Y/N leaned back in her desk chair, a quill positioned between her teeth and her mind wandering far beyond whatever Professor McGonagall was lecturing. Who would ever take an advance course in the afternoon? It was all she could do to stay awake let alone focus on what was being taught. She sighed, staring at the slowly setting sun out the glass paned windows beside her; McGonagall droned on about purses and porcupines.
Transfiguration was never her strong suit – well to say that anything academic was Y/N’s strong suit was pretty farfetched. The only things she managed to be successful at in the last six years were:
1. Being the only student to receive an Outstanding in potions
2. Having the Weasley twins notice this remarkable achievement
3. Be recruited to brew concoctions for said twins and their secret joke shop
More than anything, Y/N wished to be up in the Gryffindor common room, writing out order forms for Weasley Wizard Wheezes. The very thought of whipping up some potent love potion or a forgetfulness draft for one of the twins' inventions made her leg bounce beneath her desk.
Inching her eyes around her, she gazed at the wrist of George Weasley sitting next to her. With his arms folded and his head nodding, it was easy to get a look at the wizards watch on his arm. It was only a few minutes until the bell rang for the class to be dismissed. Then it would be dinner and a night full of exploding snap, signing building leases in Diagon Alley, creating more product for the shop, and if they’re feeling up for it… maybe even some homework.
Turning back forward and landing her chair on all fours, probably much louder than was necessary, she peered at the other Weasley twin sitting directly in front of her. Fred was just as slumped over as his brother, no doubt from the lack of sleep and anxious planning. What with Umbridge and Mrs. Weasley breathing down their necks, they’ve been on edge constantly behind everyone’s backs. Y/N was the only one that really saw all that – not even Lee Jordan notices that side often.
But with the prize money that Potter had given the twins, there was hope like nothing they’d had before. And a plan was forming – a plan to escape Hogwarts before the year was through.
Y/N ripped the corner of her parchment and crushed it into a little ball. With her wand she levitated the object and shot it at the back of Fred’s head. He made a colossal jolt in his seat, banging his knees on the underside of his desk. Y/N had to hold in the giggles as George frantically turned his eyes between her and Fred.
“Mr. Weasley,” came the daunting voice of Professor McGonagall, “I take it you’re experiencing a sudden rush of inspiration.”
Fred rubbed at the corners of his eyes and mumbled something groggily.
“Indeed. Would you care to demonstrate this enthusiasm you seemingly have for the transfiguration of porcupines?”
George seemed to have gathered what had happened as he put a hand to his lips and snickered. Y/N shared a knowing glance with him as she bit her tongue to keep from laughing; it was the death glare Fred sent back to her as he stood that really tested her will power to remain quiet.
They were then allowed to leave shortly after as the bell rang for the end of class. Fred tromped away like an angry, shamed dog. He held one of his hands close to his chest with a defined frown on his face.
“Quills in my fingers… I’ll kill her.”
George and Y/N came running up behind him with ear-splitting grins, “Hiya, Freddie… going for a Wolverine look, are you?”
He ignored them, cradling his fingers, which made Y/N roll her eyes towards the twin.
“Come on, you put that on yourself, falling asleep in class like you did.”
“And that’s an excuse to throw me under the bus?” Fred snapped, very clear dark circles under his eyes, which amplified the dark exhaustion seen there. “God, read the room, Y/N.”
She paused the pep in her step and watched him trudge away. George stifled a yawn and peeked at the slight concern adorning her features, “Ah, don’t worry about it, Y/N. We’ve all been through the wringer with this joke business.”
“He’s never come at me like that,” she muttered, “I never thought I’d see the day where Fred couldn’t take a joke.”
“Gesh, where’d that come from?” George asked, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and urging her towards Gryffindor tower. “Let’s be honest – he’ll be fawning over you by morning.”
That didn’t lift her spirits much as creeping doubt filled her as it usually did when thinking of Fred’s affections. George was convinced that the consistent flirting and subtle jokes about a relationship would turn out right in the end, but she was becoming increasingly frustrated at the possibility.
All the waiting had only magnified her feelings for him… and dampened the idea of good prospects.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” George hissed, pulling her closer to him, “Now it’s all you’re going to think about for the next week.”
She relieved a heavy sigh, leaning into him as they walked towards the staircases, “I just wish he’d be more forthwith about his feelings. I can never tell if he’s pulling some horrific prank or if he actually wants to be with me.”
George became much more serious as she continued, his grip on her shoulder becoming tighter.
“Sometimes I wish he would give me a sign… something that’s patently clear in his intentions. Sometimes I wish he would stop joking and just hold my hand or give me a hug or something!”
“You… you know he’s a bit headstrong – always has to be at the forefront of whatever’s going on,” George began, choosing his words carefully, “When he – doesn’t know what to do… he tends to avoid it to not look the fool.”
Y/N could feel a smile trying to appear, but she kept it downturned, “That’s the problem then… I don’t know what to do either.”
They made it to the portrait hole and George gave her a knowing smirk, “Just show him that you’re there, that you’re open and willing. It’s easier taking a chance when you know there is a chance.”
He waited for her to respond, but when she didn’t, he went for a comforting hug anyway. She felt the reassurance but knew that it would disappear as soon as she saw Fred’s face. She didn’t want to see that snippy, harsh gaze again.
Entering the portrait hole, somewhat timidly against her natural instinctual reaction to jump through laughing and poking fun, she peered around the common room with downcast eyes. However, there was no Fred Weasley to be seen; she noticed Harry, Ron, and Hermione in their usual spots by the fireplace, and Lee Jordan was trying to get on Katie Bell’s good side over by the bulletin.
She noticed George give her a pointed look over by the staircase and urged her to follow him up. In then occurred to her that Fred was probably in his room sulking and being bitter over his quilled hand.
With a quiet nod, she let him leave as she ran up to her own dormitory to scavenge through her growing pile of potion experiments and samples. Very quickly she found a vial containing the essence of Murtlap, something perfect for minor injuries.
And it must’ve been the overwhelming nerves that muted her usual panicked reaction, because she immediately sped off to the boys' dormitories. Not being as protected as the girls' side, she easily found the seventh year room and knocked on the door before cracking it open.
“Come for a game of exploding snap?” George’s voice was instantly heard, as if he were expecting her to arrive momentarily, “Or perhaps to look at this new lot Diagon Alley has offered?” He was sitting on the edge of his mattress, facing the middle of the room, but his eyes kept wandering over to his brother laying atop his own bed.
Fred was resting on the backboard of his four poster, his gaze pointed down and his fingers fidgeting with the end of his shirt. He barely flinched when Y/N opened the door; apparently he wasn’t surprised she turned up either.
All she could see was how tired he looked – how done he looked. It was something no one would’ve ever guessed could plaster itself on a Weasley twins’ face, but there it was. And it pained Y/N to see it, and to know that she had made it worse.
Silently she went over to him, wanting him to look at her. “Move,” she muttered.
e finally turned his face to give her a quizzical expression, “What?”
“Move over,” she whispered, a short smile appearing, “I’ve got something for you.”
Fred seemed skeptical, like he wondered if she knew he couldn’t take any more sarcasm that day. But he complied to inch over enough for her to plant herself next to him.
They were shoulder to shoulder, Fred noticed with rapt attention.
“Give me your hand.” She pulled out her vial and waited for him to offer up his injured hand, “This will help.”
He gave her a look that struck Y/N as peculiar… it was almost like he was afraid. But he hesitantly gave her his hand, nonetheless.
“Don’t you trust me?” She gently took his palm and became oblivious to how he stared at her.
“Yes,” he whispered, suddenly incredibly aware that their close proximity was allowing him to look at her without any choice. It was making his heart race to have her face mere inches away from his. It was doing strange things to his breathing, like if he didn’t hold his breath then the moment would disappear.
It was giving him incredible amounts of hope.
“This will make it feel better,” she said, allowing a few drops of the Murtlap essence fall onto his palm. She then set the vial aside and used her free hands to massage and rub the medicine into his fingers.
She was kept busy with her work, but she could feel Fred’s burning gaze boring into her. Her heart started fluttering as the tension grew between them. It was the first time she sat next to him and felt something tangible between them. Before this, Fred normally distanced himself just enough that there was an acceptable amount of space between them.
But now, with Y/N curled into his side, feet tucked beneath her, they were forced to maintain the close connection. She massaged his hand, feeling him take deep breaths beside her. He was having a hard time trying not to relax; there was just something so incredibly safe and comforting about her sitting there and taking care of him.
“I’m sorry about McGonagall’s class,” she said, finally flickering her eyes to his smoldering ones, “I didn’t mean to touch a nerve.”
He silently shook his head, exhaustion still evident in his face, “I haven’t been myself lately, I should apologize for snapping at you.”
“Apology accepted,” she smiled, “Now you’re going to have to make it up to me.”
“I see,” he stated, letting his eyes droop. It was intoxicating how her treating him was letting the stress melt away. It felt so secure being in her capable hands, “Whatever could I do to repay your kindness?”
She snickered at she began tracing the lines on his hand, “You’ll think of something.”
And they sat there together for a few moments longer as Fred slumped further and further into his bed and towards Y/N. She sat and waited, carefully watching how he subtly crept his hand into hers and intertwined their fingers.
She practically held her breath as he made himself comfortable against her shoulder, sighing in contentment. Opening her mouth in surprise, she moved her eyes from his relaxed, dozing face to George sitting on the bed next to them.
The other twin was busy going over an essay with his wand, fixing any spelling mistakes, but he quickly gave her a thumbs up and a wink, mouthing, “Told you so.”
“Shh,” she gave him a slight shake of her head when Fred mumbled into her shoulder.
“Is this okay?”
“Yes, Freddie,” she replied in hushed tones, squeezing his hand, and leaning her head on top of his, “This is perfect.”