Small Harry Potter was quick to walk into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom 5 minutes before he was suppose to meet Fred. He was also quick to look in the mirror, and try to flatten his wild nest of black hair.

Wincing, he just ruffled it all up again with his palm. Giving up.

"What're you doing?" Moaning Myrtle asked, her voice slightly hoarse from sobbing.

Harry gave her a small smile. "I'm waiting here, for a. . . Friend? I'm sorry. I should have consulted you. I hope you don't mind." He politely apologized, his face heating up with a blush as his slim fingers intertwined. His hands locking themselves together, holding the other as Harry started to twiddle his thumbs.

Myrtle, who had looked a little taken aback from Harry's apology, merely nodded. She herself made no other verbal responses afterwards.

Harry froze soon after, hearing the faint sound of footprints.

"Hello? Harry?" He heard Fred call out softly, his voice projecting loudly as it echoed off the walls.

Harry smiled widely.

"H-hi Fred." He stammered pitifully.

Fred gave him a matching smile, his smile soon turning into a large– toothy– grin.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Fred questioned, both sitting on the bathroom floor. Neither caring about how dirty their robes would get, or the unsanitariness. 

"I want to get to know you better." Harry stated confidently, trying to ignore how much his heart longed to kiss the older Weasley kin. 

Fred cocked an eyebrow, but nodded. "Okay." He stated, "Where shall we start?" He asks, the redhead supporting his head with his palms. 

"Favorite movie?" Harry asks, unaware that Fred had never seen a movie.

"I've never seen one. I know what they are though. See, my dad is obsessed with Muggles, their technology, and how they live. I swear if he had the chance, he's become a Muggle!" Fred joked. Both laughing and smiling like idiots.

"My turn, first name you've been called other than your own?" 

Harry looked at him confused, but still smiling. "You mean a nickname?" The raven haired boy asked. Fred blushed lightly, but nodded. "Yeah, a nickname." Fred agreed.

Harry thought for a moment, thoughts returning to his childhood. His cupboard. The words. . .

"Freak." Harry whispered. 

Fred opening his mouth, gaping slowly at the nickname.

"Who called you freak?!" Fred exclaimed, angry.

Harry winced, but hesitantly answered. "The Dursleys. Mainly Uncle Vernon." 

Fred pulled him into a tight hug before any more words could be said. "You're not a freak." He whispered in his ear. "You're amazing." Fred stated softly. 

And with a kiss on the forehead, he left Harry. 

Alone in the bathroom, Myrtle watching from a distance. 

Hi

-Bridget