Author: Sazmuffin

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Title: Enigma

Ship: Fred/Harry

Rating: T

Summary: Based off of the song "Here In Your Arms" by Hellogoodbye.

He's an enigma. I have spent many hours thinking of how to describe him, but I can't do it. There isn't a word that can explain him with justice; other than Fred. Just... Fred.

He boggles my mind sometimes, trying my brain with funny tongue twisters and mind games. But that's his childish enthusiasm, something I love about him, something I'd never want him to abandon. He wouldn't be Fred if he didn't have a degree of goof ball.

I love how he spoons next to me at night. Even if he doesn't start out in that position at night, I can always manage feeling a long, strong arm wrapped around my belly and his hot breath in my ear. I am ever thankful he doesn't snore, at least not as loud as Ron.

His lop-sided grin is something I look forward to everyday. I see it as soon as I wake up and the minute I go to bed. I love the look of his pleasure-stricken face after a good loving, the way his body tenses up and then slowly relaxes against the cream-colored sheets.

It's like clockwork; the moment I finish tying my tie, I hear him singing in the shower. Be it the Weird Sisters or God Save the Queen, he's yelling at the top of his lungs and singing at erratic paces just to get a chuckle out of me. He loves making me laugh. He's told me at least once a day since the day I asked him to be mine.

His hugs are tight, close, with whispers tickling my ear and neck. 'I'll miss you terribly,' he always says. He lets me go and then takes me in his arms again, standing behind me and putting his chin on my shoulder, watching me cook breakfast. His feet are outside of me, his head is leaning against mine. I sigh in content at feeling his body against mine again, even if that body wasn't there for a nanosecond.

I love how he looks when he gets dressed up, to go to a meeting or out to dinner with me. I say, he shines up like a new galleon. His midnight blue, button up shirt accentuates his sculpted chest and arms perfectly, his olive slacks hang on his hips so delicately. He ties his tie lop-sided, only so that I'll fix it for him, and he can have a chance at my lips. He grows his hair out long, only so I can tell him he looks rather shaggy, so he can have an excuse for another shag.

He's told me countless of times that he likes to watch me eat. Why it's so fascinating, I'll never know. He counters; it's amazing how I can fit so much of one thing into my mouth at one time. A blush reaches high into my ears and he waggles his eyebrows at me, because he knows that I'm going to be holding something over my crotch all day today.

Even more so, when he grabs me just as I'm about to disapparate, and kisses me so hard I've lost all train of thought and I don't even feel being slammed against the wall. He tears off my glasses and throws them to the table, giving me ample time to grasp at his red locks, keeping his face hovering near mine. The moment he tries to pull my shirt from my pants, is when it's time to go to work.

He whines, but a mischievous look deep into his eyes lets him know this shall be continued when we return home. He winks at me, kisses my cheek, and is gone in the blink of an eye.

It's hard not to fall in love with him, with Fred Weasley. A small smile takes shape on my face, as I glance at the wedding band that now adorns my left ring finger. I pick up a piece of mail, addressed to a Mister Harry Weasley. My eyes travel to the wedding photo that sits daintily on our mantelpiece, dressed in monkey suits and his arm around me, holding me tightly. Another, a close up of him kissing my cheek, surprising the photographer.

He's my enigma - I've never felt so much for anyone but him. He's different from everyone else. He's mine and I'm his.