A/N: I just finished completing my collection of Harry Potter novels House Edition and it fueled my love for Harry Potter again in a long time. So I had to upload this.
I've actually started writing this a few years ago when I first became obsessed with Female Harry Potter/Weasley twin relationship. To this day, this is my favorite ship in the fandom. I usually don't mind which twin Fem Harry is paired up with, but since Fred is already officially shipped with Angelina, I usually go for Fem Harry/George romance.
Then why's this a Fred romance, you ask? Well, the truth is, I plan to write a much longer fanfiction with Fem Harry/George. Originally this was also going to be another George romance, but since I already have it under work, I thought, why not go with Fred this time?
(This is based on the film adaptation and NOT the original novel. It has been very long since I last read the books, but I wanted to write this anyway, so I based it off the film version.)
He was not sure when it first began. All he knew was that he wanted her and he wanted her badly. Every part of her was so captivating: her usual shy gestures, the sheepish smile that shone so brightly along with her deep emerald eyes, the fierce passion on the quidditch field, and even the hardened darkness that loomed over her being. Every time she walked with her long black hair waving so subtly like silk, he found himself hardly taking his eyes off her. Or rather, he often did not bother to take his eyes off her.
"Brother mine, you are drooling again."
George did not even try a bit to hide the amusement in his voice. He eyed his twin with a snigger. Fred broke out of his trance and quickly averted his eyes, trying to hide his flushing cheeks and embarrassment.
Fred did not know for sure when he started to really notice Heather. Just when had she grown up and become so beautiful? Fred could still remember how lost he was in amazement at the Yule Ball the previous year. Hell, he even regretted asking Angelina out as his date that day. It was most likely right then that he finally realized that he had been looking at his little brother's best friend for a while. And he mentally cursed himself for a while over this specific matter, too.
Just who said he and Heather Potter were nothing more than mere friends?
Oh, yeah. That's right. It was he himself.
And there he was, spending his last year at Hogwarts just thinking how idiotic he was and watching Heather from afar. He and George had been seriously talking about going straight into their joke shop business instead of wasting a good year in school. Of course, their parents (especially their mother) would never approve and they had to come back. Still, there was an upside to it, at least for Fred: he had one more year to be close with Heather. Then again, it didn't mean anything as of yet, for his interest was strictly one-sided. He was doing a splendid job at making progress, too, by distancing himself to only look at her from afar.
Just as he was staring at the very girl walking into the Great Hall at the moment. Well, that is, until his brother decided to interrupt.
"Seriously, mate, just tell her, for Merlin's sake," George mused, his head resting on his left hand as he watched Fred with a smug face. "Don't make me do all the dirty work for you."
Fred glared at him. George mocked him further by pretending to have a heart attack and fell dramatically on the table. Lee sniggered from across the table.
"Ooh, I see there's another basilisk still lurking around the castle, eh George?"
Fred sighed, exasperated, as his friends continued to tease him. He was just about to retort when he changed his mind and straightened his posture. Lee turned around to find Heather approaching them.
"Hello, boys," she said. "Mind if I sit here?"
"Not at all." George sprang upright at her voice and greeted her. He gave a quick side glance toward Fred, stifling a laugh.
Fred ignored him and nonchalantly ― as he could possibly be ― raised his eyebrows as a meaning of acknowledgment. Heather put down her bag on the spot first before taking a seat next to Lee.
"Prefects are on duty, I presume?" Lee asked.
Heather nodded and sighed tiredly as she reached for the food set on the table. The three seniors watched her in silence as she picked up a piece of bread and split it in half.
"Long day?" George offered in an attempt to cheer her up.
Fred watched her silently.
"Terrible, more like," came Heather's answer. "I'd like to say 'the worst', but I have this very bad feeling that there's more to come in the future."
She then held her goblet full of pumpkin juice with her left hand and began to drink it.
Fred noticed something unusual on the back of that hand.
"What's that?" He asked, indicating to her hand with his eyes.
Heather looked at him directly. "What's what?"
Fred tried hard not to be affected ― or more accurately, not to blush ― as he answered, "That thing on your hand."
Heather's eyes widened. She quickly retracted her hand and hid it below the table.
"Oh, it's… nothing," she said. She was trying and obviously failing to brush off the matter.
The Weasley twins shared a look that concluded that it was better to pry.
"If it's nothing, then why are you hiding it?" George asked.
"I'm not hiding it, I just don't want to show it to you," said Heather. She avoided meeting their eyes as she served herself a bowl of soup from the cauldron in the middle of the table.
Lee scoffed. "That is hiding."
Heather looked at him with an annoyed face, although she did not say anything. She simply stuffed her mouth with the bread in her right hand.
Fred was growing concerned at her secretive and defensive behaviour.
"You're not hurting yourself, are you?" George asked. He sounded so light and casual as if he was asking the simplest and the most trivial matter that all three of the others, plus a few other Gryffindors including Ginny, turn to stare at him and Heather.
Heather gaped at him, both shocked and preposterous. Even Fred also looked at him as if he was completely mental.
"What? No, of course not!" Heather sputtered out. She threw George a look full of curse words before she quickly looked around the other Gryffindors that were now staring at her. "No, I am not hurting myself. It's just George babbling nonsense as usual."
"Hey!" George did not forget to cry out indignantly at her comment.
The others eyed the two of them for a brief moment before slowly getting back to their own conversations.
Heather glared at George, gritting his teeth. Yet, George was still so nonchalant as he continued.
"Because clearly, those look like cuts on your hand there. And you're trying to hide it from us."
Heather was clearly panicking, as she could not find a single word to respond despite her desperate effort to hide it. George raised his eyebrows, pressing her for an explanation.
"Well, it's not of your concern," she said defensively. She was almost snarling, too.
Fred was about to argue, but George was faster.
"Suit yourself, mate." He shrugged. "You're officially a liar and a nutter right now. Having that scar around won't help your case. I just assumed having at least some people know the truth would be better for you or we might have to be forced to believe that you are out of your mind as well."
Heather glared at him with a clear message that said, "I hate you". George simply raised his eyebrows in return.
She finally gave in. She leaned toward them and lowered her voice. "It's… Umbridge."
The three of them looked at her in confusion.
"You're saying that Umbridge is cutting your hand open?" Lee asked.
"It's more like she's making me do it myself," said Heather.
"Okay, you're not making much of a sense here," said George.
Heather sighed. She stirred her soup with a spoon, her eyes fixed at the bowl. "She's making me do lines in detention with a quill that uses my blood."
She was trying to make it sound as trivial as she possibly could by eating her food.
The confusion on the three boys' faces turned to disbelief and disgust.
"What?" exclaimed Lee.
Heather sighed once again. "It cuts my hand in my own handwriting as I write."
Fred, George, and Lee all looked at her in horror. Soon, they all looked very ready to actually kill somebody ― most likely a certain stout woman covered in pink in particular. Fred was especially burning with silent fury.
Heather avoided their eyes and pretended to eat her food.
"That woman is mad," Lee muttered.
"When was she not?" George commented dryly through gritted teeth. "We knew it from the very first moment."
Fred quietly looked at Heather.
"Show me," he said. His voice was dangerously low.
Heather seemingly ignored him and continued eating her soup like nothing happened. Or at least she was trying to do so but obviously failing under the sharp gazes of the three seniors. The silence grew heavy and uncomfortable and Heather eventually had to give in. She sighed before reluctantly putting her left hand on the table. She didn't make it easy for them, though, by placing it at the edge of the table and closer to herself away from them. Fred had to reach out and take her hand for a closer look (and to his surprise, she just let him). George and Lee also leaned in. There was no word shared among the four Gryffindors as the boys looked down at a scar covered with fresh red scabs. It clearly read "I must not tell lies".
A moment passed.
"You should do something about it," said Fred quietly yet fiercely. He was fighting back his urge to caress her hand.
Heather shook her head. She let out a shaky breath before she pulled her hand out of his grasp. She covered the scars with her right hand and put them both under the table.
"There's nothing to do," she said. "Even if there were, I don't want to give her the satisfaction by doing anything about it."
"That's just―"
"Well, I have to go now," Heather cut off Fred's argument by getting up from her seat. She picked up her bag and hung it over her shoulder. "I have another nightmare with Umbridge waiting for me. See you later."
Without giving any of them a chance to rebut, she walked away rather quickly from them towards the entrance to the Great Hall. Fred was left with no choice but to star at the back of her retreating figure until she disappeared outside.
And he did not stop looking at her ever since.
Umbridge was a bitch. Strong word, yes, but not strong enough to describe the pompous woman. Not only was she a terrible teacher, she was also strictly a ministry person that only knew power and politics. That was most likely why Fudge was fond of her enough to grant her all the power she requested but never needed.
Her rules sucked. The decrees were ridiculous. And the way she strolled around the castle as if she was the owner of any and all things in Hogwarts was disgusting.
But most of all, Fred hated how she treated Heather.
Constant detentions, unjust accusations, and all the lies. Every time he spotted her strutting around the corridors, he had to fight very hard not to hex her or punch her in the face. And it just got harder and harder by the day. Even having his and his brother's inventions and jokes banned was not this infuriating.
"As much as I would love to appreciate how madly you have fallen for the most controversial girl you could ever think of being infatuated over," George once remarked as he and Fred watched Umbridge triumphantly walk away with her nose held high just after she had made a second-year almost crash into a wall. "I'd also very much like to do put that woman does back in her place."
"I might have a few ideas," replied Fred.
"How fascinating," George retorted. "I might also have a few of my own."
The two of them were on their way back to their dormitory when they passed by the library, from which Heather walked out. George immediately looked at Fred with a snigger, but Fred almost stopped in his tracks. As already mentioned, Fred was keeping a very keen eye on Heather. He had already noticed how she looked more tired every day than she did the day before. He had overheard Hermione prying Heather about the nightmares she was having every night. He had also observed that she was not consuming enough food during meals. Yet, the Heather that he was looking at that moment looked especially worn out. She looked so exhausted and hollow that she wasn't that discernable from the ghosts lurking throughout the castle.
Heather didn't seem to notice the two of them as she walked straight forward with her heavy-looking bag. George shared a glance with Fred through which the two of them consented to go talk to her. They almost caught up to her just as she turned around a corner. She went through a door and was about to walk up a staircase when she stopped so abruptly. The twins were just a foot or two behind her. They noticed that she was leaning against the wall, her breaths rather raspy.
Fred did not wait another second before he approached her.
"You alright there, Heather?" he asked. He instinctively placed his hands on her shoulders.
Heather turned her head slightly and looked at him. But she turned away immediately as if to hide her face from his view.
"I'm fine," she said. Her voice was low and hoarse. "I just need a moment, is all."
"You sure that that's all you need?" George asked.
Heather didn't answer. Fred took it as a sign that he should intervene. He held the strap of the bag she had over her shoulder and, before she could protest, pulled it off her. As expected, it was indeed quite weighty. He hung it over his shoulder and began to walk past her.
"You're going to the common room, right?" he said.
Heather tried to reach for her bag.
"Yes, but what are you doing?" she demanded. "Give it back. I can carry it myself."
Fred stopped at a few steps above her.
"Do you want me to carry you all the way there?"
"Or I could do that, too," added George from behind her. "Just accept it, Heather. Believe me, you're doing him a favor, not the other way around."
Heather frowned at George. He smirked and gently grabbed her shoulders, pushing her to walk up the stairs. It made her look like the twins were escorting her with Fred leading the way and George protectively guarding her back.
"If this is your new way of toying with me," Heather grunted, "then just tell me right now so that I can laugh about it and make you stop."
"You wound me," George replied with a mocking tone. "We do love jokes, but we also know when to be serious and genuine. You look half-dead, you know that?"
"Well, thank you for being subtle about it," deadpanned Heather.
"Always the best quality," said George dramatically. That was before he turned serious. "Seriously, though, you look exhausted. You sure you can make it to the quidditch practice tomorrow?"
"I'm fine, George. You don't have to worry about having to play without a seeker. I'm not going to let Gryffindor lose."
"That's not the point here," Fred said, turning around to look at Heather. "It's about your health, your own good. You look like you can just drop dead right here at the moment."
"And even if you can't play, we still have others who can be a seeker. Don't you worry about that, dear," chimed in George.
"How many times do I have to tell you that I am fine?" Heather sounded exasperated. "Honestly, you two should stop worrying so much. And stop trying to take away one of the very few things that are keeping me sane right now. I'll be fine."
At that point, they had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Fred told her the password. When it opened, he gestured at Heather to enter first. She glanced at him but complied without any other word.
Not a lot of students were occupying the common room. Among the few that were were Hermione and Ron, who approached Heather the moment they saw her.
"There you are," said Hermione. "I've been looking for you."
Fred quietly put Heather's bag on the nearest sofa.
"Thanks, Fred," Heather softly said as she walked over to it.
Before Fred could say anything, George placed a hand on his shoulder and sniggered.
"Anytime, Heather." He glimpsed at Fred. "Anytime."
Fred ignored him completely.
"Just take care of yourself, will you?" he told Heather.
"I take care of myself just fine," Heather said as she pulled a few books out of her bag. She didn't give the twins a chance to respond by turning around at Hermione. "Have you started on the History of Magic essay?"
Just as Heather walked over to the table that Ron and Hermione were sitting at, George put his arm around his twin and turned themselves away from the three younger Gryffindors.
"Well done, mate," he whispered, "That's the closes you ever got to a 'progress'."
"Sod off," Fred snarled at him.
"Now, now, don't be so grouchy, mate." George was clearly enjoying the situation. "I'm trying to help you, here. There might be a chance for you before we get out of this place."
George wiggled his eyebrows toward something behind their backs ― or rather, someone.
"If this is about me teaching others again, Hermione," said Heather. There was a soft thud as she put down the books on the table. "I already told you. No. It's― it's just mad. I already told you. I'm not a teacher."
"But Heather," Hermione began. Yet, she did not get a chance to finish.
"If you're so adamant about it, then why don't you do it yourself? You'd be a much better teacher than I ever will, anyway. You're the best student in our year."
"But I don't have your experience. I'm not the one that faced You-Know-Who in our first year. I'm not the one that killed the basilisk. I didn't conjure a Patronus to fend off Dementors. I wasn't there when You-Know-Who returned."
"Alright, that's enough―"
"Only you can do this, Heather. It has to be you."
Silence fell in the common room. Every one of the few students there was looking at Heather and Hermione. Fred caught Seamus Finnigan shaking his head and getting off his seat to go up into the dormitory. Heather seemed highly uncomfortable.
"I agree, Heather," Ron chimed in. "You're the best we've got."
Heather shook her head.
"It's― it's just mad. I mean, who would ever want to be taught by me, anyway? I'm a nutter right now."
"I would."
Everyone's eyes now fell on Fred. But none of the others' gaze affected him, for there was only one person he was conscious of. Heather looked at him with wide eyes. She bit her lips uneasily. And she was… blushing?
Fred ignored the large grin that his twin was giving him from beside.
"Whatever the rumors say doesn't matter. You are a great witch, Heather," he said. "And I know that you are not crazy."
"Don't forget about me," said George. "I would also love to get lessons from you, Heather."
Heather kept biting her lips before pursing them tightly. She turned her head down as if she could not take any more of it. Then she hastily picked up her books and bag again before walking up the stairs to her dormitory. Ron took a step forward after her as if to stop her, but stopped himself and let her go.
Even after she had disappeared, the common room was still silent. That was until Hermione turned around and looked at those left there.
"If you'd like to learn something useful for a change," she said, "come meet us at Hog's Head in Hogsmeade this weekend."
She then turned around and followed Heather up the stairs. Only after then did the students return to whatever they were doing.
Fred looked at George's smug face.
"You knew about this?" he demanded.
George smirked.
"Unlike you, brother, I actually paid attention when our dear Miss Prefect asked us if we'd like to learn from the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher ever."
"Us? What was I doing then?"
"Oh, I don't know." George shrugged. "You were probably too busy looking at your crush."
"Crush? Fred has a crush?" Ron asked, showing a very interested-looking smirk.
"None of your business, nosy," said Fred. He passed by him and walked straight up the stairs to his year's boy's room. He may or may not have heard the conversation behind his back.
"Fred has a crush?"
"Oh boy, does he now."
If Heather Potter was gathering students to tutor, Fred was going to be one of the first ones to sign up, of course. He was going to be there on the first day of the meeting, in the dirty little pub in the far corner of Hogsmeade.
"Are you really going to sign up for it?"
"Dunno, I gotta hear what she has to say first."
"Do you think she'll talk about what happened with Diggory?"
"Do you believe what they say about her? All those stories?"
"Do you? I mean, where's the proof?"
Fred overheard some of the other students talking among themselves on his way to the pub with his friends. He fought the urge to roll his eyes and yell at them that Heather Potter was indeed a hero that had done many things throughout her years at Hogwarts.
"Easy, mate," said Lee. Fred knew that he was already detecting his displeasure. "You know what they say about her. And people always like to believe rumors that question someone else's achievements."
Of course, Fred had no intention to make a fuss over it. He didn't want to make a scene and have the entire meeting discovered by the toadswoman.
When they arrived at their destination, several students were already inside along with Heather, Ron, and Hermione were there. Fred and George found themselves seats in the front row, making them stand out even more with their tall figures. Once they did, however, Heather seemed to be constantly avoiding looking at them for some reason.
The meeting officially began when there were about thirty people in the room.
Hermione stood up awkwardly, looked around at the students, and began to speak.
"Hi," she said. Everyone's eyes were on here. "So you all know why we're here. We need a teacher. A proper teacher. One who's had really experienced defending themselves against the Dark Arts."
"Why?" Zacharias Smith asked in a snarky manner.
"Why?" repeated Ron. "Because You-Know-Who's back, you tosspot."
"So she says." Zacharias seemed to think that he was so smart.
Fred wanted to slap his mouth shut.
"So Dumbledore says," replied Hermione.
"So Dumbledore says because she says," said Zacharias. "The point is, where's the proof?"
Then Michael Corner decided to join him.
"If Potter could tell us more about how Diggory got killed."
Fred was about to nearly snap at the two of them. Before he even began, however, George kept him down by grabbing his arm.
Heather seemed to have had enough. She stood up, looking straight at Michael.
"I'm not gonna talk about Cedric, so if that's why you're here, you might as well clear out now," she said.
She turned around toward Hermione, getting ready to leave.
"Come on, Hermione. They're only here because they think I'm some freak."
"Is it true you can produce a Patronus Charm?"
Luna Lovegood's calm voice said. Everyone looked at her before all eyes turned toward Heather. Michael seemed especially shocked.
"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "I've seen it."
"Blimey, Heather," Dean Thomas chimed in. "I didn't know you could do that."
"And she killed a basilisk, with the sword in Dumbledore's office," added Neville.
"And I've seen that happen," said Ginny.
"Third year, she fought off about a hundred Dementors at once," Ron said.
"And last year, she really did fight off You-Know-Who in the flesh," concluded Hermione.
"Wait," Heather said. She looked truly uncomfortable from all the comments. "You make it all sound great, saying it like that, but the truth is that most of it was all just luck. I didn't know what I was doing half the time. I always had help. I needed help."
"She's just being modest," said Hermione.
"No, I'm not." Heather nearly snapped. She slowly turned toward the students. "Facing this stuff in real life… it's not like what we do in school. Right now, in school, you can always make a mistake and you can always just try again tomorrow. But out there…."
She paused for a moment.
"When you're second away from― from being murdered…." She looked at Zacharias and Michael. "Or watching a friend die right before your eyes…. You don't have any idea what that's like."
She sounded like she was on the verge of breaking down. She sounded hurt. The way she quietly sat down as if she was retreating to herself made it even worse. It made Fred want to take her out of the room and leave the place.
"You're right, Heather. We don't," said Hermione. She sat down next to her and grabbed her hand. "That is why we need your help. Why we need to have you as our teacher. Because if we're going to have any chance at beating…" she hesitated, "Voldemort, it's going to be you."
"He's really back?" Nigel Wolpert sounded scared.
Heather gave a small nod.
There was a deep silence for a while. Nobody could question her. Nobody could say anything.
"Well then," said Hermione. She pulled out a piece of parchment from where she had prepared it along with a quill and an ink bottle. "For any of you who would like to join us, you can sign your names here."
She then went over to a table in the corner, dipped the quill in the ink, and wrote something on the parchment. Then she held it up in front of everyone.
On top of the page read "Dumbledore's Army", followed by "Hermione Granger".
"Since we're doing this to fight against Voldemort, I thought this name would be adequate," she explained. "But we need to be secretive about this. We don't want Umbridge finding out. So by writing your names here, you are not only a part of this organization but also swearing not to go shouting about it."
No one answered, but it was clear that everyone was in agreement.
Ron got up from his seat and pulled the table Hermione had just used, setting it in front of where he, Heather, and Hermione were sitting. He then took the parchment from Hermione and used the quill to write his own name down. He looked up at Heather from the parchment, who looked back at him. He handed the quill out at her. Heather looked quite reluctant but took the quill and the parchment and wrote her name on it.
"Alright," said Hermione toward the others. "Once you leave your names here, you can leave. We'll contact you later once we have everything settled."
She then sat down in her chair.
Fred was the first one that shot up from his seat. Hermione, Ron, and Heather's eyes laid on him. It was the first time Heather really looked at him since the meeting began. He gave her a reassuring look before he walked up to the table. Heather returned it with a faint smile but soon turned her eyes away downward. Fred did not hesitate for even one moment in writing his name down right below "Heather Potter".
Everyone formed a line behind him from then. Right after Fred was George, followed by Ginny, Neville, the Patil twins, and so on. By the time everyone had signed their names and left the pub, the only ones remaining there were Heather, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Ginny, George, and Fred.
Hermione folded the parchment carefully and put it in the pocket of her jacket. She didn't say much until they all left the pub and made their way back to the castle.
"First we need to find a place to have our meetings and practice. Where Umbridge won't find out," she said as she led the group.
"Maybe the Shrieking Shack?" Ginny offered.
Heather shook her head. "It's too small."
"Forbidden Forest?" said Hermione.
"Not bloody likely," said Ron. "It's too open."
"What happens if Umbridge does find out?" Ginny asked. Unlike her words, she didn't seem scared or intimidated by the thought.
"Who cares?" replied Hermione immediately, attracting everyone's attention at once. "I mean, it's sort of exciting, isn't it? Breaking the rules?"
She genuinely meant it. It rightfully earned a surprised smirk from everyone ― even from Heather as well.
"Who are you and what have you done to Hermione Granger?" Ron retorted.
Hermione simply smiled.
"Anyway, we know one more positive thing that came from today," she said.
Heather gave her a questioning look. "What's that?"
Hermione turned her head and looked toward the back of the group, specifically where Fred and George were following in the tail. For some reason, Fred was sure that she was smirking at him. It was only for a short moment, though, for she turned her head forward again.
"Someone," she said, "couldn't take his eyes off you now, could he?"
Heather looked at her strangely as if she had no idea what she was talking about. George, on the other hand, sniggered at Fred. Even Ginny looked back at Fred with a teasing look. Neville looked confused at first until he looked from Ginny to Fred, which was when realization dawned on him and his eyes widened. Ron frowned as he also looked behind him, but his gaze went beyond Fred as if he was looking for someone else.
Fred wished he could apparate out of the site right away.
The meetings and practice sessions repeated regularly in the Room of Requirement on the seventh-floor corridor. Thanks to Neville, Dumbledore's Army now had a room that provided them with sufficient room and materials they needed to practice their magic skills. And the lessons were fun, too. It was nothing like those boring classes that Fred and George used to skip or sleep through. Even though Heather was younger than them, she was truly talented and experienced in her spells. Fred was genuinely enjoying her tutoring as well as the growth in his own skills, and he could see that George was doing so too. And there was some extra fun they could have by pulling jokes on the ever-so-persistent caretaker, Filch, to get him off their tails.
Yet, of course, Fred had one more pleasure in attending the meetings. Heather seemingly grew more confident and comfortable in the role of instructing others. Her voice held more strength and she was genuinely smiling more often. It was like having her back to her old self before all the tragedy of the Triwizard tournament, back when she truly felt home at Hogwarts.
Time flew much faster as the meetings progressed until they nearly reached the Christmas holidays.
"So that's it for today," said Heather after everyone wrapped up their practice of disarming spell. "Now we're not gonna be meeting again until after the holidays."
Students let out a disappointed moan. Heather grinned sheepishly.
"So just keep practicing on your own as best as you can," she continued. "And well done, everyone. Great, great work. All of you."
Everyone began to applaud. Heather grinned and shyly averted her eyes.
"Well done, mate," Ron whispered into her ear.
"Thanks," she replied.
Her eyes moved from her left to right, over the students. Then her gaze stopped when it reached Fred, who was standing near the right end of the group with his twin. Their eyes met and Heather smiled shyly at him before hers moved on again.
"Well, if you want to make a move before Christmas, mate," George whispered to him, "this might be your last chance."
Fred didn't reply as he kept his eyes on Heather, who started giving out holiday wishes to the other students. As much as he was annoyed by the constant teasing of his brother, he knew that he was right. If he were to make anything work with Heather, he probably had to make a move on her. Otherwise, he might as well give up on her completely. While his reasons told him that it probably was indeed better to just keep their relationship as close friends, for confessing his feelings to her might simply ruin everything and anything that he had with her. But his feelings were just not having him let her go. He couldn't bear even imagining seeing her with another boy. And that was very likely to happen, as he had recently noticed a lot of boys, both within Gryffindor and without, checking her out in the corridors.
Fred turned to look at George. George smirked at him and slapped his shoulder lightly.
"I'll wait outside," he said. "Good luck."
Fred scoffed as he watched his twin walk toward the door and join Lee. Lee glanced at Fred and held up his thumb at him with a lopsided grin. Fred rolled his eyes and turned around again. As he did, however, he caught Hermione looking at him and froze. Their eyes met for a moment before Hermione stifled a smile and walked over to Heather.
"Ron and I have to go on a patrol." Fred heard her say. "I'll see you back in the common room."
"Sure," Heather replied.
Hermione threw a quick side-glance at Fred before she told Heather.
"And Heather, just go with your feelings, okay?"
"What?"
Heather turned toward Hermione, who simply walked over to Ron and pulled him out through the door.
"See you later, Heather!" was the only thing she said to her best friend.
Most of the students had already gone out, and there were only a few of them left by the door. Heather confusedly looked around only to meet Fred's eyes. She froze for a moment before she awkwardly smiled at him. Fred tried to calm his beating heart as he also acknowledged her with a raise of his eyebrows. Both of them stood still until Heather walked over to the mirror standing in the corner of the room. Her bag lied at the foot of it and Heather seemingly began to organize its content. Fred took a deep breath and walked over to her.
"Hey, Heather," he said.
Heather stood up and turned to look at him.
"Hi, Fred," she said. "Did you need something?"
"I, uh," Fred stuttered. He didn't know what to say. But he needed to say something. "I― I just― I've been thinking― well, I mean, George and I've been thinking. We could always slip Umbridge some Puking Pastilles into her tea. Or Fever Fudge. You know, they give you massive, pus-filled boils―"
Smooth, Weasley.
Fred stopped himself from talking any more nonsense. He just wanted to punch himself at the moment.
Heather blinked at him.
"Uh," she said, seemingly trying to figure out how to react to it. "That… sounds great."
"No, that's not what I wanted to say," Fred said. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. He let out a long sigh before he looked at her again. "I just wanted to tell you you've done a wonderful job here. You're an amazing teacher, Heather."
"Oh," Heather said. She blushed a little. "Thank you, Fred."
There was a brief pause of silence. It was still awkward but less uncomfortable.
"You alright?" Fred asked quietly.
Heather looked at him as if he was asking something strange.
"Of course I'm alright," she said.
"No, I mean, are you really alright? After all that happened?"
Heather closed her mouth shut. She turned her eyes away from Fred and toward the mirror. Several scraps of articles and photos were attached to the surface of it. Her eyes especially lingered on the photo of Cedric Diggory.
"I…" she said hesitantly, "I… don't really know anymore."
There was a pause. But something told Fred that he should wait for her to continue. Thus, he didn't speak up and gave Heather a moment instead.
She smiled up at him. But her eyes were crying.
"It doesn't hurt anymore," she said. She was faking a cheerful voice as hard as she could, but it was shaking. "At least that's a good sign, isn't it?"
"Heather."
"I'm fine, really," she said. "I've gotten over it all. I can't do anything about what already happened, no matter how hard I want to change everything. What matters is that Voldemort's back. And we have to face him. I have to face him. And for that, I have to be better. That's all."
Fred reached out and grabbed Heather's arms with both hands. He didn't even think of doing it as his instincts moved his muscles.
"You don't have to be so hard on yourself," he said. "You're already doing so great."
Heather chuckled humorlessly as she averted his eyes.
"That's not enough," she said, "because Voldemort, he's so powerful. I could do nothing as I just sat there and watched Cedric get killed with a flick of his wand."
When she looked up at him again, tears were welling in her eyes.
"You know, even as I'm doing this, I don't think it will be enough. It just looks like false hope to me. Be honest with me, Fred. You can't possibly think that I have any chance against him. My experience doesn't mean anything."
"Heather," Fred said firmly. "You're not in this alone. Ron's here. Hermione's here. George, Ginny, Neville― everyone's here for you." He hesitated before he stressed, "I am here for you."
He ducked his head and moistened his lips before he continued.
"Heather, I―" He took a moment of pause. "I've been… watching you lately. And… I have to be honest with you."
Heather looked at him with wide eyes full of tears.
"I'm worried about you," said Fred. "I just can't take my eyes off you because I am worried sick about you. But that's not because you're my friend or because you're my brother's friend."
A drop of tear fell against Heather's face.
Fred cupped her face in his hands. His right thumb was slightly wet from her tear. He leaned in closer until their noses almost brushed against each other. He could feel Heather's short and nervous breaths. He looked into her eyes. Her green eyes were full of uncertainties, disbelief, and… longing.
Something flashed into his mind. For a moment, he couldn't believe what he saw in there.
She was waiting.
She had been waiting for him all along.
He felt something above the two of them. He looked up and found a single sprig of mistletoe blooming toward them.
"Mistletoe," Heather whispered.
Fred looked down at her again. His hands still caressing her face, he slowly approached her. Heather's eyes stayed fixed onto his until they slowly closed. That was the final signal for Fred.
It was time for him to leap. He closed his eyes.
The two pairs of lips softly came into touch. Both of them were hesitant, but they slowly opened themselves for the other. Fred felt two hands slowly stroking upward on his back. They reached his shoulders and clung to him. It was a moment of reassurance for him; that he could now venture further. He cautiously and gently pushed his tongue through, reaching for Heather's. And although uncertainly, she accepted him. Fred could feel the hesitance and fear through her touches. But it didn't matter for him, for he wasn't going to let her go. He was going to be the steady anchor.
They didn't know how long they stayed entangled together. It was probably because Fred thought that he could stay that way forever. Yet, he slowly backed out again when he thought it was probably best to give Heather some room to breathe.
Fred slowly opened his eyes. Heather's eyes also opened and looked into his. Fred gently stroke her cheek.
"I like you," he said quietly as if he was breathing the words into her. "I like you a lot."
A/N: Thank you so much for reading this!
Please feel free to leave kudos and comments.
Although I did plan this to be a one-shot originally, I might extend it a bit if I feel like it (lol)
If you do want to see more, please do let me know in the comments.
I hope you all stay safe and have a great day, wherever you are.
Best, Lisa :)
