AN: This is my drabble for a 3-part entry for the 2011 Mew & Mor's Weird Pairings Challenge! at forum(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/topic/44309/45757776/1/

I do not own Harry Potter, I'm just a fan-girl :) Enjoy!

It was four years ago today I was ripped from his arms.

Sitting alone in my flat, our short summer together is all I can ever think about. The afternoons lying on Uncle George's old bed, tangled in Freddie's arms. His scent of gunpowder and ash filling my lungs with every breath; our dark red hair bleeding together over the small pillow. When I close my eyes, I can still feel his soft lips ghost over my face.

We were in love. But what did we really know of love? I was 15, he 16. Both so young, but it didn't matter. Nothing existed outside that warm, cramped room.

He was my first. We waited for a day in early August when the rest of the family took a trip into London and we somehow made excuses to stay at the Burrow. After we were sure they weren't coming back for a while, he took my hand and slowly led me up the stairs to our sanctuary. That room never felt so far away. He sat me down on the edge of the bed and softly kissed my neck, unbuttoning my shirt as my hands found his hair.

As our clothes were tossed carelessly to the floor, my heart raced. I couldn't believe it was really happening! He eased me onto my back, hovering over me before he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. I love you. A whisper so soft I almost didn't hear it. A soft smile tugged at my mouth as I said it back. His lips met mine and swallowed my soft cry as he slipped inside me. He kissed away the small tear that fell down my cheek. He was so gentle and held me close to his chest when it was over.

It wasn't until several weeks later that we were caught. We got sloppy. Everyone had gone out again, leaving us in the house alone. We were lying on that tiny bed again, naked under a thin sheet, asleep together. Neither of us woke until Mum's screams echoed through the room. As I tried to cover myself, Dad and Uncle George came running through the door. Dad took one look at me and fainted in the doorway. His brother had to climb over him to get to Freddie, who was desperately trying to shield me as I pulled on my jeans, tears streaming down my face.

By now, the whole of the Weasley Clan was standing in the doorway; watching as Uncle George punched Fred in the jaw, causing him to fall back onto me, pinning me to the bed. My uncle grabbed his son by his scruffy hair and pulled him from the room, his voice booming over everyone else.

The disgust. The shame. The horror.

Mum quickly pulled me downstairs after them, stepping over Dad as Grandma tried to wake him. Out into the yard we went, a small group behind us, to find Uncle George standing over Fred. Blood gushed from Freddie's nose and I pushed myself away from my mother, running to his side as his own mum tried to calm his father. I held his face to mine as I sobbed out that I loved him, that I will always love him. I begged him to find me. I promise. I kissed him, tears mixing with blood, before someone pulled me away from him. I screamed out his name as Mum disapparited me home.

A couple weeks later, I went back to Hogwarts. I heard he was sent to Beauxbatons for his last two years, but didn't return home after he graduated. No one heard from him. When he didn't come find me, I tried to move on. But I couldn't make it through a full date without his face haunting me. I moved into a small flat in downtown muggle London. No one ever came to visit me. I had become a black mark on the family tree.

That was why it was so strange for someone to come knocking at my door so late at night. I was half awake on my couch when the rapping jolted me from my coming slumber. I almost thought I dreamed it, but there it was again, more forceful this time. I set my forgotten book on the table and stretched, walking to the door. I couldn't believe my eyes when I opened it.

He found me.