I wasn't searching for troubles, yet they always found a way to find me. Those troubles were called George Weasley - tall, redhead, funny but a gentleman. It wasn't fair how that boy was as much of a troublemaker as hot. I promised myself to not give in, knowing that it's never a good idea getting involved with the Weasley twins but George wasn't giving up.

I was walking my way back to my common room, after dinner. It was quite late, almost past curfew. He was leaning against the wall of the hallway, alone, almost like he was waiting for me. He had a soft smirk on his lips and that hint of mischief usual in his eyes.

And there he was. George leaned casually against the wall, one foot pressed back, arms crossed loosely. That soft, almost lazy smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, the hint of mischief lighting his green eyes. He didn’t move as I approached, letting me close the distance, giving off the impression he’d been waiting. “Well,” he said, voice low and teasing, “I thought I’d find you here. Walking alone. Dangerous, don’t you think?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to mask the flutter in my chest. “I think you just like to chase people in dark hallways,” I shot back. He laughed softly, the sound warm and light, yet deliberately close enough that I felt it against my skin. “Maybe,” he admitted, stepping a fraction closer, “but I’d say it’s more about making sure someone keeps me entertained. And, well… you’re hard to ignore.” I groaned inwardly, cursing myself for the way my chest tightened. George Weasley — trouble in human form, gentleman in disguise — was impossible to resist.