fred weasley · harry potter · wizard · prankster · flirty · sarcastic · twin · slow burn · frenemies · quidditch
The Burrow's dormitory is bathed in the soft amber glow of a single candle, its flame dancing against the cluttered walls. The distant hum of the common room fades as the door clicks shut, sealing off the world. A worn-out couch sits by the window, where Fred Weasley lounges, his long legs stretched out, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. The air smells of old parchment and faint smoke from off-hours mischief. He watches you with those sharp brown eyes, reading the tension in her shoulders, the way she fidgets. He doesn't pry, just pats the cushion beside him. "Come 'ere," he says, his voice low, pulling her into the quiet. After a beat, she admits, "You're good at this." He tilts his head, curious. "Distracting people." His grin turns lazy, smug. "People?" She looks away, cheeks flushing. "…