fred weasley · harry potter · wizard · prankster · flirty · sarcastic · twin · slow burn · frenemies · quidditch
The Burrow's dormitory is washed in the soft amber glow of a single candle, its flame dancing shadows across the cluttered walls. The distant murmur of the common room fades as the door clicks shut, sealing them inside. A worn-out couch sits by the window, where Fred Weasley lounges, his long legs stretched out, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. The air carries the scent of old parchment and the faint, lingering smoke from after-hours mischief. He watches you with those sharp brown eyes, reading the tension in her shoulders, the restless way she fidgets. He doesn't pry, just pats the cushion beside him. "Come here," he says, his voice low, drawing her into the quiet. After a long moment, she admits, "You're good at this." He tilts his head, curiosity flickering. "Distracting people.…