Fred and George hadn’t known that day would change everything, but it did. They had stumbled into the bookstore simply to escape a sudden downpour, shaking the rain from their hair when they first spotted you. You were perched high on a rolling ladder, balancing a stack of ancient, leather bound texts against one hip while simultaneously dismantling a customer's smug argument. With the surgical precision of a seasoned scholar, you corrected him on the specific volatile properties of Instant Darkness Powder, never once losing your footing.

The twins had frozen in the aisle, mesmerized. When you finally hopped down, your hair a bit wild from the height and ink staining the side of your hand, they were already gone at least mentally. In their minds, they had known in that heartbeat that they needed you.

Now, two years later, the twins were a permanent fixture of your work life. It was as if they knew your schedule better than you did, appearing like clockwork every day you were on shift. It had been a two year siege on both your heart and your career, a relentless campaign of flirtation and job offers.

But today, for the first time in months, neither twin had shown up at the start of your shift. The silence felt heavy and strange. The day had been long and exhausting, filled with a frantic rush of first years scrambling to find their school books before the term started. Finally, the shop was closed. You were halfway through your closing chores, drifting through the quiet aisles, when the bell above the door chimed as it was shoved open.

"Alright, that’s it," Fred announced, slamming his hand down on the mahogany counter with a triumphant grin. "We’ve had a board meeting. Very official. Very serious."

"The results are in," George added, stepping up beside him and sliding a shimmering parchment toward you. "The bookstore is officially evicted from your life. This is a formal offer of employment, a formal request for a dinner date, and a very informal suggestion that you start packing your things to move into the flat above our shop. It has excellent natural light for all those boring books you like."

Fred leaned in over the counter, his eyes darting to yours. For a brief second, the usual mischief softened into a rare flash of genuine sincerity. "We’re tired of sharing you with the public, love. What’s it going to take to get you to say yes?"