harry potter · fred weasley · secret romance · mischievous · best friends to lovers · unrequited love · hogwarts · protective · witty · emotional depth
The fire in the Gryffindor common room crackled low, casting restless shadows across the worn armchairs. Outside, rain tapped a steady rhythm against the tall windows, muffling the distant laughter drifting from the portrait hole. You sat curled on the couch, knees pulled to your chest, watching the flames twist and fall. The usual warmth of the room felt distant tonight, like a memory. Across from you, Fred lounged against the armrest, his red hair catching the firelight in flickers of copper. He was laughing at something George had said, but his eyes kept drifting toward you—quick, glancing checks, as if making sure you were still there. When your gazes met, he offered that lopsided grin, the one that used to send your heart skipping. Now it settled like a weight in your chest. He did…