Chapter Text
Fred walked out of McGonagall’s office with a pounding headache that his hangover wasn’t completely responsible for. She kept looking at him like he had become such a massive disappointment that she didn’t even know what to do with him. It was a face that he’d been used to seeing on his mother’s face, but he’d had ten years to get used to hers.
George was mad at him for wasting all the money they’d earned from the parties they threw, and when Fred told him that they’d have plenty more opportunities to throw parties, he’d just punched him in the arm and told him to fuck off.
Luckily, it was a Sunday, which meant that he could sleep his hangover away. He made his way up to his room, ignoring the whispers that followed him and even the stray claps on his shoulder from those who thought he was a god for escaping the castle. He toed his shoes off and opened his bed curtains and yelped in surprise.
“Harry! What are you- but it’s- I thought this was the Gryffindor tower,” Fred stuttered. He chalked his stumbling up to his exhaustion.
“It is?” Harry said, confused. “George let me in. I wanted to talk to you about yesterday… are you okay? You don’t look so good. Where were you just now?”
“Oh, honey, can we talk later? I’m so fucking tired and I feel like I’m going to sick up at any moment.”
“Oh, you’re sick? I can go get Wiley, she’s a pro at illnesses. Saved my life in second year.”
Dear Merlin, Fred didn’t want to hear sentences like that come out of his mouth. He knew Harry wasn’t using hyperbole.
“Just need some sleep, love. I’ll be-” he yawned, “-tip top shape in a few. Scoot over? Cheers.”
He set his head upon his pillow. He closed his eyes and heard Harry settle in next to him, the smell of one of the ancient books from the library being cracked open wafting towards him. He smiled, and his smile only grew as Harry pressed his soft lips against his cheek.
“Feel better, love,” Harry whispered hesitantly, his voice cracking on that last word. But it only made Fred smile more.
*
When Fred woke up, Harry was scribbling in a notebook beside him. Fred recognized it as one of his. Specifically his half empty potions notebook from third year.
“Did you go through my trunk?” Fred asked him. Harry looked up from his book in surprise.
“You went through mine.”
“Touche.” He yawned and stretched his arms. “I have a very nasty hex on my trunk, how’d you get it open?”
Harry’s cheeks reddened and he avoided his gaze. “I have my ways.”
Fred pressed his lips together. That only meant one thing: a less handsome clone of him.
“I’ll give George a pass for now since I did waste our scant money.”
Harry cocked his head in confusion. Fred sighed as he sat up.
“My headache’s mostly gone which means I think we should talk about yesterday,” Fred said despite the fact he wanted nothing less. Well, no, he wanted many things less than this. Snogging Snape was number one, followed by his siblings dying, and his mother casting him out of the family because of his rebellion. Dear Merlin, did he wish he was sleeping again.
“Right,” Harry said. His chin was pointing towards his lap which made his hair fall into his face. Fred wanted to kiss him and get rid of all of his insecurities, but they had to talk about it.
“Harry-” Fred started, but he was cut off.
“When we break up, can I keep this notebook? It’s just- I don’t have any and the elves are mad at me so I can’t ask them to pilfer any from the cupboards, and I don’t want to risk getting caught by Filch again, detention last time was worse enough, and besides, I really like all the little notes you wrote in the first half of the book. You’re really bad at tic-tac-toe.”
Fred gaped at Harry and tried to process all of that. He wanted to focus on the last half, but the first half of that word vomit kept reverberating through his brain. When. Harry had said when. When. When. When.
“When we break up?” Fred croaked. That migraine that had escaped him came back and was knocking on his head like it was a door. Harry didn’t say anything. “Do you want to break up with me?”
Harry looked at him with wide eyes. Fred didn’t know if it was because he’d been caught or guilty, or what.
“Don’t you? After yesterday, I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to…” he trailed off.
Fred bit his lip to keep his sigh in. “Harry,” he said slowly. It was a bit condescending, but he was running on absolute fumes. “I’m a bit peeved about yesterday but that doesn’t mean I want to break up.”
Harry turned his face away but not enough for Fred not to notice how severely he was biting his lip.
“Maybe it would be better,” Harry said quietly. “If we broke up. Just for now.”
It was a testament to how hungover and miserable Fred felt that he started laughing. He tilted his head back and let out cackles that he didn’t think he was capable of since he had last tested the failed chatterboxes products. His body shook with unrestrained, maniacal laughter.
It wasn’t until a few moments later that he realized just how unfunny this whole situation was. He looked at the boy he’d spent so long trying to trust him, who was looking at him in great concern, and wished that just anything in his life was easy.
“You’re actually breaking up with me right now, aren’t you?” Fred asked with mirth on his lips and hurt in his eyes.
Harry had the audacity to look shocked. “Fred-”
“Oh yeah, I forgot,” Fred bit, all amusement gone. “You hate confrontation, even when it’s positive. How many times have I told you that I love you and you just straight up ignore me? How many times have I put my faith in you and you give me absolutely nothing back? Even now you’re not actually breaking up with me! You’re baiting me so I’ll break up with you and save you the trouble!”
“That’s not fair,” Harry whispered, his face set in an icy blankness.
“No, what’s not fair is me putting more into our relationship than you do. I’m even putting more into our breakup than you are!”
“God, just stop,” Harry said. He climbed over Fred to stand up. He threw the notebook on the bed and got his things together, which had been lying near the bed. “You don’t fucking get it, so it’s not even worth the trouble,” he muttered. He was putting on his beat up trainers and cursed when the laces wouldn’t cooperate.
“Well when you say it like that!” Fred exclaimed, throwing his hands up. Harry flinched from his crouched position and fell backwards.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then tell me what you do mean!” Fred all but shouted. He felt ridiculous for sitting in his bed, so he got up. Harry was still sitting on the floor and looking up at him with a pout on his face. “Tell me why you’re doing this! Tell me how you’re feeling, just tell me anything!”
Never had silence been more damning.
“For Merlin’s sake, Harry! I’m putting myself on the line here and you won’t even do-”
“I don’t want you to get hurt!” Harry shouted, standing up. Fred stepped backwards. “When I say that it’s not worth the trouble, I mean that I’m not worth the trouble! Do you know what I hear on a daily basis? ‘There goes Harry Potter, mucking it up for everyone.’ Ruining their day by just being in their presence. ‘Overdramatic Harry Potter, can’t take a fucking joke.’
“My roommates all think you’re dating me for a prank, you know. I’ve heard students say that the Gryffindor quidditch team have a bet to see how long you last with me, because of course it’s absolutely fucking miserable being with me. I know it is, Fred! I have to live with myself all the time, I know how fucking horrible it is!” Harry screamed. Tears were streaming down his face and his hands were by his side curled in fists.
“You’re going to get hurt in the next task and it’s going to be all my fault and I won’t even be able to save you because I’m so fucking useless all the fuck- fucking time!”
Fred had been unable to do anything but watch as Harry screamed those words. But when he started to hyperventilate, Fred leapt forward. Harry tried to push him away, but Fred grabbed his shoulder and led him towards the bed. He sat next to him and placed Harry’s hand on his heart. He breathed in exaggeratingly and held his breath for a long moment, trying to coax Harry into taking deeper breaths.
“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Fred mumbled to Harry as he helped him through the panic attack. “In and out, there you go.”
It was scary being on the opposing side. It had been terrifying being the one having the panic attack, but it was entirely different having to see Harry go through it. He wiped his tears away and pressed kisses below each eye, mumbling praises in between.
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” Harry repeated after a few minutes of semi-stable breathing. It sounded less erratic and more resigned. “I thought maybe if we broke up, the judges wouldn’t put you in harm’s way for me. I’m not worth the trouble.”
Fred didn’t know if words would be enough so he stood up and took his wand out. Harry watched him wearily.
“Well then I’m going to make sure that you’re not unprepared. Whatever happens in the next task, you’ll be there to save me. Because I believe in you.”
“Fred,” Harry said, his voice wobbling. “I can’t do magic.”
“You told me yourself you wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t do magic, right? So come on! Let’s practice some spells that will work in the lake!”
When Harry didn’t take his wand out, Fred crouched down to his level and pushed back his glasses. “You’re worth the trouble, honey. I’m not giving up on you. And I swear to Godric Gryffindor himself that if I hear anyone talking about you like that, I will hurt them so badly they won’t even know their fucking name. The quidditch team included.”
Harry looked at him for a long moment before his eyes strayed from his eyes to lower. Fred was confused until Harry leaned in and he felt the briefest touch of lips on his own. It lasted less than half a second but it was enough to make him lightheaded. Harry shot up from the bed, a flush on his cheeks, and smiled sheepishly.
“My wand’s in my room. I’ll be back in a bit.”
And like he hadn’t just completely reoriented Fred’s life and heart, he left. He wasn’t sure how long it took for Harry to come back, but in that time waiting, Fred had gotten up, felt both giddy and numb, and gone to the bathroom where he dunked his head in a full sink of water.
He’d said a lot of things he wasn’t sure if he believed. Part of him just wanted to hurt Harry the way that Harry hurt him. It’d really hurt yesterday when Harry refused to trust him to keep him safe. But it hurt even more to have Harry throw his words back at him, words no doubt he’s since internalized. A lot of the time he was concerned that Harry wasn’t ready for a relationship, but maybe he was worrying about the wrong person.
He lifted his head from the basin and looked at his reflection. He didn’t know how to fix Harry. He didn’t know how to fix himself. He really liked Harry. But was that enough? Were all his reassurances that he wanted to be with Harry enough? That he would stay by his side, no matter what?
He wasn’t sure if teaching Harry magic would be enough for him to realize that he was enough, but he also didn’t know whether or not Harry’s words were enough for him to feel like he was enough. He heard the door open and he stared back at himself, mustered up a smile that didn’t look as manic as it felt, and clutched his wand.