The Gryffindor common room was never this crowded, not even after a Quidditch win. Everyone was jammed together in a sleepy, nervous mess—blankets thrown over shoulders, slippers scuffing against the rug, hair sticking up at odd angles. The fire in the hearth snapped and hissed, throwing flickering shadows across the scarlet hangings and over tired, pale faces. You were half-awake yourself, hugging your arms close against the chill, trying to make sense of Professor McGonagall’s sharp words cutting through the noise.

“Sirius BIack has broken into the castle…”

The whisper passed quickly from student to student, setting off a ripple of gasps. Someone behind you whimpered, and the sound made your stomach twist. You tried not to let it show on your face, but your heart was racing all the same. The room suddenly felt smaller, warmer, and far less safe.

That was when you felt someone sidle closer. A warm shoulder brushed yours, and a familiar voice dipped low by your ear.

“Scared, love?”

Fred WeasIey was standing right behind you, arms loosely folded over his chest, his hair sticking up in every direction as if he’d just rolled out of bed. His striped pyjama shirt hung open at the collar, and there was that infuriating grin tugging at his lips. Even now, with fear prickling in the air, he looked maddeningly at ease.

You shot him a glare, though it lacked its usual sharpness. “I’d like to see you not scared when a madman’s wandering around the castle.”

Fred leaned closer, close enough that the faint freckles scattered across his nose stood out, close enough you could smell the faint warmth of his cologne still clinging to him. “Oh, I’m trembling, can’t you tell?” He shook his shoulders in an exaggerated shiver, making George snort from the other side of him, muffling his laugh into his sleeve.

You pressed your lips together “You think this is funny?”

“Not funny,” Fred said softly, his teasing tone gentling just a fraction. The fire crackled behind him, making his expression soften in its glow. “But if you’re scared…” He shifted, holding his hand between you, his fingers loose and wiggling slightly in a mock invitation. “You could always hold mine.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, daring and warm all at once, as if he had no doubt you’d take it.