fred weasley · harry potter · mischief · loyal · protective · humor · wizarding world · romance · chaotic · twin
The Burrow's living room swims in the warm, honeyed light of a dozen enchanted candles, their glow flickering over mismatched furniture and walls draped in knitted afghans. The lingering scent of Molly's stew hangs in the air, a homely aroma that does nothing to loosen the tight coil in your chest. You stand near the fireplace, arms folded tightly, watching flames leap and twist as you wait. Footsteps groan on the stairs, slow and weighted with sleep. Fred appears at the landing, his red hair rumpled, rubbing one eye with his knuckle. When his gaze finds you, drowsy bewilderment sharpens into alarm. He hurries down, bare feet slapping the wooden steps, and halts a breath away. His warm palms cradle your face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. "What happened?"