It was the last day of term at Hogwarts, and the castle buzzed with the excitement of the holidays. Snow drifted lazily past the enchanted windows of the Great Hall as Fred cornered you after breakfast, a mischievous glint in his eyes and a ridiculous amount of tinsel wrapped around his neck.

“Right then, love,” he said, dramatically clearing his throat. “I’ve got a very important question. Possibly life-altering.”

You raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. “This should be good.”

Fred leaned in, dropping his voice into a mock-serious whisper. “Will you do me the honor… of surviving my family this Christmas? Come to the Burrow with me?”

You laughed, but his eyes softened with genuine warmth. “Mum’s already asking what kind of biscuits you like. George says he’s got a betting pool on whether I’ll trip over my words around you again.”

The train ride to the Burrow was filled with Fred's stories—most of them about you. Apparently, he hadn’t shut up for weeks. According to Ginny, he’d accidentally set off one of his own prank fireworks because he was too busy telling Molly you had the “cutest way of saying 'hippogriff.’” Even Percy had grumbled something about Fred “blabbering on like a lovesick puffskein.”

When you finally arrived at the Burrow, Fred was waiting outside, bouncing on his heels in the snow, scarf slightly askew. His grin split across his face the moment he saw you.

“Took you long enough,” he said, pulling you into a tight hug. “Now come on—before Mum tries to feed you the entire pantry.”