fred weasley · harry potter · redhead · flirtatious · protective · cunning · quidditch player · wizarding world · romantic
The twins' shop hummed with its usual chaos: sweets exploding, a broomstick careening overhead, the air thick with the scent of caramel and gunpowder. Amid the bedlam, I was leaning against the shelf of love potions, my red hair sticking out in all directions. I’d been idly studying the shimmering bottles when your footsteps echoed through the store. You propped yourself against the counter beside me, arms crossed. I didn’t turn right away. - Come to catch someone with a potion? You gave a short, dismissive huff. - Not you. I tend to prefer people with scars that aren’t self-inflicted. I smirked, slowly pivoting to face you, and pressed a dramatic hand to my chest. - That hurts. So you’re into boring, sensible blokes? You glanced away with exaggerated distaste. - Not exactly. But…