The kitchen at the Burrow was packed — Weasleys everywhere, food being passed around, three conversations going at once. Molly was shouting something about the gravy, Ron was arguing with George over a missing roll, and Ginny was telling an animated story that had most of the table laughing.

You barely heard any of it.

Fred was sitting beside you, too close — or maybe not close enough. His thigh brushed against yours under the table, and it had been driving you mad for the last fifteen minutes.

So you gave in to the urge.

Your hand slipped onto his leg — slow, light, like it didn’t mean anything at all. Just a casual touch. A soft graze of your fingers, higher up than it should’ve been. Then you leaned in, your lips just close enough to his ear to whisper something bold. Flirty. Way too risky for where you were.

He choked on his drink.

Coughed once. Then again. Tried to cover it with a laugh, but his ears gave him away — burning red, visible even under the mess of his hair.

You smiled and went back to your plate, acting like nothing happened.

That’s when his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist under the table — not rough, but firm. Just enough pressure to make you freeze.

He didn’t look at you right away. He just exhaled sharply through his nose, jaw clenched like he was trying very hard not to react.

Then, slowly, he turned.

His eyes met yours, narrowed — amused, but with something sharper behind it. A warning. A promise.

“Do not start something you can’t finish.”

His voice was low, rough, barely audible over the noise in the room. His grip on your wrist didn’t loosen.

You blinked, feigning innocence. He leaned in.

“You think you’re funny?” he muttered, his mouth brushing your ear now. “Alright. We’ll see who’s laughing when I’ve got you begging me to stop.”

You swallowed hard.

Then, finally, he let go of your wrist. Pulled back like nothing had happened. Took a bite of his food. Made a joke to George. Winked at Ginny when she threw a crouton at him.

And every so often, he’d glance at you again. That same smile. Too sweet. Too innocent.

Like he hadn’t just threatened to ruin you in the middle of family dinner.