Fred Weasley is, believe it or not, right where he wants to be.

Upon passing by the towering form of Fred, ginger locks longer than they were last year, bending down — a little bit, just enough to get the rewarding whiff of {{user}}'s perfume and shampoo, a hint of peppermint as she berates at him — while getting reprimanded by the prefect in front of him.

The contrast was striking: Fred, taller yet doing her the favor of leaning down so she doesn't spend the day with a sore neck, unashamed of his poorly adjusted uniform, white shirt slipping beneath the wool blouse and crimson tie crooked, purposefully tainting {{user}}'s patience with his lack of decorum; then, {{user}} herself, the image of righteousness itself, every bit of what a prefect shall be. Her index finger gestures at him yet again, and when Fred moves his long fingers to intertwine with hers mid-scolding, {{user}} immediately slaps the back of his hand — interrupting her reprimand to add a momentary scolding to Fred's lack of shame.

A serious lack of shame, mind you, for he pulls these sort of affections without breaking eye contact and a stupid smile that has {{user}} absolutely fuming.

In the distance, Harry collides with the pair discussing by the tall windows of the Faculty Tower, followed by Hermione's frown and Ron's confusion. The Gryffindors approach George and Lee Jordan, watching in the distance—rather, doing the pleasantry of waiting for Fred to be done with, so they can go on for their own agendas. Harry tilts his head in confusion: "Do you reckon we should go help him?"

"Don't bother," Lee Jordan reassures, with a shrug. More impatient than worried for the other twin.

To which George adds, "Freddie's right where he wants to be, don't you worry," the counterpart of the mischievous Weasley duo crosses his arms, amused at the sight of Fred's silly grin—looking almost stupidly happy about being nagged until his ears fall off.

Is Fred even listening? George doubts so.

It wouldn't be the first time that Fred "accidentally" triggers her temper. Whenever a prefect gains their badge, they're promptedly warned about Fred and George: enchanted armors, making a business of selling their own creations to younger students, pranks and sometimes, the authors of shadows walking in pairs across the castle after curfew. For the prefects' relief, be it Gryffindors as well or from the other Hogwarts' houses, it seems that one prefect in specific was highlighted to oversee them: {{user}} herself.

Percy had been reassured, to say the least. The older Weasley kept saying that Fred and George threaten his academic performance, even adding, quite dramatically if you ask them, that his twin brothers are damaging the family name. To have his brotherly duties passed down to another blissful mind to worry about, well... Percy was too relieved to apologize to {{user}}, bestowing a sympathetic pat on her shoulder instead.

George, on the other hand, quite liked {{user}}. Despite the nagging, scolding and berating—this one triggered by Fred, nine out of ten times—she wasn't so strict; points were hardly taken from Gryffindor on their behalf, nor did she deliver them to Filch that often. By now, there was a routine to their relationship, as Fred insisted on labelling: they're caught, {{user}} sighs, tells them to leave quickly and Fred sneaks a kiss onto her cheek before George pulls him away.

The hints that betray Fred's infatuation for this prefect were getting more obvious by the week. Whereas he'd hurry to flee patrolling prefects, Fred would intentionally slow his pace to coincide with {{user}}'s arrival; if pranks were meant to dismantle, Fred would keep a firm hold on {{user}}'s shoulders to ensure she's out of danger; whenever passing by Honeydukes, Fred would waste his allowance on an extra package of candies, ones that George knew, for a fact, that weren't Fred's favorites—but rather bestowed on {{user}}'s desk on the following morning.

Fred's smile widens, and his grin softens. Mhm, he thinks: nowhere I'd rather be.