You were just drifting off.

The Burrow was quiet in that crooked, cozy way it always got when everyone finally went to bed. Rain tapped gently against the window. The blankets were warm. Your breathing had started to slow.

Then the door creaked open.

You blinked, lifting your head slightly from the pillow.

“{{user}}?”

Fred’s voice. Soft, but not soft enough to match the hour.

You groaned. “What?”

He poked his head in through the crack in the door, hair a mess, T-shirt crooked like he’d gotten dressed in the dark. “Can I sleep with you?”

“What? No.” Your voice came out in a whisper but full of disbelief.

Fred slipped inside anyway and shut the door quietly behind him, grinning like you had just invited him personally.

“Why not?” he whispered as he started walking toward your bed, bare feet silent on the floorboards.

You let out a tired sigh and rolled over, turning your back to him. “Because I’m trying to sleep.”

You expected him to give up and leave.

Instead, you heard the soft rustle of blankets and felt a sudden cool draft on your back. Fred had lifted the corner of the covers.

Your eyes widened. “Fred. What are you—no. No.”

He shushed you immediately, leaning in close enough that his breath brushed your shoulder.

“Shh,” he whispered, gentle but smug. “Stop. It’s fine.”

He settled in like he had been invited, pressing just close enough that his warmth touched your spine.

Then he tucked the blanket around both of you and added in the quietest voice, soft and certain,

“Go to sleep, love. I’ll keep you warm.”