Typical Monday morning.
The preceding night is always spent at Daphne's.
Fred sits up slowly, trying to create minimal disturbance as he carefully extricates himself from the sheets and her limbs. She looks beautiful.
Peaceful and innocent in her sleep; so unlike how she is when Fred has her desperate and writhing under him.
His intention now is to flee, before she grows too cosy with being nestled against him. He doesn't want to hurt anyone. He isn't an inherently bad person.
He is thoughtful,these timesnotwithstanding.
That's why he is picking up his clothes that are strewn around the floor and pulling them on at top speed. He is out of her house and disapparating within a few moments.
When he apparates back at some place, it isn't their little apartment above their little dream of a shop.
It's at the Burrow, currently heavily guarded by every known protective shields and spells.
For the time's finally here, now. The time when every last shop has been shut and people have retreated into hideouts.
He has to say 'Fredrick Gideon Weasley' to the gate, and answer a new personal question that it asks him, before it opens to him.
He enters the kitchen from the back door. The old, worn out doormat still says 'Welcome', the kitchen still smells familiar and comforting...
But the person sitting at the table, eyeing him steadily, quietly, seems far from 'welcoming'.
Fred avoids looking at even the vicinity around him. It's a mask of complete coldness he has on as he proceeds to walk in toward the passage leading to the staircase.
Their mum enters at that moment. She smiles wanly at him. "Fred.."
"Hey."
"When did you-"
"Just now." Fred cuts in, and their mum nods.
"Ah, well." she gets that look on her face, that hesitant-yet-businesslike look that means that she's about to tell him off for something 'gently'. "Fred, dear, I know you like that shop girl-"
"Her name's Daphne."
"Yes. Daphne. I know you like her – it's a shame you hadn't met her before – but..." her face softens, and she gets that worried, overly protective expression. "Try to stay here more. You know how dangerous it is out there, and to risk yourself for some girl-"
"She's not some girl." Fred cuts in again, curtly.
Their mum opens her mouth in some desperate retort, before her expression clouds over.
Like mother, like son.
She isn't a woman known for her patience or calm temperament. She's fiery and snappish. Always has been. Not even dark wizards' death threats hanging over everyone's heads would make her remain tender on them for too long.
"Do as you wish." she mutters as she brushes past him to clatter about with some dishes. "I'm sick of constantly worrying over you. Go walk into those catchers or whatever the hell is out there for all I care." She walks over to the person sat at the table and bends to press a kiss to the top of his head. "Here, dear." she says, setting a plate before him.
Fred rolls his eyes; displaying love for the younger to make the older jealous, as if that would make him listen to her to get her attention. Their mum still thinks of them as her little boys, but it's not just that; that tactic would never work on them, because the dynamics of their relationship is a little different...
Theirs is a bond that feeds off on each other's happiness.
No jealousies.
Unless there's one of them deviating from 'the bond'.
Fred leaves the room without another word.