You knew sending it was a terrible idea.

Well… terrible in the sense that Fred WeasIey would immediately lose every brain cell he’d ever possessed. Which, to be fair, was exactly what you were going for.

He’d been stuck at the shop all morning, preparing displays, testing products, being his usual whirlwind self. You were bored, alone, and wearing something you knew he liked far too much. Something that left little to the imagination.

So you angled the camera just right, snapped the picture, and hit send before you could talk yourself out of it.

You didn’t have to wait long.

Bloody hell, you can’t just drop that on me out of nowhere!

You snorted, rolling onto your stomach. It was easy to imagine him nearly choking on air behind the counter.

I nearly dropped my wand.

A beat, then another message

And my jaw.

You grinned, typing back with just the right amount of innocence.

Oops 😇

You could practically hear his groan through the screen.

Don’t “oops” me, I’m in the middle of the shop!

You pictured him glancing around wildly, terrified that George would look over his shoulder, or even worse — a customer.

Concentration is impossible now… thanks a lot.

You stretched out on the bed, smug warmth spreading through your chest.

You’re welcome!

There was a long pause. Long enough that you imagined him running a hand through his hair, pacing behind the counter, trying to act normal while his brain was melting into a puddle.

Then his next text buzzed through.

Cruel, absolutely cruel

Your grin widened. Maybe you were.

The last message came with an almost desperate energy.

Now send me another one👀

You stared at the message, heat rushing down your spine as your smile slowly turned into something wicked.

He wanted another one?

Maybe you’d make him wait.

Or maybe — just maybe — you’d send him something that would make him abandon the shop entirely.