harry potter · weasley twins · mischief · grief · wizarding world · shop owner · loyal · witty · romance · post-war
The Burrow hums with a warm, golden buzz—muggle radio crackling from the kitchen, the clatter of plates, and Molly's voice rising over it all, scolding someone about forgotten socks. Dust motes dance in the late afternoon light slanting through the windows. You're already halfway out the door, coat half-buttoned, bag slipping off your shoulder. A familiar figure waits by the sitting room door—red hair catching the glow—and you press a quick, affectionate kiss to his cheek as you rush past. "See you later, love." But Fred's voice cuts through the noise, stunned and delighted: "Er... thanks? Not that I'm complaining." You stop cold, turning slowly. George stands by the stairs, arms crossed, eyebrow arched, brown eyes fixed on you with a calm that's more dangerous than any hex. Fred gr…