Fred's POV-
There were three things that Fred Weasley had been expecting when he woke up this morning: a flunked Potions quiz, Oliver Wood's wrath (given that Fred skipped Quidditch practice the day before), and a forbidden trip to Hogsmeade with George at midnight.
What Fred had not been expecting is for a certain someone to rush up to him in the middle of the hallway right after Potions class (and he was right—he did flunk that quiz), grip onto his shoulders, and press a kiss to his cheek.
Now, Fred is not easily surprised. He's always the one to do the surprising, usually in the form of masterfully executed pranks and ridiculously witty remarks. But the word "surprised" seems like a poor fit for what he feels right now, because he is—for lack of better word—stunned. Gobsmacked. Flabbergasted. Is he in a fever dream?
The kiss lasts a mere half-second; before Fred can even begin to wrap his head around what the bloody hell just happened, Y/N is already pulling away from him and rambling on about being dared and blackmailed and perverts and definitely not liking him. (That last part kind of hurt, but that's hardly what's on Fred's mind right now.)
Fred blinks and wonders if the warmth spreading across his cheeks shows.
Y/N has stopped talking and is staring up at him, a blush of her own coating her face—and it's so ridiculously obvious how flustered she's gotten that Fred can't help but start laughing both out of fondness and to ease the bewilderment he feels as he tries to wrap his head around the past few seconds' events.
Which is that Y/N—a friend of his and George's for quite some time now who has an immaculate sense of humor, is secretly a pranking genius, and also happens to be one of the prettiest girls Fred has seen around Hogwarts—has just kissed him on the cheek, and is claiming to have been blackmailed into doing it.
"I'm sorry, Y/N/N," Fred begins, eyebrows raised. "But that's a very poor excuse." Which, in Fred's head, translates to: I hope that's an excuse because if it isn't, then I'm going to have to live with the fact that a pretty girl had to be blackmailed into kissing me.
She gapes at him for a moment, and then sputters out an indignant "no", after which she proceeds to open and close her mouth like a fish blown out of water as though grasping for words that won't come to her. The grin on Fred's face grows; at least he knows he's not the only one flustered around here, and, to be perfectly honest, he's dealing with it a lot better.
Funny. He's the one who got kissed on the cheek—shouldn't he be more worked up?
The fondness in his chest only swells when Y/N huffs and purses her lips, eyes skittering away from his as she mutters something inaudible under her breath.
It's not like Fred likes her. Sure, he talks a lot louder and acts rowdier around her just to grab her attention. And okay, he claims he needs help with a prank just to have an excuse to talk to her. Maybe he always remembers to bring her food from the kitchens just to see the bright grin on her face when he hands her a strawberry cupcake. And sure, he got jealous that one time he saw Roger Davies blatantly trying to flirt with her—
Okay, sure. Maybe Fred does like Y/N.
And maybe his feelings are a tad bit hurt when Y/N tells him, cheeks still flushed a bright red, "No, listen to me, Fred, I was literally blackmailed. Now excuse me while I cleanse my lips ferociously."
Fred already has a witty remark resting on the tip of his tongue to mask his hurt feelings. But before it even gets past his lips, Y/N is already dashing off. Before he knows it, she has already turned the corner and disappeared.
And all the while, Fred stands there outside of the Potions classroom, staring after her.
"Well, wasn't that an interesting thing to witness." George makes his presence known for the first time since Y/N came up to him. He claps Fred on the shoulder, and Fred doesn't even have to look at him to know that he's grinning. "Don't faint on me now, Freddy. We've still got Charms class to go to."
Being kissed by a pretty girl, it turns out, does wonders for one's ego, because Fred feels ridiculously full of himself for the rest of the day.
He has two classes with Y/N: Care of Magical Creatures and Divination class, both of which are set at the end of the day just before dinner. And for some weird, totally unknown reason, Fred is on the edge of his seat.
He hasn't seen her around since she'd kissed him a few hours ago, so he practically dashes to his Care of Magical Creatures class with George lagging behind him in anticipation to see her.
Except, when he arrives at the grounds, she is nowhere to be seen.
"Maybe she's late?" suggests George, and then, with a mischievous grin on his face, he nudges Fred and says, "D'you think she's still busy cleansing your germs off her lips?"
"Sod off," Fred grumbles, his previous excitement now quickly waning.
George snorts. The other sixth years are milling around the grass in wait for Hagrid, completely oblivious to the dejected Fred Weasley surveying the class in search for a certain someone. "Only joking," says George, his tone impish. "She's probably just off somewhere regretting her life choices—"
Fred tries to smack his twin upside the head, but years of growing up next to one another and thus knowing each other's every move seem to have paid off for George, because he manages to dodge Fred almost effortlessly.
"Blimey, can't take a joke, can you?" he grins, the look on his face making it clear that he finds teasing Fred greatly enjoyable. And then, in a more serious tone, "Don't get your panties in a bunch just yet. She'll show up for Transfiguration."
Except she doesn't, and Fred starts to wonder if he'd done something terribly wrong. Perhaps he'd reacted the wrong way; maybe he shouldn't have acted so full of himself when she'd kissed him. Did he? Or should he have kissed her back? No, definitely not—that would've been weird. Would it? Had she really been blackmailed? To what extent? Should he be somewhere tracking down her blackmailer and avenging her?
As a result, Fred is absolutely out of it during Transfiguration class.
The moment he stepped foot through McGonagall's classroom and realized that Y/N wasn't there, he'd fallen quiet and hadn't uttered a word. He has failed to acknowledge George's constant nudges and has been staring at absolutely nothing for the entire duration of the class.
He stays like this even after the period ends, as well as on their way to the Great Hall for dinner. When Ron trips over literal air in the hallway and Fred miraculously doesn't make some sort of funny remark, George stops in his tracks. Looking genuinely concerned, he grabs his twins by the shoulders and asks, completely serious, "What did you nickname your dangly-bits when you were eight?"
Fred's eyes grow wide; it's the first genuine, non-lifeless reaction he has shown since an hour ago. "What the—"
"I'm only asking you once," says George, deadpan. "If you answer this wrong, I'm going to have to assume you're not Fred and you've been replaced by some sort of imposter, because the real Fred would have made Ron cry over tripping—"
"Have you gone mad—"
"What did you name your dangly-bits?"
Still in disbelief, Fred sputters out, "Champ."
George blinks, then drops his hands back to his sides. He wrinkles his nose. "I suppose you are still yourself. What's gotten into you, mate? Last time I can recall you acting like this was.." he pauses, brows pulling together at the middle in thought, "Actually, never."
"I'm growing up, George," Fred nods earnestly, and his tone is joking but the slump of his shoulders says otherwise. Tapping his temple with a finger as though to stress his point, Fred keeps walking, George keeping pace next to him. "I'm starting to look at the world in a different light. Can't joke around forever, you see."
George full-on snorts. "Rubbish. If I hadn't known any better, I would've thought you were still thinking about Y/N."
Fred doesn't reply. There's a ten-second silence, the first few of which George laughs a little as though the idea is ridiculous, but then his eyes land on Fred's sullen expression.
"Oh," says George, once more stopping in his tracks. Fred ignores him and keeps walking—if they keep stopping every few steps, they're never going to get to the Great Hall (where Fred is maybe, maybe hoping to see Y/N).
Already a few feet away, Fred hears George shout after him, "You like her, don't you?"
Does Fred like an unimaginably pretty girl with the loveliest laugh he has ever heard and cheeks that flush the brightest shade of pink whenever she gets flustered? Does he like a girl with a smile that could light up the entire castle? Does he like the girl he could talk to for hours and hours and never get tired of?
Without as much as turning around to look at his twin, Fred, whilst walking, says loudly, "So what?"
Fred is now much too far away from his twin, but he thinks he might have heard George yell something along the lines of "I should've bloody known!"
—
Fred doesn't see her at dinner. Upon returning to the Gryffindor tower, he finds that the common room is also completely Y/N-free. He does spot Ginny, who he immediately approaches.
"Hello, sister," says Fred smoothly, detaching her from her group of friends to pull her into a corner. Not bothering to beat around the bush, he asks, "By any chance, have you seen Y/N around anywhere?"
Ginny stares at her older brother, wearing an impish smile that Fred knows all too well. There's a familiar hint of mischief glinting in her eyes that Fred has seen far too many times in the mirror. "I suppose you want to repay her for what she gave you earlier?" says Ginny, lips curling up into a grin.
Fred raises his eyebrows. "And what might that be?"
"A kiss," sings Ginny, giggling. "Are you about to confess to her? Are you planning to drag her out to the balcony and kiss her under the light of a thousand st—"
Fred is already turning on his heel and walking away before Ginny can even finish her sentence.
—
When Fred Weasley woke up that morning all those hours ago, the last thing he'd been expecting was to end the day thinking of the feeling of Y/N's lips on his cheek and what it would feel like if the tables were turned and he kissed her.
Fred has long since realized that no amount of tossing and turning will allow him to fall asleep. So now he lays awake in his four-poster bed, listening to the sound of rain pattering against the window but not really registering it; his brain is much too busy mulling over things of far greater importance.
Well, thing: Y/N.
Without really knowing whether or not his twin is awake or not, Fred tests the waters and says aloud, "George?"
"I say ask her out," George's voice replies without missing a beat, like he'd been waiting for Fred to ask all this time. "Tomorrow at breakfast. She fancies you, Freddy. That blackmail excuse was codswallop."
Fred swallows, eyes fixed on the dark stretch of ceiling. "What if it wasn't?"
"I bet twenty galleons it was absolute rubbish. She needed an excuse to kiss you."
"You don't have twenty galleons."
"Okay, I bet my nine galleons it was rubbish. Happy?"
Nine galleons. That and Fred's feelings—is he willing to risk that and ask her out, like George is suggesting?
"I don't want to jump to conclusions," groans Fred, rolling over and stuffing his face into his pillow. "Have you seen her, George? She's.."
"She's a bit of a looker, yes."
At this, Fred scowls.
"Are you scowling at me? I can feel it."
A pillow is thrown from Fred's bed, but it is much too dark and Fred's aim is very much off; the pillow lands somewhere at the foot of George's bed, nowhere close to its intended target. "Ha, you missed," George chirps. "Just like you'll miss Y/N when some other bloke gets to her before you do because you're too much of a wimp to ask her o—"
Another pillow, this time hitting George full-on in the face. "Ow!"
Despite the heavy feeling of worry resting on his chest, Fred is unable to help himself from smiling smugly in triumph. "Slipped, sorry."
George throws the pillow back but misses; it lands somewhere on the floor, not even near Fred's bed. "Whatever," Fred hears him grumble. And then, tone brightening once more, "You will ask her out tomorrow, won't you?"
At this, Fred falls silent.
"Come on, Freddy. Mum didn't raise you to be a wimp."
"Easier said than done," sighs Fred, voice muffled due to how he has stuffed his face into the one pillow left on his bed. "Will you be a good twin and cheer me up when she rejects me?"
"No promises." And despite it being dark, Fred knows fully well that George is grinning. "But I can promise to be the best man at your wedding. Free of charge."
A wedding. Ha. He can't even look at her without feeling all flustered. "We'll see how it goes," says Fred, exhaling heavily.