The Burrow smelled like cinnamon and pumpkin guts. Every surface in the kitchen was covered — newspaper spread out over the table, seeds sticking to everything, and three half-carved pumpkins in front of you.

“Oi, careful with that knife,” George said, leaning over your shoulder with a grin that was anything but helpful. “Wouldn’t want you to lose a finger before we even get to the scary part of the night.”

You rolled your eyes, carving another jagged triangle into the pumpkin’s face. “You’re so encouraging, George.”

Fred, sitting across from you, was elbow-deep in his own pumpkin, pretending to inspect its insides like a Healer diagnosing a patient. “She’ll be fine,” he said. “Unless she screams later and jumps so hard she drops the bowl of popcorn again.”

You shot him a look, cheeks heating. “That was one time!”

“One very memorable time,” he added with a wink. “Thought Mum was gonna come running down the stairs thinking someone was being murdered.”

George barked out a laugh, scooping a handful of pumpkin innards and plopping it onto Fred’s pile. “At least she’s braver than you, mate. Remember when you thought that ghoul in the attic had escaped?”

“That thing growled, George.” Fred pointed the carving knife dramatically. “And you ran first.”

“I was strategically retreating.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, brushing a strand of hair out of your face before refocusing on your carving. But Fred kept bumping your elbow on purpose, making you slice unevenly.

“Oi!” you said, glaring at him. “If you ruin this, I’m hexing you into next week.”

“Empty threats,” George said, peeking over your shoulder. “You’ll forgive him by the time he offers you chocolate.”

Fred’s smirk widened. “Or when I steal all her candy later and she has to come find me for it.”

You scoffed, flicking a bit of pumpkin at his face. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?” he said, mock-offended. “Halloween’s about tricks and treats, love.”

Fred leaned back in his chair, admiring his crooked pumpkin proudly. “See? Perfect likeness of George.”

George squinted. “It’s got one eye bigger than the other!”

“Exactly.”

You snorted, setting down your knife and wiping your hands on a towel. “You two are hopeless.”

Fred shot you a grin, eyes glinting in the firelight. “Hopelessly charming, maybe.”

“Hopelessly annoying,” you corrected, but your smile gave you away.

George leaned across the table, smirking. “Don’t worry, love. By the end of tonight, you’ll be screaming louder than that ghoul in the attic.”

You pointed your knife at him playfully. “We’ll see about that.”

Fred laughed, tossing a pumpkin seed at you. “Merlin, I love Halloween.”