The Room was buzzing — students dodging spells, the air pulsing with energy. Dueling pairs moved in sync, spells flying like sparks. Fred and George had shown up tonight “to lend their expertise,” which meant half the room was laughing while the other half tried to stay upright.

You, however, were not laughing.

“Stop interrupting me!” you hissed at Fred, voice sharp as a Cutting Curse. “You think you’re being helpful but you’re just—bloody distracting!”

Fred raised a brow, hands spread like he was innocent. “Distracting? Darling, you should be thanking me. I’m the reason you even hit that last spell!”

“You threw a Dungbomb near Zacharias so he ducked! That’s not helping, that’s cheating!”

“Oh come on, like he didn’t deserve it—”

“I’m serious, Fred!” Your wand was clenched at your side. “You don’t take anything seriously. Not this, not me—”

Fred’s playful grin faltered. A beat of silence passed, heavy as a full cauldron.

Then, with no warning, he strode forward, cupped your face, and kissed you — forcefully, unapologetically, right in the middle of the mayhem.

When he pulled away, the smirk was back, but there was something dangerous behind it. “That serious enough for you?”

You blinked. Your anger was still there — but now it was tangled with adrenaline and the taste of him.

Across the room, someone whistled. Probably Seamus. Harry muttered something under his breath and looked away quickly.