How could he expect you not to be upset?

There was a war coming—everyone could feel it in the tightening air between corridors, in the way professors spoke a little too carefully, in how laughter never quite reached the same pitch it used to. And still, Fred had left like it was nothing.

Fred and George Weasley had walked out of Hogwarts as though it were just another prank, another brilliant idea. Off to build their joke shop, their future, their escape. Like it didn’t matter what they were leaving behind.

Like you didn’t matter.

And maybe that was the worst part of it.

You were still here. Still a student. Still waiting to graduate a year behind him, still stuck in the same castle where everything reminded you of him—empty corridors where he used to pull you into dumb kisses, staircases where he’d make you laugh when you were trying not to, common rooms that felt too loud without him in them.

And now he was gone. Practically dropped out.

“I don’t understand how you’re holding this over my head,” Fred said, voice sharp but controlled as he stood on the opposite side of the room.

The distance between you was ridiculous. Intentional. Loud in its silence.

You didn’t move from where you sat on his bed. “I’m not holding anything over your head,” you said flatly. “You left, Fred. What part of that are you not getting?”

His jaw tightened. “I didn’t leave you.”

“You did, though,” you cut in immediately, calm in that dangerous way he’d learned meant you were seconds away from snapping. “You left Hogwarts. You left everything. And I’m still here.”

“I’m doing this for us,” he insisted, like it should’ve fixed everything.

“For us?” You let out a short, humourless breath. “Or for you and George?”

That hit. You saw it in the flicker across his face.

“So what?” Fred shot back, pushing a hand through his hair, frustration spilling now. “You’re just going to sulk about it? Punish me for trying to build something for our future?”

“It’s not punishment,” you said, voice steady but edged. “It’s consequences.”

He scoffed, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Blimey. You’re actually serious right now.”

“You’re acting like this was some mutual decision,” you continued, leaning forward slightly. “Like we sat down and agreed you’d disappear off to go play businessman while I stay here and wait around like a right mug.”

Fred went still at that.

“We’re dating,” he said after a beat, quieter now, like it should’ve meant something obvious. “You know that, yeah? We made a pact—no matter what, we stick together.”

The words hung there.

Heavy. Uncomfortable.

Across the room, neither of you moved. And for the first time since he’d left, it didn’t feel like distance was just physical.