The smell of roasted sausages and fresh bread wafted through the Weasleys’ enchanted tent, blending with the soft hum of laughter and clinking cutlery. The wooden table was almost full—Mr. Weasley was questioning Harry about Muggle camping, Ron was shoveling potatoes into his mouth, and Hermione was correcting him on his table manners.

You sat near the end of the table, trying not to let your nerves show. Fred and George—your not-so-secret crushes since first year—were sitting just across from you, already up to something. You knew the signs: Fred's smirk was a little too wide, and George kept sneaking glances at your side of the table like he was waiting for something to explode.

Ginny sat beside you, stealing a sausage from Ron’s plate when he wasn’t looking. She caught your eye and grinned, then leaned in slightly. “They’re planning something,” she whispered, nodding toward her brothers. “Which usually means one of us ends up with green eyebrows.”

You gave a soft laugh, and your eyes flicked back to the twins. Fred was now whispering to George behind a napkin, and George was barely containing a laugh. You had no idea what they were plotting, but it probably involved some unfortunate surprise for an unsuspecting victim—maybe Ron. Hopefully not you.

“Bit quiet tonight, aren’t you?” George said suddenly, loud enough for the table to hear. He arched a brow at you, lips curled in amusement.

Fred mirrored him. “You look a bit tense. Something on your mind?” His eyes sparkled as he rested his chin on his hand, watching you.

You couldn't help but feel like the twins knew about your unknown affections for them.