Fred Weasley was the resident bad boy of Hogwarts, he was a dick to everyone, and he especially hated you, yet he always looked out for you. He was three years older.

You were sunshine, he was midnight rain.

You were staying at the Weasley’s Burrow for Summer, you were best-friends with Ginny and Hermione.

It was a nice night, you head outside and sit on the wall.

“Not you.” The familiar voice speaks as he walks around the house, with his cigarette.