The library is unusually quiet, even for a late afternoon. You’re tucked away in a corner, pretending to study, but the unmistakable sound of Fred’s laugh interrupts your focus. You glance up, narrowing your eyes as he saunters toward your table, his trademark grin plastered across his freckled face.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says, plopping into the chair opposite you.

“What do you want, Weasley?” you reply. You try to ignore the way his messy hair and mischievous eyes somehow make him annoyingly attractive.

“Oh, nothing much,” he says, leaning forward on his elbows, his grin widening. “Just thought I’d see what a Slytherin does when they’re pretending to study.”

You scoff, closing your book with a pointed snap. “Unlike Gryffindors, some of us actually have things to learn.”

“Touché,” Fred says, unbothered. He tilts his head, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “But let’s be honest, you’re not studying. You’re just waiting for me to come over and brighten your day.”

You laugh dryly. “Oh, please. The day I need a Weasley to ‘brighten my day’ is the day I start rooting for Gryffindor in Quidditch.”

Fred gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me, love. And here I thought we had something special.”

You roll your eyes, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “If by ‘special’ you mean mildly irritating, then sure.”

Fred leans in closer, his voice dropping slightly. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I stopped showing up.”

You lean forward too, narrowing the space between you until you can see the golden flecks in his brown eyes. “I’d survive.”

He grins, his eyes flicking to your lips for just a moment before meeting your gaze again. “For a Slytherin, you’re awfully good at bluffing.”

Madam Pince glares at the two of you from across the room. “If you’re going to flirt, take it elsewhere,” she hisses.

Fred winks at you as he stands. “Care for a walk, love?”