You did not like Fred Weasley.
You hadn't really formed an opinion of him until your fifth year, when a prank that he and his brother pulled went disastrously wrong and you were caught in the crossfire. It was quite the fiasco, ending with you standing in the middle, covered head to toe in sugar and.... is that honey?
George had apologized and offered to help clean up, but you refused. You wouldn't have let it bother you if Fred hadn't been laughing his ass off in the background. You had decided then that you did not like Fred Weasley.
He had approached you on six different occasions in the following days, to say sorry for the whole thing. You ignored him, though. It was humiliating enough to be in the middle of it, let alone have him laugh as well. You were determined to not speak to him at all.
Fred stopped apologizing after a while, but by no means did he leave you alone. He started trying to get your attention by any way possible. He'd sit next to you in classes, spent a lot of time staring at you, perhaps hoping you'd get uncomfortable and finally snap at him. He respected your privacy, his attempts were on the right side of playful. But nope, he was not getting what he wanted.
Of course, you didn't enjoy the attention. That was absurd. Feeling a little flattered was normal. Yup, perfectly normal. You did not like Fred Weasley. He can fuck off.
So what if he has bright eyes that make your heart flutter and a cheeky smile that makes your knees weak? He's Fred Weasley. And you did not like Fred Weasley.
"You totally like Fred Weasley." Angelina was giving you a look. "You're just in denial."
"No, I don't." You replied. "And I'm not in denial."
"You're in denial of being in denial."
"I'm not-" You took a deep breath. "Say whatever you want, I don't like Fred Weasley."
It shocked you how long Fred continued his advances, and how outrageous they got as time went on. From setting off fireworks in the Great Hall to spell your name (you had to hide a smile at that), to reading Muggle books just so he could quote references when you were around, Fred Weasley was doing the one thing Fred Weasley knew how to do; go big or go home.
It went on for two whole years. And never once did Fred slow down. George seemed to enjoy helping him, so you knew it wouldn't stop anytime soon either.
Also, you blamed him for how hard it was getting to ignore him. You blamed his laugh for your racing heart and flushed cheeks. You blamed his piercing gaze for making you squirm in your seat.
Of course, you did not like Fred Weasley. Nope. This was all his fault.
Things took a turn for the worst in seventh year.
Fred had sat with you in the library before. He'd often make jokes and puns to get a reaction out of you, but mostly, he just silently watched you, trying to unnerve you. It didn't ever work, though. You had become good at ignoring his comments.
Until now.
As he sat down today, the chair below him squeaked. In that instant, you could practically feel the idea forming in his head, you didn't have to look at him. But it was safe to say it was the worst time you had ever had at a library.
Fred deliberately fidgeted in the seat, making it squeak horribly. You gritted your teeth to hide your annoyance. It didn't work. The chair continued to make a high-pitched squeaking sound, seeming louder in the silence of the library. You clenched your fists, trying to concentrate on your Charms book. He was not winning this. You wouldn't let him.
Fred continued subtly moving, making the chair squeak and groan with each movement. Your patience was wearing thin, so you abruptly stood up, gathered your things and stormed out of the library. You had kept up this game for too long. And if you stayed in there longer, you would have to break your silence with Fred.
You did not like Fred Weasley, and he wasn't doing anything to help his case.
Over the next few weeks, the squeaking chair had become an annoyingly important part of your day. Fred would deliberately sit in that chair, and it was no use when you switched tables. The library was always dead silent, you could hear the chair on the other side of the room.
It was unbearable. You had spent so much time listening to the squeaking chair that your ears would still be ringing with its annoying sound even when you were elsewhere. You wanted to rip Fred's head off. That little shit. With his stupid eyes, and his stupid outrageously red hair, and his fucking stupid hands that you wanted all over your body. You wanted to cut his hands off.
It was a cold December evening when you finally broke. Fred was sitting opposite to you, as usual. The chair was squeaking terribly, making you clench your jaw. Last night, you had dreamed of the chair as well. This was getting way out of hand.
You looked up at Fred, putting all your hate in that one glare.
"Cut it out."
Fred looked like he was putting a lot of effort into not celebrating his victory right there and then. "Why should I?"
"Squeak that chair one more time, and I will murder you while you sleep tonight."
Fred moved, making the chair squeak. You let out a cry of frustration before standing up, and starting to gather your things.
Fred moved to stand next to you, grabbing your arm and turning you to him, face inches from yours.
"Two years, sweetheart. Two years I waited to hear you speak to me. You're not leaving."
Your breath hitched at his proximity, making him smirk. You pulled a defiant look on your face.
"Yeah? Who's gonna stop me? You?"
Fred licked his lips and your eyes were instantly drawn to them. They were rosy red. They look so soft, I wonder how they'll feel....
You let out another strangled sound, grabbing the collar of Fred's shirt and pulling him down for a kiss.
He responded instantly, grabbing you from behind your thighs and lifting you onto the table. He took his place between your legs, kissing you hungrily. It was sloppy and hot. Tongues and teeth clashing. You pulled at his hair and he groaned against your mouth. One of his hands slid under your skirt to massage the bare skin of your thighs, making you whimper. His body moved fluidly against yours, biting your lips, pulling at your shirt. It felt heavenly.
You pulled away after a while, breathing heavily. Fred's eyes were blown, lips swollen and hair messy. You were sure you looked more or less the same. But you didn't mind.
Fred kissed you again, slower this time, softer and more sensual. Light pecks and slow caresses. You sighed against his lips, not bothering to suppress your smile.
You did not like Fred Weasley.
You were in love with him.