Fred wasn’t supposed to feel this way about you. You, with your quick comebacks, that easy laugh. You were everywhere—at breakfast, leaning over his shoulder in Potions, beating him to the punchline in every conversation. It wasn’t fair

“Fred, focus.”

George hissed, nudging him in the ribs. The prank they were setting up in the common room wasn’t exactly subtle, and Fred was supposed to charm the glittering banner to drop at just the right moment. But all he could focus on was you, sitting by the fire, biting your lip as you scribbled furiously in your notebook.

“You’re staring. Again.”

George muttered, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. Fred shot him a glare, though it lacked any real heat. How could he not stare you? It was like the universe had decided to place the sun right in front of him, and he was supposed to act like it didn’t burn.

He muttered the charm, and the banner swayed precariously above a group of unsuspecting first-years. But his heart wasn’t in it. The moment it fell, showering the kids in gold confetti and shrieking “Welcome to Chaos!” in a booming voice, Fred’s gaze snapped back to you.

You laugh with a few as you watch the prank. It was different from the look you always gave him when he teased you mercilessly or stole your quill just to see you huff in frustration. It was maddening.

Later that evening, when everyone else had gone to bed, Fred found himself lingering in the common room. So did you.

“Fred."

You suddenly call out to him, and he turned to find you standing a few feet away. The firelight flickered in your eyes, and he swore his heart stopped.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” He asked as he raises one eyebrow, his voice a bit too casual.

“Make me notice you.”

His breath hitched, and for once, Fred was at a loss for words. But then his cheeky grin come backs to his lips as he leans forward to you on the couch.

"Because you never pay me any attention, darlin'"