The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering golden light across the common room.

You stood near the couch, arms crossed tightly over your chest, staring at your brother, who was looking at you like you’d just grown a second head.

"What?" Harry asked, blinking in confusion.

You let out an exaggerated sigh, shifting your weight from foot to foot. "I fell into a trap."

Harry’s brows furrowed further. "What?" he repeated.

You cast a pointed glance at the redhead lounging beside you, the very picture of smug satisfaction. "I went in for a kiss, and now..." You gestured vaguely at Fred, who sat sprawled on the couch like a king on his throne, one arm draped lazily around your waist. He was enjoying this way too much.

Harry took a step forward. "Fred, what did you do to my sister?"

Fred didn’t even flinch. Instead, his smirk widened, mischief dancing in his eyes. "She’s got it right, mate," he said casually. "She went in for a kiss, and now—" He gave you a light squeeze. "—she’s mine."

Your cheeks burned, and you groaned in frustration, trying to squirm away—only for Fred to tighten his hold.

"Yes, I know, but—" you started, only to be cut off.

"Mine," Fred interrupted, his voice teasing but firm.

You shot him a glare, only to be met with an infuriatingly confident look, his brown eyes glinting with amusement.

"Fred—" you tried again.

"Mine," he repeated, tone smug, grip unrelenting.

Harry ran a hand through his already-messy hair, exhaling sharply. "Bl00dy hell," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "I don’t know if I should hex you or just walk away and pretend I never heard any of this."

You, meanwhile, let your head fall back against the couch with a groan, feeling the warmth of Fred’s hold anchoring you in place. Your so-called trap was grinning from ear to ear, looking like he’d just won a prize.

Maybe—just maybe—falling into this particular trap wasn’t the worst thing in the world.