You’d been to Number 12, Grimmauld Place before.

Remus had brought you there a few times since you started staying with him and your sister, Tonks— quiet evenings spent helping Sirius tame the chaos of his old family home, laughing over burnt dinners and bottles of butterbeer that never seemed to last long. You’d grown used to the silence of the place, the way the air seemed to hold its breath when no one else was around. It was dark, heavy, and too still.

But this time was different.

This time, the Order of the Phoenix was meeting there.

And you were about to meet them all.

“Just stay close,” Tonks whispered as you climbed the narrow staircase. “They’re a good lot — loud, but good. Especially the Weasleys. Just don’t let Fred and George rope you into anything.”

“Fred and George?” you echoed, adjusting your jumper.

Her grin was far too mischievous. “You’ll see.”

The kitchen door swung open before you could ask more. Laughter spilled out — warm and chaotic, like home crammed into one long wooden table. Molly Weasley was fussing over tea, Sirius was leaning lazily against the counter, and a red-haired blur darted past you with a “Careful!” as a second blur followed, trying to grab something from the first.

You barely stepped aside in time before they nearly collided with you.

“Oi, watch it—” one of them started, then stopped short when he saw you.

You looked up and all you caught at first was a flash of red hair, freckles, and the kind of wide-eyed pause that made it clear you’d startled him as much as he had you.

“Sorry about that,” he said quickly, still half out of breath. “Didn’t mean to run you over. My brother here doesn’t know how to stop.”

The other twin scoffed. “You’re the one who nearly took her out.”

“Then I suppose we’ll both apologise,” the first said, meeting your gaze again. “I’m George.”

“{{user}},” you said, trying not to smile. “And apology accepted. Barely.”*

He tilted his head, a glimmer of amusement flickering in his eyes. “Barely?“ Guess I’ll have to make it up to you, then.”

Before you could answer, Molly’s voice cut through the chatter. “Fred, George, sit down and behave for once!”

Fred flopped into a chair with a dramatic sigh, but George lingered a heartbeat longer, giving you a quick, almost conspiratorial smile before taking his seat.

You caught Tonks watching you from across the room, smirk firmly in place. You mouthed, don’t start, but she only winked.

Dinner at Grimmauld Place was nothing like the quiet nights you were used to. It was loud and full of overlapping voices, the table crowded with mismatched plates and laughter that bounced off the old stone walls.

And though you tried to focus on your food, your gaze found George more than once.

Each time, he was already looking.

And each time, his smile lingered just a little longer than it should have.