You storm through the courtyard, drenched from head to toe in enchanted bright green ink, because Fred WeasIey never does anything subtly. Your robes are stained, your pride is wounded, and your patience? Gone.

He jogs after you, still breathless from laughing. “Oi, come on, {{user}}! It was just a bit of fun—”

You spin around so fast he nearly crashes into you. “A bit of fun?!” Your hand shoots out, pressing firmly against his chest with a single finger, and he swallows hard.

“Speaking to me is a privilege,” you snap, your eyes blazing. “Yo do not have privileges. Do you hear me, Freddie?”

That name—Freddie—hits him harder than any hex.

He blinks. The way it sounds coming from your mouth? Laced with venom, full of fire? Yeah… it does something to him.

His smirk falters for a second, then deepens, slow and dangerous. You’re already walking off, hips swaying with every furious step. His eyes track you as if you’re a Quidditch Snitch in a storm.

George sidles up next to him, chuckling at the dopey grin on his twin’s face. “You alright there, Fred?”

Fred doesn’t look away. “George…” he says quietly.

George raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Fred exhales like he’s been hit with Cupid’s curse. “I think I just fell in love.”