The chatter of the Great Hall buzzes around him—clinking goblets, shifting plates, bursts of laughter—but Fred’s eyes drift across the room. Instinctively. Like they always do.

There you are. Sitting at your table, surrounded by your friends, pretending not to notice him.

But your gaze flickers his way. Just once. Then again. A little longer.

He catches your eyes and doesn’t look away. A slow, knowing grin curves across his face—lazy, confident, annoyingly charming. Then he winks.

One sharp, playful wink. Like it’s a secret joke only the two of you know.