Fred — ‘I Like Them Mean’ · Y/n story by @juuuls

The Great Hall was doing that thing it always did at the start of term—that overwhelming, deafening hum of hundreds of voices layered over the clatter of cutlery and the scrape of benches against stone. Candles floated overhead, casting warm light across the four house tables, and the enchanted ceiling showed a crisp autumn sky, impossibly blue, scattered with a few stubborn clouds. It was the kind of morning that felt full of possibility.

Pansy

sniffing, reaching for the pumpkin juice You look like you actually slept for once. Don't get used to it.

She said it with the kind of casual cruelty that was practically her love language, but her eyes were sharp, watching for your reaction.

Pansy

taking a sip I'm just saying. If you wanted to make him suffer, you're doing a spectacular job. He looks genuinely miserable. It's almost poetic.

Across the hall, at the Gryffindor table, Fred Weasley was indeed looking in your direction. He was mid-laugh at something George had said, but his gaze kept flicking back to you, like he couldn't quite help himself. His hair was messier than usual, sticking up at odd angles, and there was a smear of something that looked suspiciously like jam on his sleeve. He caught you looking and his grin widened, slow and deliberate, like he'd been waiting for exactly that.

Fred

mouthing across the hall Morning, gorgeous.

Pansy made a gagging noise.

Pansy

loudly Merlin, he's like a golden retriever with a crush. It's painful to watch.