Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader - The Potion's Spell

You were exiting the Great Hall after an early breakfast when you saw a certain redhead with his matching robes standing at the door, like he was waiting for you. You and Fred were friends, though you hadn't seen a lot of him lately. It wasn't like you expected anything less; you both had opposite schedules and you tried to stay away from the troublesome twins when they were cooking something up so that you wouldn't get dragged into it.

But something was different today. The second you passed by him, he fell into step beside you.

“Lovely morning, eh, (Y/N)?” he asked.

“Color me impressed, Fred. I didn't think you got up this early.” You smirked. “But you obviously didn't get a lot of sleep last night.”

He grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. His red hair was spiked in all directions and his robes were still a bit wrinkly like he'd slept in them for some reason.

“You always did see right through me,” he murmured. You glanced up at him to see him staring intently back at you. Even though he looked tired, his eyes still glowed with mischief. But a different kind of mischief than you'd seen before.

You flushed slightly under his intense gaze and he smirked.

“Hey, (Y/N), do you think you could help me with my History of Magic essay later?”

“Yeah...but don't you have to practice for the game tomorrow night?”

“You're right! Maybe you could make some time for me right now?”

“I guess I could.” You turned towards the Gryffindor common room, but Fred grabbed your hand. He tugged you back towards the library.

“Hope you don't mind. I just thought we could use a little more privacy.” You followed him as he practically raced through the corridors. You'd never seen the prankster this excited to study anything. Certainly not History of Magic. It was odd, to say the least.

But who knew? Maybe he was turning over some kind of new leaf.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was doing it again. You didn't even have to look up. You could feel his eyes boring into you.

“Fred. You're not paying attention,” you said, shutting your book.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, for one, you've let me ramble on about the Troll War for the past twenty minutes without interrupting me for any reason. I can feel you staring at me, and I know that's your leg that's been nudging me for the last five minutes! Now what could you possibly be thinking about?”

“Have you ever noticed your robes really make your eyes stand out?”

You glanced over at him. “Excuse me?” He was sitting there with his chin in his hand, staring at you like Ron stared at the last helping of figgy pudding.

“You get this little wrinkle on your forehead when you're concentrating, or when you're annoyed. It's adorable. And your hair falls right in front of your face when you study...and you're right. I haven't heard a word you've been saying. But I know you can make even the Troll Wars sound interesting. I just wish you'd say my name more often.”

“Fred, are you feeling all right?”

“I'm more than all right. Just sitting here, in this quiet corner of the library listening to you talk. There aren't words to describe how you make me feel. And I should know, I stayed up half the night just trying to think of some. But I'd be even better if you'd let me stare into your eyes like this more...” He gently took your hand in his own. “...If you'd let me hold your hands in mine...” He moved some hair from your face, brushing your warm cheek. “And if you'd let me feel your cheeks and your lips against mine. Please--”

“Fred! There you are!”

You both started slightly at Lee Jordan's sudden presence. You quickly pulled yourself away, trying to hide your burning cheeks and your pounding heart. Fred made a whining sound as Lee hauled him to his feet.

Lee shifted slightly. “Sorry, (Y/N). I need Fred's help with something.”

“Right. Of course,” you mumbled. Before you could blink, they were gone. Leaving you there in a daze.



George shrank back as he saw you striding towards him.

“What's wrong with your brother? Is he sick? Sleep-deprived? He can't just start flirting with me like that out of nowhere--!”

“It's a potion! It was supposed to go to Ron--!”

“A potion? I should have known...”

“He was flirting with you?”

“What does it matter? If he's under a potion's spell--”

“No, (Y/N). The potion was just supposed to reveal true intentions. We were going to give it to Ron and make him admit he's been letting Scabbers into our room at night...if I knew he'd start flirting with you, I would have given it to him months ago!”

“You...what?”

“(Y/N).” You turned around to see Fred standing there with his hands shoved in his pockets. “I wanted to apologize for--”

“George told me everything already. I'm guessing the potion wore off?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. And if I did--”

Without waiting for him to finish, you grabbed his shoulders and kissed him. He was caught off guard, but eagerly returned the kiss.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Fred,” you murmured when you pulled away. “Potion's spell or not, I feel the same way about you.”

He smirked. “So....you want to finish that essay?”

“Only if we pick up right where we left off.”

“Deal.” He grabbed your hand and led the way back to the library.

George rolled his eyes. “Finally...”