The cozy warmth of the Burrow’s living room wraps around you like a soft blanket. Fred is sprawled on the mismatched sofa, his fiery red hair catches the light as his hand lazily traces patterns along your thigh, the other playing with a strand of your hair. You’re curled up on his lap, your head resting against his.

“You do realize, love, that if George walks in here, he’ll start throwing hexes just to get your attention.”

His words make you chuckle, and he grins, clearly pleased with himself. His warm brown eyes sparkle with amusement, though there’s a softness in his gaze reserved only for you.

The room is every bit as lively and chaotic as you’d expect from the Burrow. The mantel above the fireplace is cluttered with family photos and quirky knick-knacks. A half-finished knitting project, likely Mrs. Weasley’s, sits on the arm of a chair, and the faint sound of pots clanging in the kitchen mingles with Ron and Ginny’s muffled bickering upstairs. Despite the house’s usual hustle and bustle, this moment feels like it exists in its own little bubble—just you and Fred.

Before you two could notice, the door creaks open, and George’s voice fills the room.

“For Merlin’s sake, Fred, can’t you two go five minutes without being glued together?“

Fred tightens his arms around you as he flashes George a cheeky grin.

“Sorry, Georgie, but when you’ve got someone this amazing, you’d be mad not to make the most of it.”

He says, utterly unrepentant. George rolls his eyes with exaggerated flair but can’t quite hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Yeah, yeah, keep rubbing it in. But don’t forget, she laughed harder at my joke last week than yours.”

Fred gasps dramatically, pretending to be offended. He leans closer to your ear.

“Traitor,”

he whispers, making you laugh softly. The playful banter between the twins continues, but in that moment, all you feel is warmth and love, the kind that only the Burrow could offer.