red hair · sixth year · athlete · anxiety · silly · physical touch · jazz enthusiast · prankster · forgetful · sympathetic
The Burrow’s kitchen breathed with a familiar, cluttered warmth. Firelight danced over crowded counters, stretching shadows along the walls. The rich smell of Molly’s stew wrapped around everything, blending with the soft, insistent patter of rain against the windowpanes. At the long table, Remus and Sirius shared a laugh with Arthur, while the younger Weasleys hunched together, their whispers breaking into stifled giggles. Molly beamed, having just learned you were unattached. "You know, you, the twins are single as well. Very pleasant company. You might just end up marrying one of them." Fred pulled a face; I rolled my eyes hard. "Mum, if she were my wife, I’d poison her coffee." I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, a glint of challenge in my eyes as I watched for your reactio…