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“Oh, but you can’t be serious.”
Angelina’s voice is mild and calm, though amusement trails in her tone at the end of the sentence. A small smile tugs at her lips, as she places her coffee mug on the table.
You huff. “But I am! I am thoroughly convinced and you cannot change my mind- unless you have proof!”
“I don’t have proof”, she is quick to answer, “but honey, come on, it’s Fred we are talking about! The Fred that has been passionately in love with you since our sixth year!”
“Yes, that Fred”, you allow yourself a bitter chuckle, “The very attractive Fred who is widely sought out by countless girls and who never misses a chance to flirt with a customer!”
Angelina rolls her eyes. “Cut it out, (Y/N), that sounds like something a schoolgirl would say. You should know better.”
You take a hearty sip of your tea and glance at her a bit haughtily. “Angie, it is you who should know better. You are married to his twin brother after all.”
You watch as she furrows her eyebrows, your words sinking in.
“George would never do something like this”, she finally speaks, her tone low and serious. “Neither would Fred. Yes, they do flirt with customers from time to time and yes, it is very annoying, but you know how they are and why they do it; for the shop. What you are accusing Fred of is just”, she pauses to find the right word, “irrational.”
“Irrational?”, you snap, anger beginning to bubble within you, “Unlike you, I have proof! I have been watching him for quite some time, Angie...he really is cheating on me!”, you stand up from the couch abruptly and begin pacing around the room, exasperated, “And with that damned Louise Abercrombie too!”, you add with a slight tremble in your voice.
“What?”, Angelina gasps, her dark brown eyes lighting up in surprise, “Louise Abercrombie, as in the daughter of Norbert Abercrombie, the broom manufacturer?”
“Yes, that spoiled little rich girl. They first met in one of my premieres”, the trembling in your voice was now more than evident. Ever since you had figured out these two had been seeing each other, the moment of their meeting a year ago had resurfaced from your memories. It kept being replayed and replayed in your mind- mocking you. You should have expected it. You really should have.
Angelina raises a questioning eyebrow and you begin to recount the unfortunate event, ignoring the smothering pain that has clutched at your heart.
The premiere of one of your plays had just finished. Becoming an actress had been your dream ever since you were a little bean, and you had never given up on that dream, even despite your arrogant family’s fervent objections. You had worked hard to earn your place in the Wizarding Theatre and Fred had supported you from the very beginning. Even when your family had denounced you due to your aspiration, he didn’t leave your side, reminding you to be strong. And how you loved him for that.
Exiting your dressing room, you quickly skipped past the eager interviewers and headed towards the lobby, which was full of excited people, as always, drinking champagne and discussing about the play. Chatter and laughter buzzed in your ears, as you spotted Fred’s lanky form and bright red hair from the distance, his eyes searching for you. You gracefully made your way towards him, muttering words of gratitude to people who congratulated you.
Upon seeing you, his features lit up and a smile- as always a little mischievous- painted his lips. Your heart fluttered at his sight; even after almost six- Merlin, six- years of dating him, your heart refused to beat normally when you were with him. Maybe it was because with Fred every day held a surprise, or maybe because you were so in love with him, your heart had forgotten how it felt not to be in love.
He opened his arms and you fell into his embrace, basking in his familiar warmth and scent.
“Love, you were wonderful”, he leaned down to whisper into you ear and you couldn’t help but blush like a silly schoolgirl.
“Oh”, you buried your face in his chest, flattered and thrilled and smiling widely.
“Though I can’t say I liked the ending”, he frowned, “Killing yourself to be with your lover; a bit too extreme, don’t you think?”
You lifted your head to meet his gaze, smiling softly, “That’s the story, Freddie, we couldn’t change it. Besides, they loved each other so much, they couldn’t bear to be apart. I know I would die for you, if I had to.”
His expression darkened suddenly, and you knew that ghastly memories of the war had filled his mind. Both of you had almost died in an explosion at the Battle of Hogwarts, an ugly memory that still haunted you to this day. But you had survived- together. Your love for life- and for each other- had been stronger than death.
“Take it easy, Freddie”, you whispered soothingly, “It’s all over now.”
At your gentle words, the shadow that had covered his eyes was lifted and the smile returned- though a bit melancholic. Cupping his cheek tenderly, you stood on your tippy toes and closed your eyes and Fred, taking the hint, leaned down for the much-awaited kiss.
“Miss (L/N)! I must congratulate you, you were simply superb!”, a shrilly voice sounded from behind you, a reminder that you were not alone. You were still in the crowded lobby, surrounded by everyone who had watched the play. Oh well, it was your duty as one of the performers to greet them all.
You untangled yourself from Fred’s embrace with a contained sigh and turned to face a young beautiful woman. She was sporting a bright colourful gown, her curled blond hair falling elegantly on her exposed shoulders. She was grinning widely, her large eyes bright and full of vitality.
“Miss Abercrombie! I am so glad you enjoyed it!”, you exclaimed warmly and you both shook hands.
“Of course I did, you silly girl!”, she spoke with her signature enthusiasm, “Daddy loved it; he said you were absolutely marvelous!”
“Oh, thank you ever so”, you flushed, unable to find anything else to say. You always felt uncomfortable when you received praise and, in order to diffuse the awkwardness of your pause, you grabbed Fred’s hand and urged him to step forward.
“Fred, may I introduce you to Miss Louise Abercrombie? Her father has not only sponsored today’s play, but he is a very generous donor to our theatre. Really, I don’t know what we would do without his support."
“Oh nonsense, dear girl”, Louise countered, but her gaze was locked with that of Fred’s. They shook hands cordially and then Fred, ever a charmer, raised Louise’s gloved hand to his lips.
“Delighted to meet you, Miss Abercrombie”, he smiled charmingly, after he placed a kiss on her hand.
“Oh so am I”, the woman spoke with the same tone, and suddenly a strange feeling tugged at your heart. It was warm- but not in a good way. You shoved it away with much effort, but a cloud of apprehension had already formed in your mind.
“This is Fred Weasley, my boyfriend”, you said with a timid voice.
“Weasley!”, Louise exclaimed, her inviting gaze still fixed at Fred, “I am pretty certain I have heard your name before!”
“Naturally, for my brother and I happen to own...”
As Fred began to explain that he and George were the owners of the infamous Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, you stood aside and observed them both, an awful thought striking you. As they talked, you realised they looked very good together, both radiant and agreeable. Their conversation moved on, cheerfully, while you remained silent.
And on and on you watched a luminous man talking with a luminous woman, your heart drowning in an odd seething feeling you had never experienced before.
Angelina is silent for a moment, but when she speaks again, you realise she has began to be swayed.
“How are you sure it’s her?”
“They have been exchanging letters. I have seen some- by accident. For one thing, he has not been very discreet about it”, you slump back to the couch and bury your face in your hands, suddenly ashamed of the tears that had welled up in your eyes.
“There are so many little instances, Angie. So many and so insignificant, but once you put all the pieces together, it makes so much sense”, you muffle into your hands, as the tears start to steam down your cheeks.
“Letters? Seriously?”, she questions with obvious shock.
“Yes”, your voice wavers dangerously. A knot has formed in your throat, tight. Remembrance overtakes you once again.
You had read one of their letters completely by accident. It was a sizzling summer afternoon and Fred had been working in the shop- the afternoon hours were always the busiest- while you had been anxiously waiting in your shared apartment for a particularly important letter to arrive. The Wizarding Theatre was planning to set up your favourite play and you had auditioned for the role of the main character a few weeks prior. The letter regarding whether you had gotten the role or not was due to arrive that day and you could not relax for a moment, nervousness having taken over your entire biology.
It would mean so much for you if you could get your hands on that role; that play had first planted the seed of your dream to become an actress. You couldn’t miss this chance.
As you paced around the room, clasping and unclasping your hands nervously, sweat stubbornly sticking to your body, you contemplated leaving the apartment and going to the shop. Fred always found ways to calm you, even his mere presence would surely ease your stress. And you clearly needed relaxation.
No, maybe you should wait a bit more, just a tad more.
When you accidentally knocked over your cup of tea with your clumsy neurotic movements, you decided you should definitely render yourself to your boyfriend before stress managed to eat you alive.
As you fumbled around the living room to find your shoes, you caught a glimpse of a brown pair of wings- and that had been enough. You had sprinted to the window and had proceeded to snatch the envelope from the poor owl, who let out a startled cooing sound. Shredding the envelope and pulling out the letter with shaking hands, you set out to skim through its content, your heat hammering wildly in your chest.
Your eyes had widened and you had stood still. In spite of the scorching heat, you had felt as though cold water had washed you over.
A few agonizing moments later, you had collapsed at a nearby chair, reading and rereading the letter, refusing to believe in your own eyes.
Dearest Fred,
yes, I think it’s best we meet on Friday at the usual place. Be extra careful- Tommy is getting suspicious of me lately and you know we can’t have that. Please don’t forget to bring you-know-what. I am terribly excited to finally use it.
Yours,
Louise
You sat there- thunderstruck, appalled.
No, this couldn’t be. It couldn’t possibly be true. Someone had decided to play a practical joke on you- was it Fred? George perhaps? Or even Ron?
“You guys can come out now”, you had called weakly from your seat to test your theory. No one had answered.
But Fred- no he would never- he wouldn’t ever do such a thing. You two had been together for so long, so long...he would never do such a horrible thing to you. He loved you, he always said he did.
But did he? For the letter was real; it was still there, locked in your tight grasp and in plain sight.
Your world had crumbled then and there.
The other letter had arrived not much later; you had gotten the role. But you weren’t happy. Merlin, how could you be? Nothing could ever be the same- nothing at all.
Your voice trails off pathetically, the knot in your throat too tight to shallow. Your emotions overwhelm you all of a sudden, a tide sweeps them. Burying your face in your hands once again, you do your best to stifle a sob that threatens to emerge, but you ultimately fail.
“Oh honey...”, Angelina scoots closer to you and envelopes you in a warm, mother-like embrace. You cry for a few minutes, sobs heaving in your chest, your heart aching with a terrible pain you can no longer ignore.
For you still love him, even when you know what he does behind your back. And there is nothing to be done. Love is not easy to forget.
“I am so sorry, (Y/N)”, Angelina murmurs with warm sympathy, “I had no idea.”
“O-of course not”, you flounder through your tears, “it’s not your fault. Nor George’s, if that’s what you are thinking.”
“Yes, that’s what I thought, sweetie”, she says with a thoughtful tone and you pull back to look at her. Wiping your tears with the edge of your sleeve, you watch as she narrows her eyes, in deep thought. “I can’t help but think that if George knew, I would too.”
“Maybe he hasn’t told him”, you reply curtly.
“Seriously, (Y/N)? They are bloody twins! And so close to each other they are practically conjoined! You think if one of them was cheating on their partner, the other would not know? It’s impossible!”
“I know Fred very well- better than he knows himself actually”, you retort in mild irritation, “There is no denying he is cheating.”
“And I can read George like an open book”, Angelina insisted, “and, believe me, he is very bad at keeping secrets. When he was proposing, I had a hard time pretending I had been taken by surprise, because I had guessed it weeks before! If something was bothering him, and especially about Fred, I would have fished it out of him already.”
“Salazar”, you grumble, “I am the one that is being cheated on and it is you who is in denial! I told you about the letters! And his so-called business trips!”
“George went along these trips too. You know they want to build a new compartment-”
“Of course, I know”, you interrupted sharply, “I was the first person to know about it... Fred always did confide in me. But there is no trust anymore, Angie. Nor love”, you shrug sadly, struggling to keep a new torrent of tears at bay.
Angelina doesn’t say anything. She only places a sympathetic hand on your shoulder while you sniff, lost in your thoughts. It had been a really hard time for you, ever since you had found out. It had been immensely hard to hide your being upset from Fred, for he knew you as well as you knew him. It had been torture; to pretend you were happy, to love him freely, while your heart was aching, lost in a storm. You had cried yourself to sleep countless times...head and mind and soul drowning in a splitting ache.
And Fred, what a pretender, what a liar. You were a fool not to have left him still. But you didn’t have the courage to do it. And deep down you didn’t really want to.
“And there he goes again”, you break the silence at last, “on a business trip. Just in time to miss my birthday too.”
The day after tomorrow was your birthday. And because Fred cared so much for you, he had arranged to be absent that day. It had been an ugly blow, even if he had assured you could still celebrate together, in spite of being apart. He had made you promise that you would stand over the fireplace at midnight and raise your glass of champagne- or whatever it would be- as though you were having a toast and he would do the same. What a ridiculous thing to do, what a petty situation to be in.
He had given you a small packet too, your gift, but he had also made you swear to open it at midnight.
“And this, love”, he excitedly pulled out a packet from the pocket of his coat, “is your gift.”
“Thank you, Freddie”, you muttered tiredly as he handed it to you. As you set to open it, he placed a hand above yours, thwarting your movements. It was warm and, as always, your traitorous body was overwhelmed by goosebumps at his touch. You looked up at him questioningly, doing your best to conceal your discomfort.
“No, love, not now”, he whispered with a soft smile, “Open it at midnight on your birthday, alright?”
“Okay”, you agreed with no protest, shallowing thickly. You felt tired and heartbroken, and Fred’s merry attitude definitely went a long way towards worsening your blue feelings.
“Promise?”, he inquired, caressing your cheek with his thumb.
“Promise”, you murmured meekly. As if promises meant anything anymore.
“Good. I swear you won’t be disappointed, love”, he winked at you, his eyes shining with great mischievousness and you suddenly felt sick. Why didn’t he leave you already, if he wanted to be with another? You couldn’t go on like this...
He bent down to kiss you but you pulled away, standing up from your seat. A frown clung on his features for a fleeting moment, but it dissolved as you placed a small kiss at the top of his head.
“Work was really tiring today, Fred. I hope you don’t mind if I go to bed now?”, you mumbled, as a splitting headache made its way towards your head.
He hummed in response and noted that he would follow you soon. You turned to head towards the bedroom, only for him to suddenly call out your name. Turning to meet his deep brown eyes, you asked if something was wrong but he didn’t answer. Uncomfortable under his intent and scrutinising- almost unnerving- gaze, you looked down at your feet.
“Yes?”, you prompted with slight annoyance, without facing him.
“(Y/N)...is something the matter?”
His tone was low, solemn. You bit your lip.
After a moment’s pause, you shook your head. “No. I am just tired.”
He seemed to be persuaded this time, for his features melted into a toothy grin. A grin that in other times would make your heart swell with love and joy- now it only intensified your heartache. But still, what a beautiful smile he had...
“Off you go, then. I’ll join you in a bit.”
He had turned away just in time to miss your breaking into silent tears.
You hear Angelina sigh, bringing you back to the present. You glance up at her to find her bearing a frustrated and conflicted expression.
“Is everything alright?”, you question with concern.
“I suppose I should tell you, then”, she mutters, sighing, and you lean in to catch her words.
“Sorry? What was that?”
“Listen, (Y/N), I don’t know what to believe about Fred, but since you insist about him I think it’s best if I tell you this; he has not actually left for a business trip with George”, you freeze in your seat, “He is staying with us for the moment. He is planning to surprise you tomorrow, coming through the door at midnight. He claims he wants to tell you something he has been meaning to tell you for a long time- though I don’t know what exactly. He seems awfully nervous about it, though.”
You sit up in horror. “Merlin, he wants to break up with me! On my birthday! What a git!”, you cry, horrified.
“Now, (Y/N), calm down, you can’t be sure-”
“I can’t let him humiliate me in such a way”, panic is swimming in your voice, “I have to beat him to the punch, I have to- but oh what to do?”
“(Y/N), wait-”
“Aha!”, you give a victorious cry, your gaze landing on Fred’s unopened gift, “An idea! He shall get a taste of his own medicine!”
Your eyes are coated by a feverish sheen that silences Angelina, who stares at you with utter bewilderment.
“Yes...it shall be fun to do”, you smirk evilly, rubbing your hands with satisfaction.
“What are you getting at, (Y/N)?”, she inquires with a mortified tone, “Don’t tell me you will sleep with another just to pay him back?”
“No- not quite”, you cackle for a few moments and then compose yourself, straightening your posture.
“Imagine, dear Angie, tomorrow night. Fred bursts through the door to surprise me”, you narrow your eyes as you envision the moment, “He is disappointed to see me standing far from the fireplace. I look at him- frightened!”, you make dramatic movements to demonstrate your musings, “He takes a moment to inspect his surroundings; roses, candles, dinner for two! What is all this he asks, what can I say, I answer with terror! And then- and then a figure emerges from our bedroom door!”
“(Y/N), please relax-”
“- bear with me, Angie! A figure emerges- it’s a man! Upon seeing Fred, he withdraws immediately and locks himself in! Who is this, he shall ask, what is he doing here? He tries to get to him, but I ran to the door!”, you demonstrate dramatically, leaning on the bedroom door with feeling, “Hand on my mouth, I am petrified! (Y/N), who was that, he will ask again. Fred, I shall say, I didn’t want you to find out! I am so sorry it had to end this way!”, you bellow with a truly heart-rendering tone.
“And to think you are an actress...”, Angelina mutters under her breath and you cannot tell whether her tone was sarcastic or not.
“There is a tense pause”, you go on, envisaging the scene, “and he notices my nightgown!”, you expose your shoulder as cue, “It finally dawns on him; the horror! I, his ever-loyal loving partner, have been unfaithful all along! But before he can ask any questions, I open the packet and take out his gift”, you pretend you are unwrapping said packet, “This is a beautiful whatnot, I tell him, I hope you can return it. There”, you send a wicked smile in Angelina’s way. “That shall teach him.”
She grimaces. “Honey, I don’t think it’s a good idea-”
“Why, it’s a brilliant idea!”, you giggle with a feverish glee, “Absolutely brilliant! I shall have so much fun!”
“But the point shouldn’t be to have fun-”, Angelina starts but you rudely interrupt her.
“-If you tip him off in any way I shall hex you and you know very well I am the best at charms.”
“Well, alright, but-”
“Brilliant!”, you clap your hands in satisfaction, “Now don’t you think it’s time you went home?”, you ask impatiently as you unhook her coat from the coat stand by the door, “I doubt George can take care of Roxanne for much longer!”
“Yeah, no, actually-”
“Besides”, your lips form a provocative smirk, “I have a letter to write.”
...................
“I still can’t think why I agreed to do this.”
You wink at the slim, handsome man lounging in your couch. Despite his words, he is smirking slightly, his lean features painted with amusement.
“Because I promised to set you up with Katie!”, you say triumphantly.
He gets flustered at the mention of the woman’s name and you give a hearty laugh.
“For a man of your age and of considerable experience with women, you sure are acting like a schoolboy when it comes to her”, you flash him a jolly smile, as you hand him a glass of firewhisky. He gladly accepts it and drinks it all in one sip.
“Shut up”, he grumbles when he finishes his drink, though he is still smiling himself.
“Really, Blaise, you used to be such a charmer back at school! Whatever happened to make you this way?”, you laugh again, raising your own glass to your lips. The drink is warm and pleasant in your mouth and you sigh airily.
“What do you mean? I still am!”, he protests.
As he begins to argue why he still has a way with women, you take a moment to appreciate your work. You had bought dozens of red roses- come to think of it, maybe you had overdone it- and had placed them on vases around your and Fred’s cozy living room. You had cooked dinner for you and Blaise, and after you had eaten, you had arranged the remnants on the table in such a way that, when Fred saw it, it would look as though you were about to dine. The lights were dimmed and you had added some aromatic candles for good measure. You exhaled contentedly; the scenery was perfectly excessive. Like the setting of a play.
Focusing your attention back to Blaise, you internally admitted that you were lucky he had agreed to take part in such a... farce. But your and Blaise’s friendship went as far back as his first year at Hogwarts- when he had been sorted into Slytherin and had been too shy to approach anyone- and you had been pretty certain he would not have denied you this favour.
He is a good man, Blaise. He had gone astray during the years of the war, that is true, but he had soon realised the error of his ways. He has been working at the ministry ever since the war ended to compensate for the crucial part his family played in the destructions- a very honourable deed, truly. He still has some hard time grappling with his beliefs about muggle-borns, but you can clearly see how deeply he desires to change and evolve.
You can also see how much he fancies Katie Bell, who is the chief secretary at the Wizarding Theatre. He always jumps at any opportunity to see her- Salazar, he never stops “visiting” you, when in truth he just wants to have a word with her. Therefore, an offer to hook him up with her was enough for him to pretend to be your lover for tonight.
You chuckle wryly to yourself. Not once in your life had you ever imagined to find yourself in such a position. But your heart now ached with a burning desire to see Fred hurt. To experience the smothering feeling of betrayal. Of lies.
Merlin, it was going to be quite a night.
“Drop it”, you finally put a stop to his incessant blabbering, “Let’s rehearse. Do you remember what I said?”
“Yes, boss”, he sits up, “I wait exactly one minute after he enters”, you nod, “I make my appearance, half-dressed, and lock myself in soon after.”
“Yes, very well, and if he asks-”
“-(Y/N), just relax. It will all run smoothly”, he rolls his eyes, “Merlin’s beard, I don’t even want to know why you have plotted such a scheme for Weasley.”
You scoff, but he continues, doubt slipping into his mind. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this. What if he flies into a rage and actually attack me?”
“Don’t be a coward, Blaise, you have dueled before, besides Fred won’t-”, you steal a glance at the clock hanging on the wall, “Goodness, it’s almost time”, you cry with elation, as you rush him into the bedroom.
“Get comfortable, dear”, you flutter your eyes playfully and he titters, before looking back at you.
“I have to admit though; you do look delicious tonight”, he says with a half-smile after his laughter has quietened down.
Perfect, you thought, that was the plan.
You had put on Fred’s favourite nightgown- he always claimed that its colour suited you best- and had taken extra care to dolling yourself up; you had to be convincing after all.
“Now, don’t get any ideas, lover boy”, you say good-humouredly and close the door behind you.
You glance briefly at up the clock- in fifteen minutes Fred will come. You sit back down on the couch and wait, glass in your hand. Your heart is pounding, a little frenzied, in your chest.
Fred...
...................
He had woken up during the second-half of the battle. Before the victory.
You had been lying next to him, unable to move due to your legs being injured during an explosion. The nurse had advised you to try and get some sleep, but how could you possibly have rested when others- your friends, your only family- were fighting for their lives outside? For freedom, they fought, for justice, for a better future, while you were lying there helpless, in the wooden cold floor, next to a motionless Fred.
Worry, no, fear was tormenting you to no end. Would Fred be alright? Would the others survive? Would they win? Your exhausted, panicked mind raced and raced but there was nothing you could do.
There was only pain- and agony.
A grunt had sounded from Fred’s side and in an instant you had turned to him. He had opened his eyes and one hand shot to his forehead, rubbing it slowly.
“Freddie!”, you cried and threw yourself on top of him, forgetting, not really thinking, that he was injured too.
“Oh, Freddie, oh!”, you sobbed with a broken voice, burying your bloody face in his chest, “Oh I- we thought you would- we almost died!”
There was silence for a few moments, as you cried. And then he had slowly lifted his arms, enveloping you in an embrace- tightly. You continued to sob desperately, scared and tired and relieved, all at the same time.
“Don’t cry, (Y/N)”, the beloved voice, a little gruff, had begged, “don’t cry. It will all be over soon.”
“Oh, over how?”, you bellowed in his chest, “I don’t want to die, Fred! I don’t want anyone to die! And you- you almost did- you let your guard down...”
He put a dirty, calloused hand to the back of your head, and began to caress you, gently. Your cries gradually quieted down- as if his touch had a magical effect on you. On your worn-out body and soul.
“There, (Y/N)”, he breathed, “there. The battle will be over soon and Harry and the others will win for us, you’ll see.”
“I want a future, Fred, a good future”, you moaned, “But I am so scared...”
A few seconds passed.
“When we win”, he started slowly, “we will buy an apartment, okay? It will have huge windows and a big balcony, where you can practice your lines and watch the stars. We can build a future there, as good as you want”, he was whispering at this point, his one hand petting your hair soothingly, the other one still snaked around your waist, holding you to him.
You raised your head to meet his eyes. They were bloodshot and he was tired and heavily bruised, blood running down his face; the cost of bravery. His hair a ginger- bloody- mess. But he had never looked more beautiful to you.
The noise around you- unbearable before- of pained moans and sobs and explosions and screams- had diminished to nothing. It was only you and him. Existing in the moment- solely for each other.
“Yes”, you whispered back, “I’d love that.”
“I know”, he breathed. “Me too.”
Another pause. Emotions danced in your body and mind. Words came out before you could think.
“Fred...please stay with me always. Don’t ever leave me.”
His grip tightened, nails digging at your back- for dear life. His chest rumbled, as he replied- his voice clear. Determined.
“Never, love.”
Never. You had believed him.
......................
As the clock strikes midnight, Fred barges into the apartment, his smile wider and brighter than the sun.
“Surprise!”, he exclaims enthusiastically, “Happy birthday, love!”
Mustering all your acting abilities, you jump up with a painfully startled expression.
“Fred!”, you cry, feigning shock, “What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean what am I doing here?”, he quickly walks over to you, beaming, “It’s your bloody birthday! Did you really think I’d miss it? Now, love, why aren’t you at the fireplace?”, he asks, reaching out to you with his long arms, his grin vibrant.
“O-oh, what can I say?”, you stammer, sliding away from him.
“What do you mean by that?”, he questions, his grin loosening as he starts to register his surroundings. You stare frantically at the bedroom door.
“Well, I- I”, you stutter, pretending to be at a loss for words.
“What is all this?”, Fred gestures towards the flamboyant flowers, “Why have you decor-”
The moment he was mouthing these words, Blaise opened the bedroom door, emerging shirtless.
“Dear, are you-”, he begins, only to give a frightened yelp once his gaze falls on Fred, standing tall and strong next you. As planned, he swiftly withdraws and locks the door behind him.
Well done, you think. He would make a decent actor.
From your corner, you can see Fred’s eye twitch, and you can barely suppress the urge to break out laughing.
“W-why”, he stammers, dumbfounded, “that’s Zabini!”
“No, Fr-”
“What is he doing here?”, Fred growls, already taking big steps towards the bedroom, wand in his hand. So quick is he, in fact, you have to make a mad dash to get there before him.
“No!”, you throw yourself in front of the door, guarding it, “D-don’t hurt him, it’s not his fault!”
Fred’s eyes have widened so much at this point, you fear they are going to jump off their sockets. A vein has become visible on his forehead.
“Fault? (Y/N), you don’t mean-”, his breath hitches in his throat, the colour draining from his face, and you almost feel guilty, before you are reminded that he did it first. He betrayed you first. It was he who broke his promise.
“I do”, you admit quietly, your tone coated with feigned guilt, “He didn’t know about you in the beginning. And I didn’t let him leave once he knew...oh I am sorry, Fred...I did not wish for it to end this way”, your voice cracked without your intention.
His fist tightens, the slender fingers around the wand have turned white. Brown eyes- huge. A pained sheen glimmers in them.
You shift uncomfortably, unable to look Fred in the eye. It is much harder than you thought, to see him hurt. It doesn’t...doesn’t feel right somehow.
You are suddenly struck by the feeling that you have gone too far...but there is no going back now.
“How long-”, his voice breaks a little, his face deathly pale, “For how long has this being going on?”
“I- I, not long-”, you shuffle uneasily, the thin line between acting and real feelings coming to a blur.
“Tell me the truth”, his voice rings harsh.
“No, really-”
“-don’t lie, dear”, Blaise’s muffled voice interjects and you internally curse yourself for giving him such precise instructions on what to say, “It has been far too long to lie about it.”
Fred lets out a strangled sound and you flinch. He simply stands there- speechless, in an obvious effort to process what he has just learned. His breathing is heavy, a little ragged.
How do you like that now, Fred?
“I don’t- I don’t understand...”, he mutters weakly, his voice shaking, “I thought you-”
“Nevermind, Fred, what is done is done”, you interrupt him before he can go on, determined to finish what you have started. Reaching for his gift, which you had conveniently placed in the short table close to you, you seized it and began to unwrap it.
“I really did not wish for things to turn out this way”, you mutter, as you fumble with the colourful wrapping, which is revealed to contain a small brown box, “This is very beautiful, I hope you can return it”, you tell him, as you open the box. “Really, it’s such beautiful r-ring-”
Your breath gets caught in your throat, as your voice falters. Dumbfounded, you stare at the delicate jewel, with your favourite gemstone attached on it.
“A r-ring?”, you whimper, as you extend your hand with uncertainty. Fred, still pale and grim, snatches it from you with an angry growl.
“Yes, a ring”, he snarls, his tone bitter, hurt. “Bloody hell, wish I had never got it.”
He turns his back on you angrily, fists clenched, preparing to storm out of the apartment. A million thoughts strike you at once but you find yourself unable to put them in order.
“No, wait, Fred!”, you bellow as you ran after him, tugging on his arm, “It’s not really- I never-”
“Leave it, (Y/N)”, he snaps coldly, pulling his hand back violently.
“Fred, I-”
“- just go back to him!”, he spits acidly.
“But, Fred, you don’t understand at all!”
Your pleading cry follows him to the door, as he slams it with force. For a few moments, you stare at it, completely confused and disconcerted. The utter chaos of thoughts still reigns in your mind.
Blaise comes up from the bedroom door. You turn to face him, your eyes having grown moist.
“Well, that certainly didn’t go as planned, did it?”, he mutters quietly, after giving you a few minutes to compose yourself.
“A ring?”, is the only thing you can manage. “But why- if he is cheating?”
Blaise shrugs in a sad manner. “Perhaps he wanted to settle down with you but keep a mistress?”
You are speechless. You cover your mouth with your sweaty hand, your other hand clutching the side of your nightgown in agitation.
“I just can’t explain-”
Before you can finish your sentence the apartment door is opened again and a furious Fred enters, heading straight towards you, once he spots you. Blaise, with surprising speed, runs back to the bedroom, locking the door behind him.
“You take this, it’s yours”, Fred says with a croaky voice, as he hands you the lovely ring. Colour has now returned to his face; it’s flushed and his eyes are slightly puffy, betraying that he has been crying.
“Fred, I-I”, you stumble over your words, incapable of forming a coherent sentence. Small tears are already streaming down your cheeks.
“Consider this ring as bloody payment”, Fred insists so roughly, you instinctively shrink back to the bedroom door, alarmed, clutching the ring tightly. He turns to leave, when another thought strikes him.
“And while you are there”, his resentful brown gaze snaps at you as he takes a step forward, “Can you please tell Zabini that I am indebted to him? Actually, I can think of no man that I am more indebted to! He really did show me how much-”
“-wait!”, you yell loudly and he freezes, “You can tell him yourself”, you whisper hoarsely and tilt your head towards the door. “Come now, Blaise, please.”
He does carry out your request. Fred visibly stiffens at the sight of him, but stays where he is.
“Now, Weasley, relax”, Blaise holds two hands up in the air as a sign of peace, “Nothing has really happened between me and (Y/N).”
“Don’t give me that crap now”, Fred begins, “You both admitted it-”
“- and we can both go take a truth serum to prove us right. I have never slept with (Y/N), not even once”, Blaise glances at you questioningly and you nod for him to continue, “In fact, she just asked me to pretend we had. It was all set up.”
Fred looks gobsmacked, his mouth agape with incredulity. “W-what?”
His eyes shift to you and you squirm uncomfortably. “It’s true”, you finally confirm timidly, avoiding to look him in the eye.
“I’ll leave you two to it”, Blaise says quietly and proceeds to tactfully exit the apartment, leaving you and Fred facing each other in a dour, uneasy, silence.
“That was a very cheap prank to pull”, comes his voice, dangerously low.
Your gaze remains fixed at the ground.
“Says the man who makes a living out of pulling pranks”, you murmur sourly.
“I would never fall at your level”, you can hear the disgust in his voice, “Damn”, he adds with an exasperated sigh, “you really are a Slytherin!”
You look up at him sharply. “Don’t drag my house into this! It isn’t fair!”
“Then why would you do something like this? It wasn’t funny!”
“Why wouldn’t I? I found it funny.”
Fred steps closer and you cling to the door uncomfortably. His eyes are glazed by a strange sheen that you don’t know how to interpret.
“W-why? Our relationship wasn’t like this.”
“And how was our relationship, might I ask?”, you question resentfully. Time to face him. With facts. No beating about the bush anymore.
“It was honest”, he exclaims, “Honest and loyal!”
“Yes”, you hurl, “But it wasn’t me who started being dishonest and disloyal.”
Fred seems taken aback. His eyes have widened again in evident disbelief. “(Y/N), what do you mean? Are you implying I- ”
“- oh, I am not implying anything”, you lift yourself up, raising yourself to your full height, which, even now, is so small compared to Fred’s towering form. “I am straight up saying it.”
He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. You seize the opportunity to point an accusing finger at him.
“Honest! Loyal!”, you jeer bitterly, “How dare you speak those words! You fool! You think I don’t know what you go and do behind my back? You think I don’t know about her?”, you scream from the top of your lungs, a new row of tears dampening your eyes.
Fred, more flabbergasted than ever, stares at you in shock. “B-but there is no-”
“Don’t you deny it! I have seen her letters, Fred! I saw how you two looked at each other at the premiere! Do you think me such a fool not to know you’ve been fucking behind my back? Behind her partner’s back?”, you fling your arms violently, as an enraged sadness overwhelms you entirely, “You lie to me everyday, every bloody day, you cheat on me, and then you have the audacity to give me a ring as though you wanted to marry me? And if you really want to talk about our houses, then be ashamed, for you don’t belong in yours!”, you turn away as though you were talking to an imaginary audience, “Behold! The Gryffindor gallantry at its finest!”
You pause to catch your breath, your chest heaving in an effort to regain the lost air. Fred is staring at you as though you are a strange animal, but you can detect traces of sadness and guilt mixed in his gaze. You can no longer hold back your tears and you let them flow freely. You feel so tired. So tired of all this.
“Not saying anything, are you?”, you mock Fred through your tears, as you walk up to him and raise the ring to his face, “I don’t want your ring. Give it to Louise.”
He doesn’t take it. You notice that his eyes are wet too.
“Take it!”, you insist, “Louise will like it!”
“Louise- who?”
You eye him pleadingly. “Please, Fred, don’t lie anymore. You know very well who she is.”
“No, I don’t”, both of his strong hands take hold of your arms, rooting you to your spot, “(Y/N), do you really think I would cheat on you?”, he asks sadly, his eyes a pool of misery. You have never seen him like this. Disappointed in you.
“Louise Abercrombie! Y-you’ve been sleeping with her, haven’t you?”
His grip tightens. His stare intensifies. You feel as though you are about to collapse.
“Never.”
Never. You can’t believe him this time- you mustn’t.
“B-but the letters! I saw them!”, you protest miserably.
Fred chuckles slightly. “We had had a business deal. She wanted to trick her fiancé, something about their family affairs. We made a new potion for her”, he tucks a stray stand of hair behind your ear, “George knew about it. You could have asked him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me yourself?”, your voice was barely audible.
“I didn’t think it necessary at the time. You were all worked up about having won the role, remember? You always looked so tired, I didn’t really want to bore you with talk about work.”
“But I wasn’t worked up about that”, you whisper, disoriented. “It’s not true”, you mutter, more to yourself than to him, “It’s just not true...her letter was so amorous!”
“It’s just the way she writes. I will take a truth serum, if you like. You can ask Louise too. George, Angelina, anyone. Love, I’d never do something like this.”
His words finally sink in, piercing through your heart and mind.
“A-and the r-ring?”, you ask him moments later with a faded voice, even though you already know the answer.
“I would ask you tonight”, Fred flashes you a sad smile, “Yeah, that was the plan.”
That was it. With hollow eyes, you untangle yourself from his grasp. Slumping into the couch, you bury your face in your hands and begin to sob, quietly.
Merlin, what have you done? What have you bloody gone and done? What had your foolish pride led you to?
You feel Fred’s weight sink in the seat next you. You continue to sob, inconsolable.
“Why are you crying, love?”, he asks softly, as he snakes an arm around you, bringing you to his chest. You let him envelop you in his embrace, but do not reply.
“It’s all well now, love”, Fred murmurs so soothingly it’s heartbreaking.
“But we can never get married now. We can never be happy”, you sob against his chest.
“Why? We can still get married. We can still be happy.”
“I won’t.”
“Why?”
At his soft-spoken question, you pull away from him, wiping your eyes hastily.
“Don’t you see, Fred? I didn’t trust you enough not to believe you cheated”, you sniff, “No marriage can be based on such weak trust. Not any sort of relationship actually. Fred”, you look at him sorrowfully, your voice wavering, “I think it’s best we part ways from now on.”
His faces convulses and for a moment you think he is about to cry- but then he bursts into laughter. A roaring laughter; it shakes his whole body and you can only watch in confusion, with a gaping mouth.
“Godric!”, he breathes, as he wipes some stray tears from the corner of his eye, “And then they say women aren’t pragmatists! Men are the true romantics!”, he scoops you up in his arms and squeezes you so tightly, you feel might suffocate. You melt into his embrace, suddenly feeling calmed.
“You really must not know me that well”, Fred laughs, “to think I would let you go after so many years just because of a mere misunderstanding.”
”Aren’t you angry?”, you whisper hopefully.
”No”, he laughs, “not really. I am just relieved you are alright. You didn’t look well at all recently.”
So he had noticed after all. Sweet Fred.
A smile makes its way to your lips.
Fred, like his twin, can be a real git sometimes. He is a man who lives to laugh and laughs to live- quite literally. It’s easy to dismiss him as a mere fool, insensitive to the world around him.
But it isn’t true. The Fred you know, the Fred you have loved for all these years is one of the kindest people you’ve ever met. A tender sensibility lies within him, hidden but deep-rooted. It’s always there, to help people, to give them joy, and to protect.
How could you ever think he would betray you? How could you ever consider leaving him? You could never break that lovely heart, not in a million years.
“Freddie...I am sorry”, you whisper with remorse, “I love you.”
“It’s alright, we can work this out together”, is his gentle reply, “I love you too, you dramatic git.”
You look at him, eyes lit by love and gratitude. You start laughing, your heart weightless.
”Oh, Freddie, how did you even fall for my histrionic acting?
He joins you in your laughter, face beaming. As your laughter infiltrates the air, sweet and merry, you know that there is a future waiting for both of you.
A good future.