Fred found himself sitting in the courtyard during a break between classes, staring blankly at a blank piece of parchment meant for a Charms essay. The crisp November air nipped at his cheeks, but he hardly noticed. His quill twirled absently between his fingers as his mind wandered back to the chaos of the Great Hall only a few days ago.
The initial excitement surrounding the Triwizard Champion selection had come and gone, though the memory of that fateful night lingered. He could still hear the gasps and murmurs of disbelief as Dumbledore pulled the final name from the goblet: Harry Potter. The collective shock of the room was palpable, and Harry's stunned expression had only mirrored the sentiments of everyone present.
Fred had been just as surprised as the rest of Hogwarts, though his feelings were far from simple. Sure, he felt the same awe and confusion that many shared, but envy had crept in, unbidden and unwelcome. He and George had put so much effort into crossing Dumbledore's age line, crafting plans and downing their ill-fated Aging Potion — only to end up as laughingstocks when the spell backfired.
Fred shifted on the bench, the courtyard around him buzzing faintly with the chatter of passing students. The blank parchment on his lap mocked him, but his thoughts were elsewhere, replaying the events of last week.
The Goblet of Fire incident still stung. He and George had spent weeks scheming, perfecting their Aging Potion and meticulously planning their approach. But their triumphant stride into the Great Hall had quickly turned to humiliation when the age line's curse backfired spectacularly. The laughter had been deafening, but what haunted him most wasn't the jeering crowd — it was the four girls standing at the back.
He could still see them: Serena and Lorelei doubling over in laughter, Padma desperately trying to hide her grin. And Cassie — Cassie hadn't been laughing. At the time, he'd barely registered her expression, too mortified to stick around. But now, as the memory looped in his mind, her face came into sharper focus. She'd looked...disappointed.
Of course, this was nothing more than concern for the young men, but his flustered brain had twisted it into something far worse. Disappointment, maybe even annoyance. He cringed at the thought, kicking himself for rushing out without a second glance.
Thinking about Cassie only brought up another memory he'd rather forget — the library.
He remembered how she hadn't been charmed by his usual banter, meeting his quips with a dry sarcasm that stung more than he'd expected. Usually, he could get a laugh or at least a smile, but with her, he felt like he was falling flat.
Did she think he was an idiot? A clown? The thought nagged at him, even as he tried to brush it off. He'd always prided himself on his charm and humor, but with Cassie, it felt like he was trying too hard, and it was all going wrong.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew he liked her — it wasn't a new revelation. What unsettled him was the idea that she might not see him as more than just another guy, fumbling for attention.
For once, Fred wasn't sure if he'd left the right impression, and the thought stuck with him, no matter how hard he tried to shrug it off.
A sudden gust of wind stirred the parchment on the table, pulling him back to the present. Fred sighed, dropping the quill and rubbing his temples. Fred wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, staring at the blank parchment in front of him. His quill hovered above the paper, as though the words might appear if he stared hard enough. But no matter how much he willed it, nothing came.
Lately, it seemed like everything had become harder. His usual sharp wit felt dull, his jokes falling flat, his thoughts scattered. Cassie's face kept popping up, unbidden, and no matter how hard he tried to push it away, her disappointed expression lingered. It gnawed at him. The Aging Potion incident, that library encounter, the way he'd fumbled through every conversation — it felt like everything he thought he knew about himself was being questioned.
Frustration began to build in his chest, creeping up on him with a tightness he couldn't shake. The words that usually flowed easily from his mind to the parchment were now elusive, slipping through his fingers like water. Fred leaned back on the bench, exhaling a deep breath, and rubbed his eyes. His grades had been slipping recently, something he would usually shrug off. But today, it felt like one more thing he couldn't get right, one more thing that was out of his control.
A voice broke through his thoughts, cutting into the silence. "Oi, you alright, mate?"
Fred looked up to find George walking over, his hands tucked into his pockets and a knowing look on his face. He must have spotted Fred's sour mood from across the courtyard.
Fred sighed and forced a smile. "Yeah, just...school stuff. Nothing serious."
George raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Yeah? 'Cause you've been staring at that parchment since last night. That your new favorite hobby or something?"
Fred half-smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Funny, that's what it feels like. Just trying to get these essays right."
"Mate," George snorted, "It's just a bit of fun. You know no one actually cares about those essays, right? It's not like we're genuinely getting graded on them."
Fred could feel the tension building in his chest. Normally, George's lightheartedness would have eased his frustration, but today, it only made it worse. "Yeah, well," Fred muttered, his tone more curt than he intended, "Not everyone's got the luxury of not caring."
George blinked at him, taken aback. The rare sharpness in Fred's voice was enough to make him pause. "Alright," he said after a beat, his tone more careful, "Wasn't trying to wind you up, Fred."
Fred clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe. "Sorry," he muttered, his irritation flashing for a moment before he buried it. "Just — just a lot going on, you know?"
George didn't push it. He glanced at Fred's parchment, which remained as blank as when he'd first sat down. With a sigh, George plopped down beside him. "Want me to write your essay for you?" he teased, though there was no real malice in it.
Fred shook his head. "Nah, I've got it. Just...not today, I guess."
George tossed a half-hearted joke Fred's way, but it didn't have its usual effect. Fred was too distracted, his thoughts too muddled, to respond in kind. George didn't press further, though Fred could feel the weight of his brother's concerned gaze.
For the first time in ages, Fred felt completely out of sync with himself. Everything that usually came easily — his humor, his charm, his effortless confidence — felt like it was slipping through his fingers. The more he tried to grab hold of it, the faster it seemed to fade.
He spent the next couple of days wandering through classes in a daze, each one dragging on longer than the last. He barely heard a word of what was being taught. At times, he found himself staring out of the window, lost in thought, the words on his parchment swimming before him as if they were written in some foreign language. He couldn't focus, couldn't find his rhythm.
So, after a few days of struggling to get back into the swing of things, Fred found himself walking by the lake, the cold air biting at his cheeks as he tried to shake off the fog. It was one of those rare moments where the chaos of school and the pressure of his own thoughts faded into the background.
As he walked, his eyes scanned the lake, the surface a mirror reflecting the pale blue sky, when something caught his attention.
Cassie.
She was sitting on a bench near the water, her posture still and relaxed as she stared out at the horizon. She looked...distant, like she was lost in thought, and Fred could feel the pull of the moment. He hadn't had a proper conversation with her since the library incident, and he felt like he needed to redeem himself after the way things had gone then.
He hesitated for a moment, his feet almost rooted to the spot. His stomach did that weird flip again — the same one he'd felt when he tried to talk to her in the library, and the same one that made him second-guess everything he'd been doing since. He could always walk up, be his usual charming self, crack a joke and ease into a conversation. Easy, right?
But no. Something told him it wouldn't be that simple.
Fred pushed the thought aside, taking a deep breath, and made his way toward her.
Just as he was a few feet away, however, someone else appeared out of nowhere. A Durmstrang boy stepped up to the bench beside Cassie, his strides long and confident, his posture relaxed. Fred's steps faltered as he watched the newcomer settle beside her with an easy grin, clearly settling into a comfortable conversation.
Fred's stomach twisted in an odd way, a feeling that wasn't quite anger but certainly wasn't pleasant. He slowed his pace, hovering just out of earshot. The guy was smooth, chatting with Cassie like they'd known each other for years, and Fred couldn't help but notice how naturally she responded to him. Her posture, still guarded but softer than usual, her lips curling slightly at whatever he said.
Fred's jaw tightened, though he couldn't quite place why it bothered him so much. It wasn't like he had a claim on her, and yet, the jealousy that prickled at his chest was undeniable. This stranger, whoever he was, seemed to know exactly how to draw her out, effortlessly charming her in a way Fred never could.
He was used to being the one who charmed everyone, used to being able to make people laugh, make them feel comfortable around him. But with Cassie, it was different. She didn't react to him the same way. No matter how many jokes he cracked, how much he tried to impress her, it was like she wasn't fazed.
Fred shifted uncomfortably, his gaze locked on the pair. His usual confidence faltered as he watched Cassie smile — was that a real smile? — at whatever the guy had said.
A sudden, sharp pang of frustration rose up inside him. Why was this bothering him so much? It wasn't as if he had a right to feel this way. He barely knew her, for Merlin's sake. Still, the feeling lingered, gnawing at him as he stood frozen, watching them from a distance.
When the guy laughed — his voice loud and warm, completely at ease — Fred knew he couldn't stand there any longer. He had to get out of there before this turned into something ridiculous.
He turned sharply on his heel, his heart pounding, and headed back in the direction of the castle, the scene by the lake still burning in his mind.
Fred's mind was still reeling from the encounter by the lake, and he couldn't shake the feeling of frustration gnawing at him. He had hoped the fresh air and a bit of space would clear his head, but instead, it only seemed to amplify his thoughts. He couldn't stop thinking about Cassie, about the way she'd seemed so effortless with that Durmstrang bloke, and how he'd just stood there, helpless and annoyed with himself.
His steps were quick and purposeful as he made his way back toward the castle, the afternoon fading into evening. Maybe if he could just get back to his usual routine—something, anything to get his mind off the mess he'd made of things.
As Fred approached the library, his thoughts were so tangled with everything that had happened earlier by the lake that he didn't see Cassie until he nearly bumped into her in the corridor.
"Whoa, sorry!" Fred blurted, his arms instinctively reaching out to steady her. A few books slipped from her hands and scattered across the stone floor, and he dropped to his knees to help gather them up, cursing himself for not paying more attention.
"No problem," Cassie replied, her voice light and calm, as though it were no big deal.
Fred couldn't help but feel a bit flustered. It seemed all he knew how to do these days was make a fool of himself. He quickly handed her the last book, offering a joke in an attempt to break the tension. "You know, I've never seen anyone get so close to the library without actually going in. Are you just here for the books' company?"
Cassie gave a small, amused smile, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes but was still enough to make his heart race. "I like to let my imagination wander," she said, her gaze flickering for a moment toward the pile of books in her hands. "Sometimes, that's more interesting than reading them."
For a fleeting moment, Fred felt a glimmer of connection, as though they were on the same wavelength. But it was gone just as quickly as it had come, and Cassie was already turning away, the conversation over as soon as it began.
"See you around, Fred," she said, her voice soft and casual, like it was no big deal.
Fred stood there, frozen for a second, watching her walk off. He couldn't help but feel a wave of frustration mixed with longing. What was it about her that kept him so on edge? Why did it feel like every interaction with her left him wanting more, yet never quite enough?
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, still feeling that odd sense of disconnection between them. Was it just him, or did she not seem to notice how much he was trying?
Fred returned to the common room later that evening, feeling more wound up than he cared to admit. The usual noise and chaos of the room didn't help, only making him feel more out of place. He plopped down onto the sofa, rubbing his face in frustration. George, ever the oblivious optimist, tossed him a Chocolate Frog with a grin.
"Here, mate. You look like you need one of these."
Fred barely reacted, the chocolate frog sitting forgotten in his hand as his thoughts wandered back to the lake, to the library corridor, and to Cassie. His irritation was simmering just beneath the surface, a tension that didn't seem to want to let go.
Later that night, in the quiet of his bed, Fred stared up at the canopy above him, his mind replaying the events of the day. He wasn't stupid; he knew he was in over his head. Cassie Valencourt had worked her way into his thoughts without him even realizing it, and now, he had no idea how to handle it. The usual easy confidence he prided himself on had deserted him when it came to her, and he was left feeling like a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.
He sighed into the pillow, the frustration and uncertainty settling in for the night. Cassie was firmly rooted in his mind now, and he couldn't quite figure out how to get her out.