Weasley Twins Oneshots & Imagines

Tongue Tied (F.W.)

Fred Weasley normally doesn't even try this hard to impress someone—or anyone, for that matter.

But as of late, he's been racking his brain and planning some over-the-top prank only to catch your attention—the shy, sweet Gryffindor girl who seems to have caught his eye when he found you, late one evening, sneaking out of the portrait hole in the common room.

"Where're you off too late?" he asked cheekily. "Shouldn't you be asleep?"

You thought about this, not sure if you should respond, but then decided it'd be best to just tell him the truth—guys like him would do their best to find out, anyway. His heart soared when he realized that you already knew a bit about him, "You're not the only one who sneaks to the kitchens to grab a late night snack."

He'd always found you pretty; perhaps, maybe you were the prettiest girl Gryffindor had even seen. And now, knowing that the pretty girl in Gryffindor tower also tends to break the rules from time to time, he finds himself head over heels.

Since that moment, he's been focused on one thing and one thing only—get you to notice him. Or, at least, get you two talking.

But why is it, he asks himself, that the one time he wants to impress you with some type of outrageous ordeal, it's the one he gets caught doing? Although, he admits to his twin later that evening, replacing some classroom entrances with biting doorknobs in the hopes that Malfoy or one of his cronies gets their fingers sliced off was probably going a little bit too far—especially when Filch is on the receiving end of it. Even George can agree on that.

McGonagall grabs a fistful of Fred's robes and pushes him toward the stairs with George on her other side. "You've given me no choice, Mr. Weasley. My office, Saturday morning—detention."

"C'mon, Professor—" Fred says, craning his neck over the crowd to try and find you, "We were just having a laugh—we would've stopped someone anyway before it got too far, promise!"

The Headmistress cocks her head to the side and folds her arms across her chest. "Saturday, the both of you."

The crowd begins to roar with raucous laughter as Fred and George bask in all their glory on the staircase, fellow Gryffindors and students from other houses cheering for them despite their upcoming weekend in detention. And then he sees you—pressed against the wall near the entrance of the Great Hall, standing beside some statue, trying not to be noticed, but watching the both of them with—is it admiration, or confusion, perhaps? He just hopes it isn't disgust. Fred can't read your expression over the crowd, and it's killing him. The students begin to disperse, and when he finally makes his way through the sea of people to where you're standing, you're already gone.

He finds himself worried now, which is, to say the least, very unlike him. Fred Weasley? Worried? The word isn't even in his day to day vernacular. But has this very funny—albeit, sort of stupid—prank gone over the top? Was it a bit too much? Has he scared away the shy girl he was trying so desperately to pursue, and he didn't stop to think about his actions?

He follows his twin begrudgingly back to class.

"You two really could've caused severe damage," Hermione tells them later at the feast, "people have gone to St. Mungo's for treatment after being on the receiving end of a biting doorknob! You're lucky McGonagall only gave you—"

"Oi, give it a rest, Hermione," Ron says and she turns a bright shade of pink, "they were only having a laugh, weren't they?"

Fred slumps back in his seat, picking at the food on his plate. "Who's idea was this, anyway?" Ginny pipes up.