This really got my creative juices flowing like a drunk person at a beer festival. I hope anyone that fancies reading it doesn't salivate as much as I did, and enjoys my poor excuse at writing. Anyway, I would like to add a disclaimer to say I do not own any of these characters, I do not own certain lines and events that are all copyrighted to JK Rowling. Any constructive critisism is welcome, as is positive acknowledgement. This part may also seem a little rushed towards the end, I apologise for this, I couldn't find a way to make it more intricate without my brain exploding from the effort. I also add, future installments may not be this long, or they may be longer. For future warning also, this is a canon that goes right up to Deathly Hallows and beyond, and one of my favourite OST pieces has inspired the whole thing. However this is named after another of my favourite songs, and anyone who likes The Misfits (tv programme) may recognise it if they look it up. Erm, anyway... Who knows, who cares, on with part one of Paradise Circus.
The corridor was empty as he hurried along, he could hear Filch behind him panting as he jogged to catch up. Fred had known dumping dung bombs outside Filch's office would possibly aggravate him; however he hadn't been bagging on such a heated pursuit. Clearly someone had been working out since last year, an attempt possibly to transform spindly wrinkled limbs into ones of spectacular muscular prowess.
Fred also suspected the recent petrifying of his cat Mrs Norris was also a cause for the desire of greater physical attributes, having possessed rather little if no magical talent. Filch was privy to many jokes, in which Fred and his twin George desired little more than a good old giggle at his expense.
However at this time, in order to distract themselves from the growing morbidity of the school. The twins had personally taken it upon themselves to play as many jokes as possible to detract attention from the misery of the attacks, instead to the rather more enjoyable screams of Filch being covered in Slime or reeking of dung as the onslaught of pranks pelted him.
The plan had worked marvellously considering the screaming figure that was chasing him, it was intended as a spot of light amusement before the awaited Quiddich match, and rather than contemplate it seriously, his twin had suggested a prank to take the edge off their nerves.
The two of them had split up, as the shrieking man ran as fast as he could after them, Fred had chosen to head towards the library and therefore disappear into territory Filch would never suspect. However he had not counted upon the old man's persistence. Fred was being pursued on this occasion by a worthy opponent. His breath was coming in short gasps, he'd hardly expected the chase to have carried on for so long or he would have hidden behind a suit of armour about, hmm, 10 minutes ago? This plan had obviously come to him too late to act upon, as all the more beefier hunks of metal were two corridors above him.
Coincidently though, the library was fast approaching and Fred breathing heavily dashed into its murky confines and he hoped fervently, sanctuary. He hid behind the stacks covering facial disfigurement and transfiguration, grabbed a book hurriedly and buried his face within its pages, in what he hoped was the picture of innocence and model student behaviour. He stood panting for a few minutes, sweat suddenly seeming to drain from his body from the exertion. Fred almost laughed as he allowed himself to imagine how Filch now looked, his quarry having escaping him, well both quarries.
"He's in here!" Fred heard Filch cry, bursting into the library at last. "I'll have them both for this; the Headmaster won't stand for it."
Filch's rambling was interrupted by the sour tone of Madam Pince rounding upon Filch with clear distain. "How dare you come into this library shouting?" She exclaimed in horror. "Have you no respect?" The scandalised tones of her voice, made Filch flinch, wheezing heavily; her policing mannerisms when in the library were akin to his policing attitude to rules. Both were highly suspicious of and clearly disliked Hogwarts students.
"Madam, I- I did not mean to cause any offence… Rule breakers in the library. I almost had the filthy little beast." Filch took on a simpering tone, which in reverence to his abhorrence of students warmed the cockles of Madam Pince's scaly heart.
"Have no fear Argus, I will find this… student." Madam Pince retorted, and stormed away with a faint blush upon her pale pinched looking cheeks.
Fred's brain fired up with the possibilities of this knowledge however dismissed them quickly as he happily focused on his narrow escape. He must admit, since stealing that wonderful gorgeous Marauders' Map three and a half years ago. He and George had been able to navigate the school that much more independently, yet escapes were still fun as long as Filch was there to chase, curse, and request detentions.
Fred dropped the book loudly, barely missing his own foot as a scream echoed into the library, and without much thought further than that, he ran out of the library following the sound. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably, it couldn't be good news in light of the attacks, especially for the few people who had been petrified by the heir of Slytherin. Fred may have had a penchant for disrupting the school, playing pranks and making people laugh, but he couldn't deny sometimes he felt the need to be noble. Well it wasn't just him, George could be noble also, however today he was not here and so the role fell to Fred.
In the corridor just metres away from the entrance of the library, stood a small girl, Fred didn't recognise her and when he drew nearer discerning a distinct theme of blue and bronze upon her school robes. He assumed that the girl was a Ravenclaw, and approached her.
"What's wrong?" He asked in alarm, trying to figure out why the girl had screamed. Still he looked about him, along the corridor until his gaze fell upon the sight of two girls stood rigidly just by the corner. Horror filled his belly, draining through his body like ice cold water; he had seen the familiar bushy brown hair, haughty posture that stood in front of the tall older Ravenclaw girl; actually come to mention it, she looked familiar as well. Disregarding this nugget of information he grew closer to the two girls, dread clouding his vision as his suspicions were finally confirmed.
Fred's eyes wandered to the face of the younger girl, he crossed his fingers childishly to perhaps somehow prevent it from being her.
It did absolutely nothing.
Stood in front of him was his little brother's best friend Hermione Granger. Shock flooded through him, if anything Fred's main emotion in the forefront of his mind was disbelief; this was a joke right? The look of frozen horror upon her pretty face disagreed with that notion.
For a split second Fred wished desperately that he had the map to see who was closest for help; obviously then he realised he was stood not three metres away from the entrance to the library, like the plonker he is. He debated briefly to scream for help, however this would be bound to bring Peeves, and it would probably be quicker and more painless for him just to do it himself.
Just for that minute though, Fred slowly, and slightly unsure of himself reached out to touch her. She was warm, thank Merlin, she wasn't dead; but yet at the same time rock solid, like she'd been dowsed with a freezing charm. Unable to contain it any longer, tears welled in his eyes, and a thick stream of doubt washed over him. Maybe if he'd have carried on running instead of hiding, the Monster of Slytherin would have gotten him instead. For once in his life Fred found it extremely difficult to find words for the situation he was now placed in, he could not find a single word or sound, let alone begin to describe how distraught he felt.
He hesitated a moment longer, taking one last lingering look upon Hermione's terror stricken features; Fred pressed a few fingers to her terrified expression, noticing that her glassy vacant gaze was upon the mirror clasped tightly in her hand. Odd.
With a reluctant sigh he left her there, broke into a sprint straight back into the library, disregarding the fact that this act was highly likely to get him into trouble.
'Stuff it', Fred though savagely, he and George already had a drawer dedicated to their mischief at Hogwarts, what harm was one more card going to do. Not when Hermione was hurt, petrified into a human statue.
"There's been an attack!" He yelled manically, running pell-mell towards Madam Pince. "Someone get Dumbledore; Hermione Granger and a Ravenclaw girl…"
Again words had escaped Fred, he was almost rendered speechless, and anyone who had been watching would have noticed that Fred as a rule did not shut up or miss an opportunity to make fun of something. Today was different, and seeing her face like that made Fred think that some serious changes were in order about how he treated others. Life was too precious for him to treat people like play things there to be mocked and ridiculed.
However at this moment his attention was drawn to Madam Pince, for once he suspected was the first time in her life that she did not shout, scream or bewitch objects to hit the offending student or person hard on the head.
"You go and fetch Professor McGonagall. I will summon Dumbledore," she snapped waspishly, leaping into action with a flourish that was usually reserved for musketeers.
Fred did not dither, a cold knife had slipped deep into his gut and he momentarily found it hard to breathe. It was all well and good joking that Harry was Slytherin's heir; he and his twin had found it hilarious, parting crowds with a more than pissed of Harry in tow.
"Make way for the heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through…"
However, never had Fred suspected that someone he knew, or cared about for that matter, would ever get attacked.
Fred had proceeded straight to McGonagall's office, taking every short cut he knew in order to aid him in the fastest route he could manage, sprinting really wasn't the word for it. He bumped into countless people, who laughed thinking he was running away from Filch or up to no good. A couple of people yelled to him that the Quiddich pitch was in the opposite direction, and was he scared that they'd lose to Hufflepuff. At last Fred saw her office and barged in, without bothering to even knock upon the door.
"Professor, there's been an attack!" He panted; sweat forming rapidly upon his top lip from the exertion he had just performed. Tears returned to Fred's eyes, which of course he hastily blinked back before she noticed. A Weasley didn't cry, well unless it was a female Weasley… but even then that was unlikely.
"Who?" She asked quickly whilst she waved her wand across her desk so it magically tidied itself. She had her Griffindor scarf draped around her neck loosely to show her support for her house team; clearly she had been doing some last minute marking before coming to the match. "Does Dumbledore know?"
McGonagall hurried to the door to where Fred stood panting. "Hermione Granger, Miss and a Ravenclaw girl." He replied quickly, leading the way back to the library; of course without all the secret passengers. Fed may have been worried, but he wasn't stupid. George would have killed him if he knew he was being this soppy anyway.
Fred wondered how the news would be broke to Harry and Ron after all she was their best friend, even if she did drive them mad on occasion. His heart sank a little further when he remembered all the cutting things Ron had said about Hermione over the past couple of years, saying she was a know it all etc etc; regardless of that Fred also remembered that they were friends and he knew that Ron cared about her even when they were bickering. It reminded him of the time that that Malfoy scumbag had called her a filthy mudblood; Fred recalled he had seen red and lunged at him. Perhaps it wasn't the fact he had called her a mudblood but more the fact that it had been her.
'But that's stupid,' he thought to himself, he and George had never paid much attention to Hermione over the time in which they had known her; she was just bossy, a teacher's pet and took great pride in interfering. For that reason they ignored her mostly, and never had much to say to her.
Yet at the same time, well the feeling had only really come on today; Fred found himself feeling rather over protective and found an increasing urge to protect her from harm had completely overwhelmed him.
They reached the site of the attacks in no time at all, Fred's thoughts having run away with him. Dumbledore was examining the fifth year curly haired Ravenclaw girl whilst Madam Pomfrey had a hand pressed upon Hermione's brow looking closely into her eyes.
"Professor Sprout tells me the Mandrakes are not ready yet, but are growing up as quickly as we can hope for," Dumbledore was saying calmly, but the grave expression upon his face made it quite clear that this was no laughing matter and was to be taken as seriously as possible. He surveyed Fred cautiously, as though expecting him to make a joke about the situation, Fred may well have done if George was here and he didn't feel like ice was being forced down his throat.
"Can I stay with her Professor?" He asked quietly to Professor McGonagall, who looked mildly surprised at this. "I don't want to leave her alone, like this." Fred was looking straight at the solid figure of Hermione as he spoke, longing for that moment to hold her stiff and resilient hand. He imagined it would look small in comparison to his own, small and vulnerable like she was now.
"I, er, don't see how that would be a problem," McGonagall said awkwardly. "There is no doubt that the match will be cancelled now."
Fred grinned ruefully, "Wood, will not be happy about that." But he wasn't going to complain, he was in absolutely no mood to play Quiddich now anyway, he wanted to sit and watch her, protect her even. When they conjured stretchers, Fred gallantly directed Hermione's being extra careful not to bump or jar her; for a moment he smiled as he realised if anyone had been watching him, he would have looked like Percy; like a perfect Prefect.
He followed Professor McGonagall to the Hospital Wing, he felt hollow. It had come as such a shock that he would care so much. Almost, he suspected, as if Fred had learnt many things about himself all at once. These things had been so deeply buried, he may not have known they had existed; the idea that he had these feelings terrified him, intrigued him, and disgusted him simultaneously. Previous to this day, Fred had considered himself reckless, that life was for fun and recreation.
He didn't take school seriously, but that was okay because neither did George. School was one big adventure playground, but instead of plastic balls there were secret passages, tricks to be played and spells to be misused. Even Fred acknowledged that the only subjects he and his twin seemed to do well in were Charms and Transfiguration. Although, saying that he and George hadn't been doing too badly at Defence Against the Dark Arts for the past three years; this year however it was more of a joke.
For instance last lesson he and George had charmed Lockhart's mirror to scream shrilly whenever he walked passed it quoting passages from Gadding with Ghouls, or Year with the Yetti etc. The desired effect had been hilarious, he'd been interrupted no less than 42 times in the first half an hour, and the look of shock on his face each time he'd been monologuing how he'd defeated the Bandon banshee for example, the mirror had let out an ear piercing scream that caused everyone to cover their ears. It wasn't hard to come to the conclusion that the man was a complete and utter wanker; and Fred couldn't for the life of him work out why Mum fancied him. In fact what Lockhart really deserved was having his hair set on fire, or his teeth falling out, not an Order of Merlin First Class. Which when he came to think about it wasn't such a bad idea. He have to talk to George about it later, he was sure if they put their heads together they'd be able to wipe the smug smile off that posh twat's face.
Fred sat next to Hermione's bed, and they were left in complete silence. It was awkward for a moment, he'd never done anything like this before and he wasn't sure what to do; it felt foreign. George had always been able to prompt conversation; he never had problems talking to his brother. Perhaps it was the fact that Hermione was unable to contribute to this one, all of a sudden Fred's usual mischievous mood went undeniably lax. There was no other word for it, Fred was speechless; this seemed to be becoming a common occurrence. Feeling that words or no words he still needed to do something, he reach forward and grabbed her hand, the mirror had fallen from her grip when they had moved her, and clasped it tightly in what he hoped was a reassuring way.
"It'll be okay Hermione, if I know Potter and Ronniekins, they' be hunting down the bastard who did this to you in no time, in fact I'll help them myself." Fred muttered, feeling slightly stupid talking to her, once the words were out loud, she had no idea he was here. Perhaps she would have been alarmed if she'd have known that one of the Weasley twins was sat next to her holding her hand.
'Oh what the hell,' he thought recklessly standing up, he had no place being here and if someone saw him… He swooped down and kissed her pale cheek.
"What do you call a wizard that only casts good spells?" He said loudly, to distract himself from the blush that had crept up his neck. She remained motionless, and he couldn't help but chuckle. "A charming fellow".
Fred walked straight into Professor McGonagall, Ron and Harry as he left; immediately he felt awkward, Harry was stood in his Quiddich robes, like the ones Fred had hanging in the changing room. "What are you doing here?" Ron asked quickly, in his usual blunt manner.
Fred rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think of why he would have been here; he didn't think it was appropriate for Harry and Ron to know it was because he was concerned. "Er, Professor McGonagall asked me to help bring her in on a stretcher, she found me when I was on my way to the pitch." He replied embarrassed, praying McGonagall wouldn't rat him out. She had a curious expression upon her face, obviously taking the pink tinge into account, and said absolutely nothing.
"Thank you, Weasley," she said curtly, and behind the two boys backs she gave him what was undeniably a small and understanding smile. She pushed the door open, and Fred heard Ron's exclaim of horror as he walked away, hunched and mirthless.
He found George in the common room sitting in his Quiddich robes as well; "where were you? Wood was furious when you hadn't turned up." His twin reprimanded, "just as well it was cancelled. Do you know why by the way?"
"Yeah," Fred said hollowly. "Hermione and this Ravenclaw girl, Clearwater I think her name is, attacked."
"Oh," was all George could say before Professor McGonagall came in to make her announcement.
Time passed slowly for Fred, jokes no longer held the same humour as they did before; his thoughts lingered upon the glassy eyed stare of Hermione Granger when he'd found her. It haunted him, and stuck in his mind each and every time he closed his eyes.
"What's wrong with you?" George would ask when out of earshot of Lee, and anyone else. "You haven't so much as cracked a joke in days."
"What wizard hangs out at the beach?" Fred said with a forced smile. "A surfer Druid", the tone was monosyllabic.
George failed to notice this, in light of how awful the joke had been.
"Ginny's been taken to the Chamber of Secrets," Harry whispered to them in the common room, as Ron sort of collapsed into the armchair besides George. The knife plunged further into Fred's gut, breathing became nigh impossible. Not his sister, anything but that.
During the celebrations when Harry Potter (he knew he would) had saved Fred's sister, and Hermione had been restored to full health, was possibly the best night of his life. Full of his old humour he and George had quickly gone to tickle the pear in the corridor next to the main staircase, and brought up as much food, sweets and drinks as they could carry.
Fred watched Hermione leap at Harry crying "you solved it, you solved it!" For one moment Fred found himself wishing that it was him, and for that second that plunging knife of ice had returned. The Fred Weasley he knew had vanished and Fred lamented its departure, knowing that he was staring at a 13 year old girl who barely looked his way, and yearning beyond anything else that he would be the one saving her from now on.
On the journey home, Fred made sure he shared a compartment with the golden trio, ditching Lee, and he would have ditched his brother too, if they weren't attached at the hip obviously. He told as many jokes, played as much exploding snap and produced a Filibuster fireworks show to make the girls gasp; he pretended it was because he was the old Fred, enjoying the attention, and he let George man the operation, for he had eyes for only one person. Hermione gave him an odd look when they were close to King's Cross, he blushed knowing he'd been caught staring and accidently dropped a stack of books on George's head.
"What?" He said in exasperation at his clumsiness. It was only then he became aware of Harry and Ginny's conversation. Percy had a girlfriend, excellent. And just like that, his blunder was covered up, as he pulled the smuggest grin he could. At least teasing Percy would take his mind off the events of the past year, and for that he was eternally grateful to his older brother, more than anyone would ever know.