Author's Note: Trigger Warning for non-con
Fred walked into his room and looked around. To an outsider, it would probably be glaringly obvious, maybe even strange that the room seemed to have a mirror down the middle. Both sides had a single bed with wooden boxes underneath, a chest of drawers behind it with the drawers hanging out, clothes that looked like they were trying to escape from them spread from the drawers and across the floor in almost identical patterns, meeting in the middle.
It wasn't unusual to Fred though. It was comfort, it was home. He plopped down on the bed on the left. The trip home from Hogwarts with his siblings would have been a normal one if it hadn't been for poor Ginny being possessed by Tom Riddle's diary. The very thought of that was like a Dementor, sucking all the happiness out of wherever they were. It was good to finally be home, in a place where the very building seemed to radiate safety. He sighed. It really was good to be home.
He dropped down into the bed on his left, while his identical brother dropped onto the bed on the right. Usually their room is filled with laughter and talking about new pranks, but tonight there was a mutual understanding that neither felt much like talking. In fact, they both rolled over onto their backs and gazed out their windows above their beds.
Not much later, George mumbled "Night, Fred," and before they knew it, both were fast asleep.
It was still dark when the door creaked open.
"Light," Fred hissed, rolling over and assuming it was George coming in from the toilet. The door closed, but before Fred could get back to sleep, a voice whispered, "Petrificus Totalus."
Fred panicked, but no matter how much he tried to wrestle and resist, his body just wouldn't respond. Even though his eyes were open, he could only look up, his eyes as resistant of his wishes as the rest of his body. Laid on his back, in the dark, he could hear his heartbeat echoing through his chest as footsteps approached. They walked up to his bed and removed his covers.
Fred tried to close his eyes, to try and fight, or at least shout "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING?" but he just laid there as his pyjama bottoms were removed, and two soft hands took out his cock that was as stiff as the rest of his body. He could feel himself whimper, but it never made it past his throat. Suddenly he felt heavy, as the intruder climbed on top of him. His body was almost numb, but he was aware of the extra weight and how it squeezed every breath out of him.
His springs squeaked quietly under him for what felt like an eternity. He laid there, reciting spells in his head, chanting them, praying for this to be over. Suddenly, he was aware of the feeling of wet on his cock, and the tingles in his finger tips. He tried to move his fingers as he felt his entire body spasm as he came, just in time for him to grab his attacker. He grabbed their arms, but he was still too weak, his body still rebelling against his wishes from the spell, he managed to scratch their arms as they ran out of his room.
By the time he had regained full control of his limbs, Fred no longer felt like fighting. He just laid there confused and ashamed, wondering why he came if it wasn't something he had wanted. Tears streamed down his face as he rolled over and looked at George who was still sound asleep. George, who had always been there until now. Maybe he really did want it. If he didn't, George would have helped, Fred reasoned as he rolled over and vowed to himself to never tell a soul.