8079 DAYS OF FRED WEASLEY
DAY 1 ---
Angelina Weasely is in the delivery room of St. Mungo's Hospital, screaming bloody murder. Her husband, the loyal, the hard-working, the nervous wreck, George Weasley, stands at her side, his eyes wide with horror. He is twenty-two years old, his poor wife only a few months older than him and he is scared shitless. He never thought this would happen. He never thought that he would even get married at nineteen, right after graduating from Hogwarts but fate has a funny way with toying with a man. And here he is, standing next to the woman he has been in love with since he was thirteen and she is screaming that she is going to kill him after she is done with this "fucking mess" and refuses to sleep with him ever again. This thoughts horrify him and as she practically rips his hand off with another forceful contraction. This has been happening for ten hours now, ten hours of labor and he is convinced that he is going to die before his son, a son whose name he hasn't even decided on yet, is born into the world. His vision is becoming blurred and he glances around, nervously, as if looking for help, an answer, anything to save him from having his hand ripped off. And, then, suddenly, her grip loosens. His darling, or at least formerly darling before this whole entire labor incident, wife issues one last, piercing scream from her throat before the healer, a woman who is somehow not frazzled by today's events, holds a small, blood covered being who may be his son or an alien in the air (at this point, George is just glad that this trouble is over.) "Congratulations. A beautiful baby boy," the nurse says, handing the child to a nearby healer who quickly cleans him, yes, him, not an alien, off and hands him to Angelina who is beaming, albeit covered in sweat. She looks over at her husband, the twenty-two year old boy who has grown into a man before her eyes and says, "George, this is Fred Arthur Weasley. He's your son." And, as she holds the little bundle out to him and he grasps it, as if his arms were made to hold this small little being, he cannot help but smile, tears of happiness streaming down his face.
"Hi Freddie. I'm your dad." And, with that, Fred's life begins.
DAY 60 ---
It is Fred's, now dubbed Freddie forever, two month birthday. His mother stands over him, grinning widely as the sun beams through the window of the small cottage they live in. She is taking in details on her young son's face that are just beginning to form. The bright blue eyes, the bright blue eyes that have existed on the faces of her husband's family, the Weasleys since the 1700's when the Scandinavian entered their veins, along with their good looks. She admires the gentle slope of his nose, a nose that she saw on her father-in-law a couple nights back when he came over to meet his grandson for the first time. She grins when she notices his lips, her lips and her smile, an she kisses these lips over and over and over again, relishing in the soft scent of his hair, a scent she hopes he retains his whole life. She giggles when noticing how large his ears are, like her husband's and she grins even more when she runs a hand through his crimson locks. These are the moments that Anfelina adores and treasures. While her husband is at work at his Shop, Weasleys' Wizarding Weazes, she stays at home with her son, the love of her life, second after her husband, of course. She presses one final kiss to his forehead and says, "I hope you end up getting my family's good looks. Your father's family has a tendency to look like trolls."
DAY 800 ---
"Freddie, I have someone for you to meet." A two year old Fred stands in his mother's room at St. Mungo's, disgruntled. His arms are crossed across his chest and a frown is evident on his lips as he peers down at the little bundle in his mother's arms. His twenty-four year old father, now a man who has experienced more than most thirty year olds, places his hand on his son's head and sighing. He understands the frown on his son's face and understands why he is less than excited about the little bundle that is sitting in his mother's arms. "Her name is Roxanne," his mother offers, in attempt to bring her oldest son closer to his new sister but Fred remains stagnant, refusing to move. The little bundle blinks at the scene occurring around him. "I don't like her," Fred finally says, his new voice, a voice that is constantly being echoed throughout the Weasleys' household, ringing through the room before he storms out. George remains in the room, his hands in his pockets, milling around awkwardly. His wife glares at him. "I think that went very well," he offers, after an uncomfortably long silence.
DAY 2273 ---
"ROXANNE. LEAVE TUPPERS ALONE," Fred Weasley yells, standing protectively in front of his new puppy with a defiant grin on his face. He is now Fred Weasley, the protector, the hero of little doggies everywhere. Their father sits on their porch, smoking a cigarette, amused by the scene unfolding before him in the backyard of their small cottage. It's a Sunday morning, one of his few days off work and he is spending it surrounded by his two small children, Freddie and Roxxy. There is Freddie, the oldest and the loud troublemaker who never seems to shut up. There is Roxanne, the stereotypical younger sister who just wants to play with her brother's new toy. And then there is Tuppers, the new pupppy who is coddled endlessly by his 'eldest brother' who has taken on the role as his protector. George chuckles at the defiant expression on his eldest son's face as he pushes Roxanne defiantly, the puppy Tuppers sitting behind him, hopelessly confused while he tilts his head. Their mother, who usually puts a stop to this behavior, is in the kitchen, cleaning, and staring at the window. "GEORGE FUCKING DO SOMETHING, YOU TWIT," she yells loudly, throwing a sponge at his head through the open window. George, used to this violence from his loving wife, motions toward their children, so caught up in their own drama that they are clueless to that occurring between their own parents. Besides, yelling is common in the Weasley house, often coming from at least eight different directions. "Our son is trying to be a hero," he mouths as Fred pushes his sister down and wraps his new puppy protectively in his arms and struggles to drag him away from Roxxy, only causing her to scream and cry loudly. "WILL YOU DO SOMETHING NOW? HE'S SCABBING UP HER KNEES SOMETHING AWFUL." George sighs at his wife's words and gets up, putting out his cigarette in the dish sitting on the chair's arm and walks over to break up the fight. But, as he drags the instigator away, he pats him on his head, encouragingly. Fred Weasley's hero complex is born.
DAY 3521 ---
Fred Weasley is standing in front of his great-grandfather's bed in a muggle hospital. Lennox Johnson has lived one hundred and eight long years and is finally beginning to see the end of his days. Angelina, beside herself with tears, sits next to her grandfather, clutching his hand tightly, George standing by her side. He places a comforting hand on her shoulder. He has never been particularly comfortable around her family. They haven't recovered from their daughter getting married at seventeen and giving birth to their first grandchild at age twenty. His mother-in-law occasionally glances at him out of the corner of her eye as if to say, "this is all your fault." Nine year old Fred stands beside six year old Roxanne, presenting a strong front before his sibling. His eyes are watering. He feels a sob building up in her throat but he refuses to cry. He refuses to let anyone know that he is hurting. He is the oldest Weasley child and that comes with responsibilities, responsibilities that involve being strong with his sibling. He loves his great-grandfather. He loves him more than words can say. He is eccentric and always has a smile on his face, especially for Fred. It has been stated numerous times that Fred is growing to look a great deal like Alastor, a fact that is the elephant in the room as he lays there, dying. It was revealed yesterday that Fred was gifted with magical abilities and somehow, because of this, he feels responsible for his great-grandfather's death. If he hadn't made that balloon blow up, maybe his great-grandfather wouldn't have been so shocked and then, maybe, he wouldn't have ended up on his death bed at one hundred and eight. One hundred and eight........ Fred takes a step toward Alastor and places a small, spindly hand onto a wrinkled, decrepit one and finally lets one sob go, his eyes closed as he whispers "I'm sorry." His great-grandfather turns slightly and smiles at him, as if to say that this isn't his fault and that he is doing a good job of being strong for his sibling. And then, he breathes his final breathe.
Fred promises himself that that will be the last time he cries.
DAY 4195 ---
"FREDDIE. DON'T FORGET TO BLOODY WRITE OR ELSE I WILL COME TO HOGWARTS MYSELF AND DRAG YOUR ARSE HOME!" George Weasley's dulcet tones ring through Platform 9 and 3/4. Freddie turns bright red, managing a half-hearted wave at his family before walking onto the Hogwarts Express. His heart is beating in his ears as he walks through the train, searching for an empty compartment. He finds one and sits down, his ears turning bright red. Slowly, his compartment fills with similarly frightened and horrified first years. They make small talk, confide their fears in each other, and then, when the train comes to a stop, they leave for the long trek across the lake. Other students are frightened but, in the face of physical danger, Fred Weasley is fearless. This he can deal with. The idea of having to make all new friends and live a whole new life is horrifying. Before he knows it he is walking in to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Eyes follow him wherever he goes, the eyes of the older students, taking in the fresh meat. His heartbeat quickens. He sees the stool before him, the stool that thousands of wizards have sat upon before him, the stool that has helped decide their fate. Fred spots domique sitting with her small group of friends, they wave and she blows a kiss. Fred's mood is elated. Hours seem to pass while he waits for Weasley to be called. Finally, after what seems like years, his name is called. He begins the long ascent to the front of the Great Hall, thousands of pairs of eyes on him. Finally, he reaches the stool and he sits down, waiting for the hat to be placed on his head. "So, you're a hero, I see. Well, I know just the place for you. GRYFFINDOR!" Fred breathes a sigh of relief.
DAY 4865 ---
He is not the brightest nor the most handsome nor the best at quidditch but he sure knows how to make people laugh. That is what everyone says about Fred Weasley II. He stands on the grounds of Hogwarts, running a hand through his fiery hair as he makes a crowd of his mates laugh uncontrollably. That Fred Weasley, he always has a smile on his face. He glances around the grounds, looking for the only person whose laugh truly matters to him, the girl he is infatuated with. She's a Ravenclaw, one of those delicious know-it-alls that drive him mad. She is standing a ways off, smiling at him with that half-smile of hers. He grins at her, oblivious to the words the gang of friends gathering around him, eager for another joke. He gently pushes them out of the way, his eyes still on her. He has a certain swagger about him, the walk of a man who thinks that he is bigger, more important, than he really is. He flashes her his grin and finally makes his way over to her. Her gaggle of friends parts for him. They know what is going to happen. "I saw you looking at me," he says, smirking. She laughs, shaking her head. "Oh, Weasley. You've become rather observant lately, haven't you? I didn't think your tiny brain could handle that since it is completely consumed with dirty jokes and half-brained plans to get me to go on a date with you." He loves this, this biting banter back and forth. He grins at her before saying, "and that is where you are wrong, my dear. My 'tiny brain' is completely consumed with half-brained plans to get you to go on a date with you. So, how about it? Next Hogesmeade visit? I'll bring myself and you'll bring your fine self and we'll have a grand old time?"
She giggles and blushes, unable to control herself. He takes that as a yes.
DAY 5576 ---
He can't place why.... But he doesn't love her anymore. As she stands before him, smiling, asking him what he thinks of her new dress, he can't even muster up a half-hearted answer. He manages it and returns to his thoughts. A cigarette between his lips, he takes a drag off of it as he looks upon the girl he thought was his everything, who he has been dating for two years. Two years. His life has been hers for two years and her life his and now he is considering throwing all of that away. Another drag off of his cigarette. They don't challenge each other anymore. They don't bicker, they don't banter, they never tease each other. Instead, they just sit there, acting like a regular couple and actually seem to enjoy each other's company.... He hates it. He wants the challenge, the fight, and the arguments that they used to have. Another drag off of his cigarette. Does he truly love her? If he did, would this change in their relationship not change anything? He couldn't place it, this feeling. Is it boredom? Or is it just the loss of love? She asks him if he is listening. He nods, dumbly, pretending to look engaged. But, at that very moment, the words tumble from his mouth.
"I don't think we should see each other anymore." And, with that, Fred Weasley's first relationship ends.
DAY 6407 ---
It's all over. Hogwarts is over. As he stands there, he cannot help but think that he has wasn't his time at Hogwarts, that he hasn't been good enough. He has gotten average grades, except for Arithmancy which he aced solely because he wanted to be a Cursebreaker. He had never been particularly popular. He had never been the ladies' man he always made himself out to be nor had he pulled the greatest prank of all time. In fact, his school experience had been amazingly average. He had had four girlfriends, two of which serious, and one of which stands a couple feet away from him. As he looks at her, he cannot help but think of her naked, on top of him. As pleasant of a thought as this might be, he quickly banishes it, knowing that such things should not be thought about when he is about to graduate and his whole family is sitting twelve rows away from them, smiling at him. Mum, Dad, Roxanne and the rest of the Weasley clan; all watching him graduate, become an adult. He sucks in a breathe, nervously, glancing around himself. This is the end. This is the end of his teenage-hood, the end of dicking around, the end of skipping class because he wanted to just smoke with his mates, and the end of not having to give a fuck about anything except having fun. He has a job now, a job he has to start training for in Egypt in two weeks. He has a flat now, having put the down payment on it with the help of his parents for as soon as he gets back from Egypt. He has his life laid out for him. Suddenly he hears his name called and he walks, walks into his future. Fred Weasley is no longer a boy. He's a man.
DAY 7235 ---
The England sun feels foreign to him after two years of the Egyptian one beating against his head. He misses the dry desert the minute he steps into the dreary streets of London. Sure, Freddie missed his family, his mates, and the life he had had in London but he loved the thrill of being in Egypt. He had taken to cursebreaking just like all of his professors expected he would, with gusto and that reckless bravado he approaches almost everything with. He lives for the thrill of almost dying, which he has at least ten separate times. After every event, he wrote his mother about it, causing her to threaten twenty three separate times to go to Egypt "right that damn minute" and drag him back home so that way he would never hurt himself again. He missed many major family occasions, his sister's graduations and his mother's fortieth birthday. He feels uncomfortable coming back, after missing so much. He is a changed man now, no longer the carefree, foolish boy who left for Egypt with a nervous grin on his face. He still jokes but there is something new about him, a certain air of confidence and pride that comes with experiencing adventures that his peers could only dream of. He has grown to think himself above England and dreariness it holds. He misses the heat, the constant threat of storm, the untamed wild, and unforgiving. It held the challenge he had sought after in every one of his romantic relationships, the mystery that he hungered for, and the danger that he could never find in England. Egypt was his mistress now and there was no going back. He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he has never rid himself of as he walks along the path to the flat that his mother has bought and furnished for him. He reaches it, frowning at how.... dull it seems. In Egypt he spent most of his nights in a tent, starring up at the stars. He walks along the cement steps and throws the door open, only to find an expected surprise, his whole family standing there, all grinning widely, anxious to hear about Egypt. His mother beams as she throws her arms around him, though she has to stand up on her tip-toes due to him now towering at over six feet. When his mother finally releases, not before remarking on how skinny he has become, his father approaches him, patting him on the shoulder, as he takes in the man his son has become. No longer pale and scrawny, Fred Weasley has taken on the lanky, muscular physique of his father and it is a fact he wears with pride. "Good to have you back," he says, smiling at his son. George Weasley had never been one for emotion, much like his son. Fred nods, grinning, and advances to his baby sister, no longer a baby at fifteen and throws his arms around her, taking in the woman she has become. He is home. Fred Weasley II is home.
DAY 7388 ---
People say that joining the Resistance is foolish but if there is anything that Fred is, it is foolish. He is impulsive, a giant nerve, forever doing whatever comes to his mind. The minute he hears about the Resistance he knows it is where he belongs. He waltzes into the meeting as if he belongs there, owns the place even. He glances around the room, anxious to see if there is anyone he knows. There is his sister, Roxanne, something that makes Fred proud. He nods at her before making his way through Headquarters, waving at everyone he knows and even some people he doesn't know. That is, until he sees her, the gentle blonde beauty in the middle of the room. She takes his breathe away. He has seen beautiful things. He has seen the Sphinx in Egypt, the beautiful tombs of Pharaohs, and the Nile River. He has witnessed the sun rising over the Mediterranean Sea and he has gazed upon the scattered oasis throughout the Sahara. But, he has never seen anything as beautiful as her. He stands there for a moment in shock. Never before in his life as he wanted something so badly, with every fiber of his being. He takes a step toward her, placing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it with a flick of his wand, in an attempt to make himself look cooler. He smiles at her, charmingly and says, "Hi. I'm Fred Weasley. What's your name, babe?" She looks up at him, a questioning look in his eyes. "Margaret Wood."
Freddie-boy falls in love.
WEASLEY, FRED ARTHUR
