Harry Potter x Reader Oneshots - All Generations

Fred Weasley x Skylar

(A/N This is totally out of order, and I'm sorry to the people who haven't had their requests yet because I'm a total procrastinator, but I suddenly got this idea and this request was the one that it happened to work with. Nontheless, please do continue reading, and I hope you enjoy it! If you see a picture above, please ignore it. It's there by mistake and I can't remove it.)

Requested by: dreamcatcher699

Fred stepped out of The Burrow lazily, stumbling slightly as his tired eyes tried to find the rotting wooden steps. He stretched his arms to the horizons on either side of him, enjoying the sight of the empty expanse surrounding him. The corn fields stood high and wavered in the wind, but weren't enough to obscure his sight of the glowing sky. His blurry eyes did the job instead. He groaned and squinted, trying to be patient as he waited for the stinging in the back of his eyes to subside. When he could no longer stand the burning light in his eyes, he retreated back into the dark Burrow.

Molly Weasley hummed a sweet song with a sweet smile as she sipped her bitter coffee. Her song was interrupted for only a moment as her face twisted sourly and she reached over the counter to pour more cream into her mug. She smiled contently after another sip of the beverage and let it warm her hands as she quietly stood in the kitchen. She looked about the Burrow, striding from room to room to assure herself that everything was in order. The Living Room was tidy and lavender hung from the banisters with a sweet scent in preparation for the guests that would be arriving in the coming weeks. With the school year ending, many children beyond just her children were flocking to the large home. She gave the room another sweep with her eyes, landing instantly on the tall clock against the wall. All the hands, each for her children individually, were clustered to one side of the clock face. Charlie and Bill were out of the country, Arthur with Bill, Ginny and Ron and George were all at various market places. The three had left early in the morning to collect all the items on their individually long lists that Molly had had written. She set her mug down and cleared her throat. Only one hand was not where it belonged.

"Fred Fabian Wealsey!" She screamed towards the spiraling stairs where she knew Fred was hiding.

He cringed and leaned over the banister with a forced polite smile. Even from so high above, his mother looked as intimidating as ever. "Yes?"

"You're meant to be out shopping," Molly said, still yelling to reach her far away son.

Fred did not protest. His head disappeared from over the banister, and she waited patiently with her mug at the bottom of the steps. When he came back down, she silently checked that he had the list and money. Both carelessly stuffed in his back pocket. He didn't look at her, but could feel her eyes as she watched him climb into the fireplace. Satisfied, she sat back down. She no longer looked at him, and instead at the clock face and waited for his to swing across to the marker labelled Diagon Alley.

Mrs. Weasley could finally comfortably settle into her home, enjoying the silence while it lasted. The chores could be done later, for now she could sit and eat breakfast. Fred on the other hand, was finding himself increasingly uncomfortable. The stores were loud and packed with people, none of whom he knew. His arms filled up with bags and boxes of various items his mother had put on the list, some of which he couldn't think of a reason his mother would need them.

When it felt like his arms were going numb, and the hot sun beat on the back of his neck, he was only halfway through the list. He hoped, almost prayed, the heavy stuff had been at the beginning. He could not take twice of the weight he already had. He considered sending the items he already had back to his mother then returning to the rest of the shopping. He smiled to himself, enjoying the very idea of having this weight lifted off of him. He made for the fire places at the edge of the market, struggling to pass through the crowd of people gathering for lunch. He was nearly pushed over by the crowd when he stopped at the sound of a familiar accent. He stepped to the side of the wave of people, searching for the familiar Irish girl who's voice travelled so clearly through the monotone chatter of unfamiliar people.