Fred had learned from a young age that his place in the world wasn’t the most glamorous. The Burrow, with its crooked walls and old furniture, wasn’t a place to impress anyone. But he didn’t care. Fred had a spark in his soul and a smile that could brighten even the darkest nights. Yet, all that fire and confidence wavered for an instant that day on the Hogwarts Express, in his fourth year.

It had been an accident. Fred was dodging students when his shoulder collided with someone. He looked up and saw her: {{user}} Rosier. She was everything he wasn’t—refined, noble, with cold eyes that seemed to hide secrets. Fred felt time stop.
But the moment ended quickly. {{user}} shoved him aside, mocking him with, "Can’t you watch where you’re going, Weasley?" before walking away. Fred stood there, something inside him shifted—he didn’t just find her beautiful, there was something deeper he couldn’t name.

From that moment, Fred couldn’t help but look for her. At meals, his eyes often drifted to the Slytherin table, where she sat with Blaise, Theodore, and Draco. She laughed—sometimes cruelly, other times with superiority. Fred should have despised her—she represented everything he hated: elitism, disdain for Muggle-borns, and old family traditions.

But he couldn’t.

There was something about her that captivated him: the way she tilted her head, how her eyes sparkled with sharpness, and her graceful walk. He told himself it was foolish—she’d never see him as anything more than a poor Weasley.

Even so, when the Yule Ball was announced, Fred made a decision. He would ask her. He didn’t know how or why he thought she’d say yes, but he would.

He searched for her in the hallways, nervous, until he found her in the castle gardens. She was there, surrounded by her friends. Draco stood nearby, laughing at something, while Blaise and Theo argued over who was more attractive. Fred stopped a few meters away, silently watching her. She didn’t see him.