Author: Sazmuffin
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Title: Red Headband
Rating: PG-13
Ship: Fred/Harry
Summary: Harry's always wearing that red headband.
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Harry's always wearing that red headband. I wonder why he does. He's never had any preference to anything red as far as I know, and I highly doubt Harry is in close proximity with hair accessories on a regular basis. "Bugger," Harry thrust his bangs out of his eyes with an annoying jerk of his neck, which made him sway on his broomstick.
Actually, I lied. Harry has shown preference to things that are red. He chose my brother. He chose Fred. Harry leaned down, wrapping an arm around Fred's shoulders and using the other to ruffle his fire-engine red hair.
Fred hates it, for reasons unknown to me. I can't tell you of a time where I didn't see Fred rip it from my best mate's head and ask why he wears it. Fred's always been the impatient type, which is why he was drawn to Harry. Since the war, he was very level headed, treading carefully and thinking before he opened his mouth. There was never a step I saw him take that wasn't taken with confidence, without his head held high and his shoulders moving in sync with his strides. "Yes, Rita, I'll confirm that I'm dating my best mate's brother, Fred Weasley. But no, anything that goes on in the privacy of my own home is one thing only the roaches will know."
Harry would give a small smile and reply calmly, "Because it keeps my hair out of my eyes, Freddy." My brother would sigh, throw Harry a look that only he could differentiate as apologetic, and thrust the long elastic back into his hands. Harry then would place it back onto his head, and hold his arms out. He had surprised all of us, when he surpassed Fred in height by a head and shoulders. He's just about as tall as me now. Fred fit perfectly in the gap, snuggling up into Harry's broad shoulders. "It's called Twister," laughed Mr. Weasley, as not only Fred and Harry's hands connected under all the painful arches of backs.
The two of them were the textbook definition of a happy couple. Rarely have I ever seen them fight. Only once was there a time when their positions were switched. Harry was fuming over an article in the paper, something he was also so extremely calm about. Fred consoled him dutifully, never leaving his side until his love was in a better mood. "The Minister's a prick, he knows you're right, but he doesn't want to admit he made a mistake. Only an idiot would keep this situation going on as long as it has, and that's what he is. An idiot. Come on, let's go play some quidditch. You love your quidditch."
Harry hated being singled out for being gay, even though he saved the entire wizarding world twice. Sure, our people were a tad bit more accepting than muggles when it came to homosexuality, but that doesn't mean we are absent of all discriminations. It's arseholes like those godforsaken Malfoy's who add alcohol to the fire, the ones that had the nerve to desecrate Hermione's grave only because she was muggleborn. "How dare you, how dare you! Hermione was the most amazing witch to ever grace the land you walked on! You didn't deserve to be within ten feet of her, to be taught by the same teachers as her, you filthy piece of dragon dung." Harry's chest was heaving as he stared into the eyes of Draco and Lucius Malfoy, clenching his fists at his side. Fred gently placed a hand on his shoulder, and led him away from the approaching reporters.
But Harry and Fred found a way to escape from all the heartbreak, all the frustration and humiliation we suffer through every day of our lives. They found sanctuary in each other, tapping into one another's energy and strength when they were running on empty. "Sirius loved you, Harry, he really did. You have every right to feel the way you do. But think about it this way. Do you think if Sirius was here right now, here right this very second, you think he'd want us grieving or out on the town, toasting a few firewhiskeys to him?"
It wasn't an unusual thing to see them canoodling, although they did it discreetly. Harry was never one for open displays of affection, be it with a man or a woman. Sure, he'd hold Fred's hand in public and kiss his cheek in front of us, but it wasn't like my best mate would suddenly jump on my brother with uncontrollable passion and lust. Now Fred, on the other hand, could barely keep his hands off Harry, as far as I could tell. He's done just about everything one can do to their partner in public without getting arrested, whether said partner is consenting or not. "Harrryyyy," Fred sang, as his tongue toyed with the younger man's earlobe. His hands, busy pulling Harry's shirt from his pants, did nothing but make it harder for Harry to refuse.
I guess it had to do with territory, for lack of a better word. When the ultra, super-secret, no-outsiders-allowed bond between Fred and George was broken, Fred took extra care to keep Harry safe. Harry's told me dozens of times that he's been woken up by Fred's nightmarish screaming, envisioning his beloved twin's death over and over again in his mind. I've heard Harry consoling him, whispering reassuring things into his ear. "Love, wake up, wake up. You were having a nightmare. George loved you, his death was a tragedy. I remember when, every year on the exact same day, the two of you played harmless tricks on all the firsties. George has never left you, love. He's always by your side, helping you invent new tricks. He's just doing it in a different way."
Their love is like that pesky little red headband. Strong and sturdy, but flexible and goofy. Fred brings out the fun in Harry, the fun he lost so early in life, the fun he missed so dearly. He was always bringing Harry little trinkets he found, like a broken piece of emblazoned pottery in Harry's favorite color - emerald green. "Is that a new make of broom, or are you just happy to see me?"
Harry brought out what Fred tried so hard to achieve, successful but not stiff, having fun but not slacking off. He gave Fred little incentives, however sexual or pointless they might've been, to keep the older man going, to finish that last little bit of paperwork. "Come on, you and I both know what's in store for you once you finish. Ten bucks says I get up to our room without a shirt before you do."
There was only one thing that could've made the two of them even closer. "Is that new?" Joanna, one of Harry's coworkers, asked him one day. She pointed to the gold band that now adorned his left ring finger. "Yeah, yeah it is."