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fred weasley is laughter, laughter so infectious that you can’t help but join. wrinkles just around the eyes, built up from years of jokes. late nights in the common room, laying on top of friends, pretending to do homework. red hair, fingers constantly running through it.
lazy flicks of his wrist performing spells, sitting with one leg on top of the other, lifted up onto tables. rolling of brown eyes, biting at his lip, jaw shifted, obvious he’s holding back a laugh. rolled up sleeves, one higher than the other. hands constantly moving, unable to
rest for long, often found against his chin, pressing into his skin to try and crack the knuckles there. quidditch, determined expressions, cocky taunts at the other team, bruises in new places than ever before. arms around his teammates, hoisting them up onto his shoulders.
flirting even when it’s not intentional, though it often is intentional. brief raises of an eyebrow, suggesting something with his face that he chooses not to utter aloud. tilting his head to the side, lifting his chin up, acting as if he doesn’t care, and maybe he doesn’t, but
maybe he does. quick handwriting, letters neither too small nor too large, slight slant to each of them, decent amount of space between words, uneven lines. asking others for their homework, promising something in return, never getting turned down, he’s just too charismatic.
almost strutting down the halls, exchanging friendly greetings with those deemed worthy, smiling to those who matter most. pretending to hate affection but secretly loving every hug his mother squeezes him in to. being proud of his brothers, even though he’d never admit it, but
being even more proud of his sister, who he sees a little of himself in. being furious when his father is mocked, narrowing of the eyes, hands moving to form a fist, aware of his bad temper and simply choosing not to care. wanting to do anything for the ones he loves, regardless
of the personal cost. standing in front of them when they’re picked on, arms laid across their chest. insults to the aggressor, but reassuring words to his family when they’re left alone. arms around their shoulder, telling them that they really ought to learn to defend themself.
cedric diggory is soft expressions, polite smiles to most of those he interacts with. bigger smiles offered only to those he knows best, one that shows off the singular dimple he has on the left side. grey eyes widening when he hears something interesting, genuinely fascinated,
wanting to hear more, ready to be the best listener. nest handwriting, small and more full, both words and letters closer together. organized notes, separated by creative sections, easy to find what you’re looking for. the tree next to the black lake, leaning up against its trunk
and just relaxing, taking in the environment. grabbing one of his favorite books, in perfect condition, naturally. climbing up into the tree and positioning himself up in its branches. getting comfortable and opening to the first page, immersing himself in the story.
finishing up assignments days ahead of time, helping anyone who requests assistance. being patient to those who are struggling to grasp a concept, showing them the right way and being a wonderful teacher. it’s the soft voice, gentle and soothing to any person who hears it.
an underappreciated sense of humor, clearly seen by his closest friends but assumed otherwise by those who have never spoken to him. laughter that isn’t loud and obnoxious, but charming and endearing in a different way. hiding his mouth behind his hand to prevent others from
seeing his amusement, but cracking when someone else points out how obvious he is. being prefect and quidditch captain, and doing well with the pressure that comes with it. being embarrassed when too much praise is thrown his way, especially by the father he loves so much.
quietly bothered by the reputation around the school, wishing they knew the real him instead of making assumptions. hearing the phrase ‘pretty boy diggory’ and recognizing its qualities as both a compliment and an insult. wanting to do good in the world but not quite sure how.
both of them together, seen as an odd pairing, something to be stared at and looked at funny. cuddling by that tree cedric loves so much, the boy with the red hair relaxing in the others arms, discovering how much he loves having his hair played with.
trips to the library, one of them having to convince the other, it not being difficult to figure out which. trying to work on their school work, but fred keeps distracting cedric, resting his head on his shoulder, fingers reaching to trace along his jaw.
gentle kisses, fred smiling against cedric’s lips, unable to contain his excitement. thumbs running over cheekbones, stroking the skin delicately. holding on by the waist, pulling in closer, never wanting to let go. holding hands, fingers interlocked, squeezing tight, making
sure they know they have each other. fred teasing cedric, getting him to blush. cedric trying his best to hide it before fred leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek, deepening the scarlet color.
fred adoring every little detail about cedric, falling in love a little more each time he sees his smile. cedric talking more than he usual whenever he talks about fred, unable to stop himself. knowing that this is how it’s always meant to be, and nothing could change that.
