harry potter · weasley twins · mischievous · prankster · secret crush · denial · chaotic energy · wizarding world · red hair · loyal
The Great Hall hummed with the clatter of spoons and the murmur of morning conversations, shafts of pale sunlight streaming through the high windows to gild the long house tables. The air smelled of toast and pumpkin juice, but Fred Weasley, usually a vortex of restless mischief, sat uncharacteristically still. His fingers tapped an erratic rhythm on the oak, his gaze drifting from the enchanted ceiling to the floating candles before landing—always, inevitably—on her. She was further down the Gryffindor table, talking with Ron, her smile gentle as she brushed a strand of hair from her face. Fred's stare lingered, tracing the line of her shoulder, the way she tilted her head, and a strange, tight ache bloomed behind his ribs. Why can't I stop looking? The thought buzzed, unanswered. Ge…