hands back to his sides. “You look far too lovely for someone in dire need of sleep.”
At the mention of sleep, a yawn tears its way out of her throat. Fred has to restrain himself from doubling over and sobbing because Merlin’s beard was that adorable.
”Fine,” [Y/N] says through yet another yawn, hand coming up to rub at her eyes. “Fine. Maybe I am tired.”
Fred gasps far too dramatically. “Who ever could have guessed?”
[Y/N] may be sleepy, but she still has enough strength within her to reach out and shove him lightly by the shoulder. Fred is as theatrical as always; he clutches the spot where she’d touched him as though he’s been fatally wounded.
She rolls her eyes, smiling. Another yawn. Fred drops his act and shoves his hands into his pockets, expression somber as he looks at her, eyes dancing over her own tired ones. “Go get some sleep, alright?”
She purses her lips, shoulders slumping in defeat as she nods. “Okay. Suppose I’ll just try to finish it as fast as I can tomorrow.” And then, voice going soft, she says, “Thanks, Fred.”
Fred is so goddamned endeared.
“Sorry about being so bloody cranky. I'm—“ she pauses, eyes darting away for a moment as she gestures wildly to nothing in particular.
Fred raises his eyebrows.
“On my period,” she mutters. “Have I made it awkward? I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to think you’d done something wrong for me to be acting.. you know.”
Fred’s brows have risen so far up his forehead he’s surprised they haven’t disappeared into his hair. His mouth has fallen open a little in surprise; whatever he’d been expecting her to say, it certainly hadn’t been that. But part of him is relieved at the knowledge that he hadn’t done anything wrong.
“So that’s why you’ve been acting like someone pissed in your tea,” says Fred teasingly. She rolls her eyes again—another yawn; the largest one so far, actually. He can’t help the fond laugh that tears its way out of his heart and past his lips. Reaching out, he places a hand on the back of her head and kisses her forehead. “Sweet dreams, love.”
She wraps her arms around his middle and nods into his chest, and Fred’s heart melts. “You too, Freddy.”
The next morning, [Y/N] wakes up to a mysteriously completed set of History of Magic homework and a bag of Honeydukes’ chocolates on her bedside table.
#harry potter #harry potter oneshot #harry potter oneshots #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #fred weasley #fred weasley oneshot #fred weasley oneshots #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #george weasley#weasley twins
Warnings: Pure fluff, Mentions of alcohol, gets a little steamy at the end but not that intense
Oh my god, this might have been the fluffiest thing I’ve ever written. I’m so soft for soft George I love him so much. I also love the idea of Fred being a little shit and teasing George nonstop. Soft George is for my discord ladies <3
“HARRY POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS!” Cheers erupt from the sea of students decked in red and gold as Lee Jordan screams into the mic. “George!” you shout hoping he could hear you from where he was. You see him look around the crowd until his eyes land on you. He smiles and makes a heart shape with his hands and winks at you. A few girls scream around you but you stay silent and grin at the cheesy nature of your boyfriend. Fred flies next to him and makes a vomit motion causing George to smack him on the head. Rolling your eyes you head down to meet George outside of the changing rooms.
George finally shows up after what you assumed to be a team meeting gone long. He had changed out of his quidditch jersey and back into his normal school uniform. His face was still red from the intensity of the game but he had a giant smile on his face.
“Hello love” George says holding out his arms to you. You run towards him and jump into his arms.
“Congrats Georgie!” You say hugging him tightly. He laughs at your excitement and pecks a quick kiss on your cheek. “You played so well” You praise after jumping down from his arms. “Well, what can I say” George says standing up a little straighter.
“Oi, where’s my after game kiss?” Fred teases slapping George on the shoulder.
“Shove off” George grumbles rubbing his shoulder.
“So, Are you coming to the party tonight?” Fred asks you while putting his elbow on George’s shoulder. “I don’t know, not much of party person” You wanted to celebrate your boyfriends win but not if there were going to be a bunch of rowdy students.
“Aw come on, its only the quidditch team and a few friends” Fred pushes giving you puppy dog eyes.
You look to George who isn’t being much help as he is pouting silently begging you to go. You almost laugh at how cute they both look. So serious during a game but so childish outside of it.
“Oh alright, I’ll go” you say finally giving in. George lights up and moves to hug you again letting almost fall. “Gee thanks brother” Fred says sarcastically.
“See you later” As Fred leaves George peppers your face with kisses. “George? What are you doing?” He was affectionate but that tended to be in private.
“Can’t I make out with my beautiful girlfriend? I mean we could do other things if you wanted to” His cheeky grin makes your stomach twist.
“You know,” you lean closer to him, ghosting your lips over his. George leans towards you to capture your lips in a kiss. “You have that potions essay to finish” You lean away and start walking towards the castle. “Oh come on!” George groans from behind you.
Whenever Ron would be watching a show on the telly , Fred and / or George would sneakily grab the remote whilst their younger brother wasn’t looking or went to use the loo. So when he’d need it he won’t be able to find it. Then panic would ensue and he’d go searching for it everywhere.
request from nonnie! “Hey erica! I have a request for you, it’s a bit challenging i think but I’m sure you’ll do perfectly. Imagine like, the fake dating trope with fred, BUT at the end it’s a george x reader? Like, imagine george feeling uncomfortable and jealous seeing the reader and fred acting like a couple even though he knows its not real and stuff anyway im obsessed with your writing love you bye”
pairing: fred x reader, george x reader
word count: 3.8k
A/N: wait, i loved this request. so different from the normal fake dating tropes! i hope this lived up to expectations.. idk why i just feel like my writing sort of sucks in this?? wah, idk, sad, feedback pls? also we’ve got some POV changes in this but they’re pointed out ayyyee, thanks for enduring the fluffiest fluff ever bc that’s all i have to give you hooligans
You could practically hear the smirk that grew on his face — he wasn’t exactly being subtle. He took his place next to you in the Great Hall, ignored the fact that you were removing spellbooks and quills from your bag to begin your work, and didn’t bother to heed Snape’s warning glance.
Fred’s voice was a little too sweet for your liking; sweet as sugar, in fact. You knew this voice. It’s the voice he always put on whenever he needed a favor — whenever he wanted something from you. You didn’t look up from the table.
“Whatever it is, I think I’m going to pass.”
He scoffed and closed your spellbook. You grunted in annoyance; you were positive he wasn’t going down without a fight, but you supposed you still needed to try, even though you knew in your heart that this was a fight you wouldn’t win. You turned toward him and he batted his eyelashes at you.
“Dear, dear Y/N — you won’t pass when I tell you what’s in it for you.”
“What type of chaotic mischief that you have planned could possibly be beneficial to me?”
He digested this; you were right, and he knew it. He just shrugged, though, took in your rejection and tried to use it to his advantage.
He nodded across to the other end of the Gryffindor table; there sat Angelina Johnson — fellow Gryffindor, member of the DA, Quidditch captain and, to your most recent knowledge, Fred Weasley’s crush. Again. Boy was crazy about her.
“Thought we already tried this, Freddie?” you sighed, stealing your spellbook back from his very tight grasp and opening it to your desired page. He huffed a bit, and you were quite sure he was remembering the disaster that was the Yule Ball, just a year ago.
You noticed a small grin lift his cheeks; he looked rather smug now, which made you worried. What was it, exactly, that he had planned? “I know last year didn’t go exactly as I’d hoped.” Right. Fred had gotten a little too sloppy on his date with Angelina. She’d been a bit turned off. The night ended and she never pursued anything else; he was so embarrassed, neither did he. Fred Weasley? Embarrassed? The word wasn’t even in his day to day vernacular. But boy, was he shook.
“But it was a long time ago — besides, she’s been sending me all types of signals.”
“I don’t think her eye rolls mean she fancies you, Fred.”
He jabbed you playfully in the ribs. “Don’t be rude, Y/N. I know she fancies me. I just know it. You don’t go on just one date with Fred Weasley.”
You scoffed at his air of egotistical confidence; you shut your eyes at the prospect of him maybe going to someone else for help. Much to your dismay, it didn’t happen. He just stayed where he was, resting his chin on his hand, peering at you longingly as if his staring alone would convince you to say yes to whatever he had up his sleeve. After a few minutes, you said, “If I agree to help you, you prat, will you leave me alone?”
“Can’t say leaving you alone would exactly work with what I’ve got planned,” he replied, relaxing now, tapping his foot underneath the table and not taking his eyes off of Angelina. “I need you to pretend to date me.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Relax, Y/N, I’m not going to pin you against the wall and snog you, if that’s what you’re so worried about,” he laughed, running a hand through his hair. You felt as though your throat was closing up at the mere thought of it. “Just some hand holding, things of the like. Need to make her jealous. Need to make her realize what she’s missing.”
You groaned in frustration. “Can I take back what I said?”
“Nope,” he answered brightly. “You can’t. Thanks for coming along for the ride. Don’t get in too deep, though. No falling in love with me, alright?”
You felt a pang in your chest; you weren’t in love with him and you never would be. He was your best friend and nothing would change that. You knew it and so did he. You felt worried, though. What would others think? What if Angelina did get jealous — but in a bad way? Or worse — what would George say?
His was the only opinion that mattered to you, truthfully.
Summary: You and Molly have a deep conversation about your relationship with George while doing the dishes.
(This imagine made me so happy to write, but it absolutely broke my heart at the same time. Is that possible?)
The burrow was snug and beyond cozy in the winter. Sheets of snow laid themselves on the lawn and froze the windows. While the upper floors stayed next to cold, the fire from the living room warmed the dining hall and the kitchen. The days of winter break consisted of snow piles and cold winded quidditch games, with Mrs. Weasley scolding the boys for the snow they tracked in the door. Dinners were close and comfortable as plates and dishes of food were passed around and chatter filled the dining room. By the end of the warm family dinner, everyone was unbuttoning their pants and patting their tummies.
“Anyone care for a game of exploding snap?” Ron asked, shuffling the cards.
“Ron, no one wants to play you because you whine when you lose and it’s pathetic,” Ginny teased him. “But, I’ll go a few rounds, I’m not sure I’m ready to get up anyway.”
The living room was filled with the Weasley teenagers, Harry and Hermione. George glanced at you and patted his lap for you to come sit with his siblings. Instead, you sent him a smile and shook your head before nodding towards the kitchen. George raised his eyebrow, not entirely sure why you wanted to help with the dishes when they could be cleaned magically in seconds, however he gave you a wink and turned back to the card game.
You entered the kitchen smelling the dinner that was cooking hours before. The kitchen wasn’t quite a mess but did have some dirties pots and pans in the sink. You rolled up the sleeves from your knitted sweater and began to scrub the pot. You heard a shift in the floorboard and chuckled,
“George, I hope you’re coming to help rather than distract me your hellish and insidious ways.”
A laugh rang in your ears, hearty but definitely not George. Eyes widening as you saw George’s mother rather instead. “I’m glad to know you two are doing well,” Mrs. Weasley rolled up her sleeves as well before helping you with the dishes.
“Oh! Mrs. Weasley-” She sent you a pointed look and silently reminded you to correct yourself, “I mean, er, Molly. I thought you were George!” You both let out a laugh and continued to scrub. “Thank you so much for dinner, I think I’ll be full into the next week.”
Mrs. Weasley tutted her lips and disagreed, “Oh, nonsense, Dearie. You need some more meat on your bones, and I’ll happily feed you to the brim.”
You giggled before placing a plate on the counter, “You sound like George.”
“Is that so?” Mrs. Weasley asked in a curious tone.
“Oh yes, you really should hear him at Hogwarts. He’s always reminding me to eat during meals rather than study. And forcing me to take breaks to drink water and nap. And if I refused, he’d throw a fit! If I remember correctly, he even swaddled me like a baby in order to fall asleep rather than drive myself studying for my potions quiz. He’s quite caring, you know? It’s one of the things I truly love about him.” your voice trailed off, “you’ve raised a lovely man, Molly.”
Molly stayed quiet and you feared that you had offended her or something along the lines. You cursed at yourself silently, afraid that your comment somehow created a hatred within her. But, in actuality, Molly found herself loving you more and more. Her silence was nothing more than stunned awe. She continued to clean the dishes.
“You know, Dear. I had two older brothers before.”
You nodded solemnly, “Yes, I heard that they had passed. I’m so sorry, Molly.” Molly shook her head quickly,
“Fabian and Gideon…” her voice had a shakiness that you couldn’t bear to hear, “I suppose I don’t talk about them nearly as much as I should, however, they remind me so clearly of Fred and George. Especially Gideon. I swear, I could close my eyes and hear him in Georgie’s voice. They both were so joyful and proud and quite stubborn. George’s face nearly mirrored Gideons. And it,” her voice continued to shake, “it makes me quite happy.”
“It does?” You asked quietly, not wanting to upset her more, “What do you mean?”
“Oh well,” Molly cleared her throat and dried her hands on the towel nearest to the counter, “My brothers died young, during the war.” you met her eyes, “and it saddened me for a while to think of my eldest brothers never being able to marry nor have children. But, seeing Georgie and you, together? I, well. It feels as though Gideon has lived through George and it… it makes me happy to know you two have each other. Especially in such dark times,” Molly added.
“Oh Molly,” You gushed, feeling tears sting your eyes,
“No no, Dear. Please don’t cry. It’s not a sad thing. In fact, it’s an extraordinarily happy thing.” Molly pulled you in for a hug, giving you a tight squeeze, “I’m excited to call you my future daughter in law.” You wrapped your arms around Molly before letting out a small laugh.
“Oi, what the bloody hell is going on here?” George’s voice interrupted the moment as you groaned.
“Oh George, I love you so, but you never understand social cues.” George, in a million years, would never ever wash the dishes, especially without magic. George would rather de-gnome the garden thousands of times than do the dishes, however there he was, dipping his hands into the soapy water and beginning to scrub the pots and pans. He leaned and gave you a small peck on your awaiting lips before continuing and telling you about Ron’s excruciating loss in exploding snap. Molly felt her heart warm at the sight of you two close together. His hip bumping against yours playfully and you scolding him when he splashed you with water. Her son, a man she watched grow from a little boy into a sprouting young man, in love and living. Nothing could make Molly happier.
A/n - this was requested by @coffee-wihtout-caffeine . I added my own spin to it, but I still hope you like it! If not, I can always write you another one! this is pure fluff. Warnings: mention of sex.
Flashback in italics
looked at yourself in the mirror and smiled, this was it. Today was the day you
were going to marry your fiance - Fred Weasley. You heard a knock on your door, “Fred, I told you can’t see me before the wedding!” you screamed, knowing
that he would probably be standing outside with a pout on his face. Both of you
had decided to spend your last week before your wedding away from each other. Everyday
you regretted it, but you knew it would be worth it in the end.
“It’s Molly, love. Your future mother in law.” You blushed furiously
as you rushed to open the door, making sure you didn’t crease your dress. Molly stood there with a box in her hand as she walked inside the room.
“Oh you look lovely, Fred will not be able to take his eyes off you.” You smiled at her, she was always very supportive of Fred and you. In fact, she was the one who introduced both of you, well - kind of.
A/N: soooo this was supposed to be a fluff piece for Lena’s ( @angelinathebook ) writing challenge and the prompts are under fluff, but it turned into angst…I am very very sorry. But, I hope you like it anyways? Feedback is always appreciated! Happy reading guys <3 (also, I’m taking a page out of @obsessedwithrandomthings ‘s book. the flashbacks are in italics)
Prompts: (bolded in the text)
6. “I never want to be without you”
7. “I just want you to hold me”
Not my GIF - credits to the owner
She was numb. The world seemed to move around her in blurs. It had been this way for 6 months now. No one existed around her at the funeral except for George and he was just as distant as she was. Nothing seemed to matter as she packed up their apartment. Work was the furthest thing from her mind when she was there. All senses had left her body.
Her family rarely left her alone and Molly made sure to keep Y/N as close to the family as possible, but she had dug herself in this hole that she didn’t know how to escape. Instead of building a ladder to get out, the hole seemed to be getting deeper.
Without Fred Weasley in the world anymore, without him being her whole world, life seemed pointless. Thunder crashed outside of her office window and the sound threw her back to those many nights in Hogwarts when everything seemed simpler.