IT'S LOVE! ☆ fred weasley x fem! reader ✓

Detention, Tutors, & Elves, Oh My

Boy were you wrong.

"I want you two to clean every single cauldron I've managed to get my hands on; each throughly cleaned with time and care. After that, I have a special assignment for you; Miss Y/L/N." Snape grinned maliciously.

You sigh, and grab a sponge.

This is gonna be a long night.

"Where's your brother, Weasley?" Snape snaps.

"You mean Ge—"

"Fred? He should be studying in the library, but Merlin only knows what he's really up to." You cut in; another crazy-enough-to-work plan in your head.

"Oh really," Says Snape, fixing you with an intimidating stare. "And what if your lying?"

You had really had enough of Snape. One wrong move from him and you'd have yourself kicked out of Hogwarts.

You smiled mischievously and returned his cold stare.

Not leaving it, you replied confidently, "I think that I, of all people, should know the difference between the twins."

"Oh really? And why must that be?"

"Shouldn't I be able to identify the person of whom I kissed from his almost identical twin brother?" You smile again, a mad glint to your eyes.

This is what it felt like to have true revenge.

"Are you lying to me, Miss Y/L/N?"

You didn't dare to leave his gaze. For a split second you thought you would have to look away; but that was to admit defeat.

And you were a Gryffindor, dammit, you would never truly accept defeat.

"No, Professor Snape. There is simply no need to."

He gave you one last look, then turned away.

He actually thought Fred was George! Eureka! This way you guys could work together and Snape wouldn't separate you guys.

Or at least, not too far.

. . .

Four. Fucking. Hours.

It took you and Fred four hours to clean the cauldrons. At first you rushed, but a quarter ways through Snape managed to point out a dirt spot on every single cauldron you had cleaned; meaning you had to start over again but taking more time.

Towards the end, as you put more soap onto your sponge, some soap slid off the sponge onto your cut on your hand.

"Ow, ow, oww."

"What happened?" Fred asked, taking his head out of the cauldron he was cleaning which had wart-like things stuck to the bottom of it.

"Soap... in... cut..." You grab the rag and try to rub it off, only making it worst. "Owwww." You wince in pain.

"What kind of soap is this?" Fred grabs the bottle.

"I don't think it should matter, either way something getting in an open wound isn't gonna be all sunshine and lollipops—"

"JUMPING GARGOYLES!" He exclaims. "Y/N, this is lemon."

"What?! He's using lemon soap?!?! Of course he is. Well, that makes matters a whole lot better, doesn't it?" You say sarcastically.
You always went a little sarcastic in bad situations.

"Calm down, Y/N—"

But you couldn't calm down. Your hand was burning as the soap slipped into every nook and cranny of your cuts until it was utterly painful, and you could no longer hear the noises around you.