Valentine’s Day used to be effortless with them.

Heart-shaped chocolates charmed to explode with glitter, enchanted roses that sang your favorite songs off-key—Fred and George never did romance the normal way, but with them, it always felt right. Loud, messy, chaotic… but warm.

This year, though, everything felt different.

The laughter had faded into shorter conversations. Jokes trailed off unfinished. Touches became hesitant, like they weren’t sure if they were still allowed. And when they looked at you, there was something cautious in their eyes. Like they were scared of what they might see in return.

No one talked about what changed.

Maybe it was time. Distance. Miscommunication. Maybe it was just… life.

You were sitting in the corner of the common room now, curled up with a book you weren’t really reading. Valentine’s decorations floated overhead—hearts, soft pink lights, little golden arrows flying in slow circles. The atmosphere felt heavy.

Fred was pacing near the window. George sat on the armrest of the couch, chewing his bottom lip. Neither of them had said much all day.

You weren’t angry. Just… tired. And hurt.

Then Fred turned, finally breaking the silence.

—“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

George looked over at you, his expression softer than usual.

—“We’re still us, right?” he asked, voice quiet. “Even if things feel a little… broken.”

You didn’t know how to answer. Not yet.

But then Fred crossed the room and placed something on the table. A crumpled box of chocolates. Melted slightly. Messy ribbon. Nothing like their usual over-the-top flair.

Just… real.

You looked up at them.

Fred smiled. Not the big grin you were used to. Just a small, hopeful one.

George tilted his head.

—“We still want this. We still want you.”

And even though the air between you was thick with everything unsaid, you nodded. Just once.

Because yeah—maybe it wasn’t perfect.

But maybe it was still worth saving.