Your relationship with Fred existed almost entirely within a broom cupboard. Occasionally you'd have a quiet walk near the lake, finding a sheltered spot to steal tender kisses. But for the most part, the two of you were happy to keep things hidden in a tiny room on the third floor, somewhere between a disused office and Classroom 14. You could never tell your friends you'd been meeting Fred Weasley in a broom closet - they'd jump to conclusions. But it wasn't like that. You were just two seventeen-year-olds, a Gryffindor and a Hufflepuff, who found a place to retreat from the darkening world and share your secrets. You thought you loved him, but only for a while. Still, you weren't about to object to kisses from someone like that, were you?

 
It all started in Defence class, as you were nodding off to the voice of Toadwoman...

~*~

Filch knocks on the door, urgently requesting the aid of Professor Umbridge. Satisfied that your class is reading silently, she leaves the room. As soon as the door clicks shut Fred Weasley turns in his chair to face you, holding a purple and white sweet in his palm.

"Here, have you got one of these? We're all taking them as soon as she gets back. Eat the purple end, and when she lets us all out of class, swallow the white part."

You look at him suspiciously, but he simply drops the thing on your desk and swivels back to his desk. His brother nods to him, apparently satisfied that the class is ready to do... whatever it is you're doing.

Students around you are biting off half of their pills and toffees, and you do the same, leaving it in your mouth. It's not like the Weasley twins would poison their classmates. Besides, they just took their own pills. You trust that they've got something good planned.

As soon as the Toad walks back into the room, you swallow. All around you, people are sprouting boils, fainting, turning green... "We have Umbridge-itis!" some of them are insisting. Toadwoman's going mad with rage. You hardly notice as everything goes dark...

You come to in a broom cupboard. Fred's sitting beside you, looking pleased with himself.

"Skiving Snackboxes!" he announces. "Worked like a dream. That one was a Fainting Fancy."

You don't know what he's on about. Whatever.

"Why," you ask, "are we in a broom cupboard?"

"Oh, I carried you out of class - not much point in making the whole class sick if we don't all get out of the lesson, eh? - and everyone else had scattered. Would've taken you into a classroom but I heard McGonagall coming, so... here we are," he finishes with a shrug, looking around the dusty cupboard. "Cosy, isn't it?"

He grins. Your heart melts.

You're laughing. His grin widens and he leans against the wall. You prop yourself up on the wall facing him, gasping for air.

You give him your name.

"I know! We are seventh years!"

"Okay. I just didn't know if you'd ever noticed me before."

"How could I not, with that beautiful laugh?" He's still smiling. You admire how relaxed and radiant his freckled face is. He has dimples, too, you notice.

"You're a charmer, Fred Weasley."

"Course I am."

"How do you it? Be so... cheery... all the time?"

His grin fades, and more than anything you want to find a way to get it back.

"I'll tell you a secret..." he says, checking the door's locked.  "It's sometimes an act."

"Really? You're not Fred the comedian, the class clown everyone knows and loves?"

"Course I am! The world needs laughter. But I'm not unaware of everything that's out there..."

Oh. You see what he's getting at.

"You think he's back?"

He nods, his eyes hollow. "Mm hmm. And it scares me. I know my whole family will fight him, and I can't see that we'll all survive. I'm not blind like Percy," he says bitterly.

You're by his side, an arm round his shoulder. "I get it. I'm scared too. I'd trust Harry Potter more than Umbridge, so I have to believe that You-Know-Who's back. But I don't want to believe it."

The pair of you sit there for ages, sharing your fears and dreams and worries. Finally you realise it's almost dinner time, and stretch out your stiff bodies.

Before you can unlock the door, Fred's in your way. Suddenly he's grinning again, and you're going weak at the knees as you realise how very close he is.

He brushes your lips with his, and the feeling, the taste, the warmth is tantalising. But it only lasts a second.

"Meet me at Hogsmeade this weekend?" he asks.

~*~ 
 

You already have plans this weekend with your friends, and for some reason, you don't want to tell them that you kissed Fred Weasley and now you're going to Hogsmeade with him instead.

So he, George and Lee meet you and your friends at the Broomsticks. The girls are clearly surprised when the Gryffindor boys slide into your booth, but they're not going to complain. Fi, always alert, narrows her eyes at the amicable banter you share with Fred, but Jem and Ally seem more interested in flirting. You spend the afternoon transfixed by Fred's easy grin, and when he leaves you feel like something's missing. How easily you become accustomed to his presence! Anxiety settles in your stomach, and you await the next time you can see him.

~*~

After Defence the next Tuesday, you're both walking in the same direction, and you notice the broom cupboard you spent that first afternoon in. You drop back from the other Hufflepuffs, squeeze his wrist as he passes and duck into the cupboard.

He follows, and as soon as the door is locked you wrap your arms around him and breath his warm scent. Your lips find his and for a minute you both stand there, melting into each other.

You keep your arms around each other and mumble all your concerns from the past few days. Another wizard was reported dead yesterday. The killing curse, of course. Every day it's becoming clearer and clearer that You-Know-Who is back.

Your arms are tight around Fred’s torso, and you wish that you could keep all your loved ones so close – that you could protect them, somehow, from what’s coming.

~*~

This soon becomes a routine, and you and Fred slip off more and more often to your secret space. You spend countless hours there sharing your fears and insecurities, describing your deepest hopes and dreams, comforting each other with a pair of warm arms and soft lips. That tiny room on the third floor becomes your shelter from the world.

For a while, you think this is what love is. He makes you laugh, he makes you feel safe, he knows you like no one else does.

But when you think about it, you decide that yes, you are attracted to him, and yes, you love him, but no, you are not in love with him. You share a deep bond – the bond of two people looking for someone to hold on to in dark times.

He and George, you think, are like two copies of one person. But you and Fred are complementary parts: different, yet you fit together, in body and in soul.

~*~ 
 

Your friend Fi becomes increasingly suspicious. You avoid her narrowed eyes and wary questions. Part of the reason being with Fred feels so safe is that it’s secret: when you’re together you are always alone, able to disconnect yourself from the real world.

~*~ 
 

One day he whispers that he’s leaving. An ice-cold feeling of loss fills your stomach. You nod numbly against his chest. Tears are threatening to spill from your eyes, and you hug him for as long as you can stand it before pressing your lips to his one last time and dashing from the broom closet.

The next day, you watch him fly from Hogwarts with George in a shower of fireworks, and you know that he’s doing what he needs to do.

~*~ 
 

The next year, you get a job in Diagon Alley, and you visit him regularly. He welcomes you warmly to his shop with the grin that makes you melt, and when no one is around he confesses how much he misses your laugh. He shows you his latest projects, his bizarre experiments and new marketing schemes.

You hold each other tight at the end of each visit: things are getting worse, and your fears are growing. Nothing is certain as a storm cloud looms on the horizon.

It finally hits with the force of a hurricane.

 ~*~

The storm has cleared now, but the damage it has caused will linger. You wander Hogwarts' crumbled halls and come across the broom cupboard. That broom cupboard where you shared your heart and soul with Fred. Tears drip down your cheeks and a hollow ache fills your stomach. Fred's dead. The words hurt.

You open the door. It's sticky, but you get in. The broom cupboard hasn't been touched by the fierce battle that raged in the school last night. You're thankful for that.

You shut the door, and you're in your old refuge once again. For a moment you can almost feel Fred's presence, but it's just a fleeting, haunting feeling, swept away like a whisper on the wind. Then you're alone in what was once a paradise. You curl up on the cold stone floor, and weep for what the war has torn away from you.