Fred trudged down the corridor, feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on him. His mind was numb, blank, as though his thoughts had been replaced with a buzzing static. The golden envelope with the terrible news was still clutched in his hand, the words Adelina Lilith Malfoy repeating in his head, each syllable like a punch to the gut.

He was so lost in his thoughts, in the chaos of everything that had just happened, that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him at first. The voice calling out to him cut through his fog of confusion, a sharp "Oi! Weasley! Slow down."

Fred turned instinctively, his heart sinking further when he saw her.

Addie Malfoy was walking briskly toward him, her long blonde hair loose around her shoulders, framing her face like a curtain. Her blue eyes were red, puffy, as though she had been crying—something Fred never thought he would see on her face. She stopped in front of him, her gaze locking with his for a brief moment. There was a strange, unspoken understanding between them in that moment, a shared weight, a sense of knowing that this wasn't just some mistake. This was real.

Addie groaned, and without another word, she slid down the wall, sinking to the floor in an almost defeated way. She leaned back against the stone, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before looking at him again.

"So..." Her voice was softer than Fred had ever heard it. "How do you think we're going to do this?"

Fred didn't respond right away, his throat tight, his chest heavy with thoughts he couldn't put into words. He could feel her eyes on him, waiting, but he didn't know what to say. How could he explain how everything felt like it was falling apart? How could he put into words the fury and confusion that surged through him? So, instead of answering, he just sat beside her, the two of them silent in the corridor, the only sound the distant echoes of students and their footsteps.

The silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable, until Addie broke it, her voice quiet but with an edge of vulnerability Fred wasn't used to hearing from her. "I don't know how I'm going to tell my parents," she admitted, her gaze fixed on the floor.

Fred glanced over at her, his mind still spinning. This was Addie, the girl who'd never shown a crack in her cold, Slytherin exterior. She'd always been so sure of herself, so confident in her place in the world. But now? Now, she seemed as lost as he felt.

He cracked a half-hearted smile, trying to make light of the situation, though the bitter irony gnawed at him. "Well, they're not exactly going to be thrilled about it being me," he muttered, trying to inject some humor into the moment.

For a brief second, she gave him the faintest chuckle, a sound so soft that it felt almost foreign. It was strange, hearing her laugh, as though the weight of the world was momentarily lifted from her shoulders.

But then, just as quickly as it came, the humor vanished, replaced by that familiar, icy mask she always wore. Addie stood up, brushing herself off, her expression shifting back to its usual coolness.

"This doesn't change anything," she said, her voice resolute, eyes narrowing slightly. "It doesn't change how I feel about you or your family. And it definitely won't change how I treat you on the Quidditch pitch."

Fred didn't answer. What was there to say? They both knew the rivalry between their teams would be just as fierce as it had always been. Nothing would change, not that.

Addie pushed herself off the floor, her movements sharp and determined. She started walking toward the staircase that led down to the Slytherin dungeons, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. Fred stayed where he was, still sitting, his eyes following her.

She paused just before descending the stairs, turning her head to look back at him. There was something different in her gaze now, something that almost seemed... softer. Her voice, when it came, was quieter, almost as if she were unsure of the words herself.

"Goodnight, Fred."

It was the first time she had ever used his first name. Not "Weasley," not a cold dismissal or a sneer. Fred.

The sound of his name, from her mouth, sent an unexpected jolt through him. He watched her for a long moment as she disappeared down the stairs, the soft swish of her robes the only sound in the otherwise empty corridor.

Fred remained seated for a long time after she was gone, the stillness of the hallway pressing in on him. His mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—confusion, anger, bitterness, and... something else. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He had always hated the thought of being paired with her, but now? Now, the reality was settling in, and it felt like a weight on his chest, suffocating him.

Addie Malfoy.

The words circled in his mind again, and for the millionth time since he had read the letter, he found himself wondering how on earth they were supposed to do this.

The morning after the letters had arrived, Fred felt as though the weight of the world had settled onto his shoulders. He couldn't focus on anything—his breakfast, his classes, even the occasional conversation that tried to pull him into the present moment. His thoughts were trapped, swirling back to that letter, to the name Adelina Lilith Malfoy that was now forever tied to his fate.

Sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, Fred couldn't ignore the way everyone was looking at him. The pity in their eyes was unmistakable. Even Lee, who usually had a mischievous glint in his eye, looked uneasy as he glanced over at Fred. Alicia and George exchanged awkward glances, trying to act normal, but Fred could see the discomfort in their faces. Even Angelina, who had always been his rock, was sitting next to George, their posture stiff and distant. She was trying to act natural, but the tension between them was palpable. Fred hated that he couldn't make it better, that the awkwardness was hanging in the air like an unspoken elephant in the room.

He pushed his food around on his plate, the uneaten lunch sitting untouched in front of him. It was all just a blur—his mind too filled with thoughts of her.

And then it happened.

Lucius Malfoy's voice boomed through the room like a clap of thunder, cutting through the murmur of conversation and silencing everyone around him. It wasn't a conversation. It wasn't a greeting. It was a command.

Fred looked up just in time to see a red envelope shoot from the Slytherin table, spiraling towards Addie Malfoy. The Howler was unmistakable, the red paper already vibrating with fury.

Addie didn't flinch. In fact, she didn't even look at the letter at first. She just kept eating, her gaze blank and distant. But the moment the Howler ripped itself open, Lucius's voice filled the hall, and Fred could hear the venom in every word.

"Adelina Malfoy!" Lucius's voice sneered, his disdain practically seeping from the words. "You are a disgrace! A worthless failure! To marry a Weasley? A blood-traitor?! Do you have no sense of honor left in you? What good is your education if you can't even uphold the values of our family?"

Fred felt his heart sink as he watched Addie. Her face didn't change. There was no flicker of emotion—no surprise, no anger, no regret. Her expression remained cold, her eyes trained on the Howler as her father's voice tore into her.

It wasn't the first time, Fred realized, with a gut-wrenching sense of understanding. This wasn't the first time she had been subjected to this kind of treatment and language. Her impassive demeanor, the way she stared at the letter like it had no power over her—it was all too familiar. It wasn't shock. It was resignation.

The Howler's voice grew louder, more furious, but the moment the letter ripped itself up, Addie's expression didn't change. She calmly slid off the bench, standing up from the table without a single word. Without a glance at anyone, she turned on her heel and walked towards the door.

Fred's instincts kicked in before he even had time to think. He couldn't just sit there and do nothing—not when it was clear she was hurting. Not when it was clear her family was tearing her apart from the inside out.

Without thinking, Fred stood and followed her, his heart pounding in his chest. He moved quickly, pushing through the crowd of students who were watching the scene unfold.

He caught up with her just as she was about to leave the room. He reached out and grabbed her arm, almost as if by reflex.

For a split second, Fred was stunned by how soft her skin felt under his fingers. He had expected something different—tougher, colder, the kind of touch he associated with Slytherins. But instead, it was warm, delicate, fragile, like she was something that could break at any moment.

Addie jerked her arm away from him with a sharp motion, her gaze hardening instantly. Her eyes locked onto his, but there was no warmth there—only a coldness that made Fred take a step back, despite himself.

"Leave me alone, Weasley," she spat, her voice clipped, and there was a finality to her words that made it clear she wanted him to go away.

Fred opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat. What could he say? What could he do? The hurt he saw in her eyes, the rawness behind her cold mask, left him speechless. He had no idea how to fix this. How to help her.

Without waiting for his response, Addie pulled her arm from his grasp, her movement sharp and hurried. She turned away from him, striding down the corridor toward the stairs leading out of the Great Hall, her green robes billowing behind her.

Fred stood there for a moment, staring after her. The silence in the hall was deafening, but his own heartbeat was the loudest sound in his ears.

As he watched Addie disappear down the corridor, a sinking feeling settled in his stomach. He wasn't sure what he had expected from her—he wasn't sure what he wanted—but whatever it was, it certainly wasn't that. He had never seen her like that before, never imagined she could be so vulnerable.

And yet, in a way, it made sense. After all, what kind of person could withstand that kind of hatred from their own family and come out unscathed? What kind of person could bear that and not crack under the pressure?

Fred let out a long, frustrated sigh, his thoughts swirling in a jumble. He had no idea what to do about her—about this situation, about their arranged marriage, about his feelings—and for the first time in a long while, Fred didn't have an answer to the questions racing through his mind.

Fred's stomach churned as he read the letter detailing the changes. They were being moved. Every seventh-year couple would be given their own space in the castle, and the implications were made clear. The letter's words almost seemed too clinical: "Early conception encouraged." The idea made Fred feel uneasy—nothing about this arrangement felt right. It was supposed to be a forced marriage, and yet this room, this new reality, seemed to come with an air of expectation he wasn't ready for.

He had gone back to the Gryffindor dorms, expecting to find some comfort, some sense of normalcy. But the sight that greeted him stopped him in his tracks. The seventh-year boys' room—his room—was empty. Completely empty.

Lee's things were gone. George's stuff was gone. His own belongings were gone. It was like they had never been there in the first place, like everything familiar had been ripped away. Fred's heart pounded in his chest. It was like a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. How had they already been moved out? Had it been planned for weeks?

His hands clenched into fists as he stared at the vacant space. He didn't have time to think about it. He needed to find the room. The letter had given him directions to a room on the fourth floor, and it was time to face the reality of it all.

He walked with purpose, following the winding corridors of the castle until he reached the painting of a dragon. It seemed oddly fitting, considering everything that had happened. With a deep breath, Fred whispered the password and watched as the painting swung open to reveal a door.

There was no turning back.

Fred hesitated before opening the door. Inside, the room took his breath away, though not for any of the reasons he had expected. The space was massive, much larger than he had anticipated. Large windows overlooked the rolling hills that stretched down to the Quidditch pitch. It was a beautiful view, but it felt distant and cold.

The room was split into two halves: one side was undeniably his, and the other, Addie's. It was... odd. The bed was large, king-sized, with a blue and white quilt covering it, clearly made by Molly Weasley. He couldn't help but imagine his mother fussing over every detail, making sure it was just perfect.

There were two large dressers, two desks facing each other—both covered in their homework and school books. Fred noticed the distinct difference between their study materials. His desk was covered with half-finished prank ideas, parchment filled with scribbles and half-baked plans, while hers was much neater, filled with her school books, each carefully stacked.

What caught Fred's attention most, though, was the wall of bookshelves. Half of them were filled with her novels—crime thrillers, mysteries, and romance novels—while the other half was dedicated to his joke shop supplies: joke books, ingredients for potions and tricks, and an assortment of gadgets he had gathered. His broom was leaning against the corner, as battered and worn as ever, and right next to it was Addie's Firebolt, pristine and perfectly maintained.

There was a red sofa in the center of the room, facing a stone fireplace, with soft pillows and blankets, perfect for lounging or perhaps sharing a quiet conversation. Above the fireplace, there were two posters: one Gryffindor poster and one Slytherin poster. The room was a strange mix of both their worlds. Fred couldn't help but notice his Twisted Sister posters were still up on the walls, but scattered around the room were other Quidditch posters, most of which, he assumed, belonged to Addie.

The most surprising thing by far, though, was the easel in the corner. Fred hadn't expected this at all. There were half-finished paintings—landscapes and abstract pieces that seemed to capture the room in ways Fred didn't fully understand. And then there was a rolling cart filled with paint, brushes, and various supplies.

He stood there for a long time, just staring at it. He had never known Addie to paint. It was the last thing he had imagined she would do. He couldn't quite wrap his head around it. Addie, the cold, aloof Slytherin, was a painter?

His eyes then moved to the stack of mail on one of the desks. As he flicked through it, his gaze caught a letter from home. It was from his mum. He opened it quickly, the familiar handwriting comforting in a way he wasn't prepared for.

"Dear Fred," the letter read, "I know this situation isn't easy, but I want you to remember to be nice to Adelina. She's family now, and family supports each other. But be careful with her, Fred. You never know what's beneath the surface. Keep your wits about you. I hope you two like the quilt."

The last line stuck in his mind as he put the letter back. "Be careful with her."

Fred felt his stomach turn again. He didn't know how to feel about Addie. He didn't know her well enough to understand how to handle this situation. And the thought of what came next—the implied expectations of this forced union—sent a chill through him.

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a deep sigh, his thoughts swirling in confusion. Everything felt wrong, like he was caught in the middle of something he couldn't escape from.

But for now, this was where they were.

Fred stayed rooted to the spot for a while, just absorbing the room, the new reality, and the strange and unsettling feeling that came with it. He couldn't imagine how Addie was feeling about this whole situation. But he didn't have time to think about it anymore.

The silence was overwhelming, and Fred couldn't bring himself to face the emptiness of it all alone.

The door creaked open, and Fred barely registered the sound at first. But then he saw her. Addie. She hesitated in the doorway, uncertainty in her posture as she stepped into the room. Fred hadn't seen her in a few days, not since her father's howler. She hadn't been in classes, and he hadn't seen her around much. His heart sank when he saw the cuts on her face, faint, but still visible. His stomach twisted in knots at the sight of them. He didn't know if they were from her father's outburst, or something else entirely.

She didn't speak, just entered the room, her eyes scanning the space around her as though it were unfamiliar, her face unreadable. Fred couldn't help but notice how short her skirt seemed, how powerful and muscular her legs were. The fact that he was noticing that on Addie Malfoy bothered him, but he pushed it down, trying to focus on her movements.

Addie reached the bed and ran her fingers across the quilt, the soft fabric of it seemingly calming her as she let out a quiet breath. "Did your mum make this?" she asked, her voice small, almost hesitant.

Fred nodded, his voice quieter than usual. "Yeah, she did. She's… very particular about things like this."

Addie nodded, her eyes softening as she stared at the bed. She sank down onto it and stared at him, an awkward silence stretching between them. It was a strange kind of tension—he hadn't really talked to her much in the past few days, and now they were alone in a room together, forced into a situation neither of them had asked for.

"I don't know anything about you," she blurted out suddenly, her voice breaking the stillness. It caught Fred off guard. "I mean, I don't know anything."

Fred blinked, surprised by her honesty. He hadn't expected her to be so upfront about it. "Yeah, I guess I don't know much about you either," he admitted. "Hell, I didn't even know you could paint." He offered a small grin to lighten the mood, but the awkwardness was still there, thick in the air.

Addie shifted on the bed, looking at him with a flicker of curiosity. "Maybe we should play a game or something," she suggested, clearly wanting to find some way to ease the tension. "Get to know each other a bit better?"

Fred raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Sounds better than sitting here in silence."

The two of them found a spot on the floor by the fireplace, sitting cross-legged with their backs to the warmth. Addie flicked her wand, muttering an incantation, and Fred blinked as two steaming mugs of hot chocolate appeared in front of him. He couldn't help but stare. "You can do that?" he asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

She smirked slightly, though there was a touch of softness in her expression. "I like chocolate," she said simply.

Fred grinned. "Guess I should've known. Everyone likes chocolate." He took a sip from his mug, the warmth from the drink calming his nerves just a little.

They fell into a rhythm, asking each other questions, getting to know one another slowly.

"How many siblings do you have?" Addie asked, her eyes fixed on him as she leaned back slightly. "You've got to have at least twenty, right?"

Fred laughed. "Six. Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, Ron, and Ginny."

Addie raised an eyebrow. "Six? Merlin. I'm going to need a pocket guide to keep track of them all."

Fred laughed harder. "Tell me about it. It's chaos."

"And how about you?" he asked. "How did you learn to paint?"

Addie's expression faltered for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "My grandmother taught me," she said quietly. "Before she… passed away."

Fred nodded, trying to sense the weight of her words. He didn't push for more; he wasn't sure she was ready to share everything.

"So, what do you want to do after graduation?" she asked, breaking the silence. "What's your big plan?"

Fred's eyes brightened at the question. "The joke shop, of course. George and I are going to make it work. It's always been the plan."

Addie looked thoughtful. "Sounds good. I'm sure it'll be a hit."

Fred grinned. "We're going to take over the world, one prank at a time."

She chuckled. "I'm sure that's exactly what will destroy the wizarding world."

After a moment, Fred turned the tables. "What's your favorite color?"

Addie raised an eyebrow. "Pink."

Fred blinked, not expecting that answer. "Pink? Really?"

She scowled and swatted his arm. "Don't make fun of it."

He raised his hands in surrender, laughing. "I'm not, I just… didn't expect that."

Addie narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, there's more to me than meets the eye."

Fred smirked. "I'll believe it when I see it."

They continued asking each other questions, the conversation flowing easier now, although Addie still tried to keep her cold exterior in place. Fred could feel the cracks forming, though. She wasn't as tough as she pretended to be.

As the conversation went on, the evening stretched into hours. They learned small details about each other—favorite foods, their thoughts on certain subjects, little quirks they had that no one knew about. Fred was surprised to learn that Addie had a fondness for classical music, but she hated the smell of roses. He also learned she wanted to go to healer's school after graduation and go work tat St. Mungos. The two of them managed to laugh at things they wouldn't normally have found funny, and for a brief moment, Fred forgot about the horrible situation they were in.

Eventually, it grew late, and they both knew it was time to go to bed. But that didn't make things any easier.

They both stood awkwardly, unsure of how to handle the situation. They needed to change, but neither of them seemed to want to break the unspoken barrier that had formed between them. Fred finally broke the silence by pulling off his shirt and slipping on his pajama pants. He didn't miss the way Addie's eyes lingered on his bare chest, and he couldn't help but tease her.

"You're not going to wear that Victorian nightgown to bed, are you?" he asked, smirking.

Addie rolled her eyes, though there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Mind your business, Weasley."

They turned away from each other, both feeling exposed in their own way. When they were finally in bed, both of them lying still with the sheets between them, the silence seemed louder than ever.

Fred hesitated for a moment before breaking it with a quiet chuckle. "Think they were really serious about those early conception attempts?"

Addie swatted his arm, though her eyes betrayed the faintest hint of a smile. "Shut up, Fred."

And with that, they both fell into a strange, uncomfortable sleep, each of them still processing the events that had led them to this point.