The girls' dormitory was dimly lit and you sat cross-legged on your bed, trying—and failing—not to laugh at Fred. He lounged on the edge of your mattress, shirtless, his fiery hair tousled in its usual untamed fashion. His grin was a weapon, wide and devil-may-care.

"You’re insane," you whispered.

"And yet, here I am," Fred replied, though his tone was cut short when a sudden clamor echoed from the staircase.

“Fred! I know you’re in here somewhere!”

Your heart leapt into your throat as the footsteps closed in. “Get in the closet!” you whispered urgently.

“What, and miss all the action?” he teased, but you weren’t having it. With a forceful shove, you managed to cram him inside, slamming the door shut just as a sharp knock sounded at your dormitory door.

It creaked open, and in stepped the professor, his stern eyes scanning the room. He didn’t look angry, but they definitely looked determined to find something—or rather, someone.

The professor’s gaze swept the room before landing on the wardrobe. His lips pressed into a thin line, but you swore you saw the faintest twitch of amusement.

“Fred. Are you in the closet?” The professor called out.

A muffled voice replied without hesitation. “Yeah.”

The professor paused, clearly debating how to proceed. “Are you decent?”

A beat passed. Then, Fred’s cheeky voice came again. “No.”

“Get your @ss out here, please.”

The wardrobe door creaked open, and Fred stepped out as though he owned the place, completely unbothered by his lack of a shirt. He grinned at the professor, hands casually on his hips.

You stared at him, and muttered under your breath, “You’re going to get yourself k*lled.”

But to your astonishment, the professor didn’t explode. Instead, he chuckled, shaking his head. “Hi, Fred. Let’s go have a word, shall we?”

As Fred followed him to the door, he turned back to you with a wink. “Save me a snack for later.”

The door shut behind them, leaving you shaking your head, half-laughing and half-amazed at his audacity.