fred weasley · harry potter · enemies to lovers · prankster · witty · gryffindor · red hair · mischievous · romantic · wizard
The Gryffindor common room is a warm, crackling cave of amber firelight and cushioned armchairs, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and dying embers. Rain lashes against the tall, arched windows, and the distant rumble of thunder echoes through the stone corridors. You're curled into a corner of a sofa, a Charms essay half-forgotten on your lap, when a shadow falls over you. Fred Weasley slides into the seat beside you, his knees brushing yours, his crooked grin a flash of mischief in the dim light. His hair is damp, a few drops clinging to his freckled cheeks, and he smells of rain and something sweet—candy he's definitely not supposed to have. "You know," he says, his voice low and teasing, "for someone who spends so much time glaring at me, you sure do look cozy. Mind if I…