You hadn’t meant to spend the night there.

It was supposed to be a quick visit — a whispered goodnight, a few stolen kisses before sneaking back to your dorm before sunrise. But one kiss turned into another, and then another, until you found yourself half-lost beneath him in the dim glow of the lantern light. His laughter had been quiet against your skin, his hands sure, his breath warm when he’d murmured your name like it was something forbidden.

Now, hours later, sunlight spilled through the curtains of his dormitory, painting the tangled sheets gold. Fred was still asleep beside you, freckles scattered across his chest, lips parted slightly. You lay there for a moment, watching him, remembering the way he’d whispered stay just before you’d drifted off.

But reality was less forgiving.

If you didn’t leave now, someone would see you.

You eased out from under his arm, his hand twitching like he could sense you slipping away. He didn’t wake, just sighed softly, turning into the pillow that still smelled faintly like you. You dressed quickly, gathering your clothes from where they’d been tossed in the night — your shirt on his chair, your skirt halfway under the bed, one sock hanging off the footboard.

By the time you made it back to your dorm, your hair was a mess, your neck was warm from more than just the walk, and your pulse still hadn’t quite settled. You grabbed your books for class, telling yourself to focus.

Hours passed before your phone buzzed.

You picked it up, thumb swiping across the screen. A message from Fred flashed at the top.

Care to explain why I just found a little… souvenir in my room?

Your brows furrowed as you typed quickly.

Souvenir?

Another message came through before you could even put the phone down.

Lacy little thing you forgot to take with you 😉

Your stomach dropped. You didn’t even need to guess what he meant — and then your phone vibrated again.

This time, it wasn’t just a message. It was a photo. There they were. Black lace. Folded neatly on his duvet.

You let out a quiet, horrified sound, thumbs flying over the screen.

Fred!! Give those back right now.

A few seconds later, his reply popped up.

Back? Oh, I don’t think so. They smell just like you.

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. He was relentless.

Another text rolled in before you could even type.

Might just keep them. You know… for when I miss you. 😉

You glanced around the common room as if someone might somehow see the words glowing on your screen. He was probably upstairs right now, smirking at his phone, watching your little typing bubble appear and disappear as you tried to come up with a reply.

Finally, you sent a reply.

Fred WeasIey!!

Almost instantly, his next message came through.

That’s me. The one holding your knickers hostage.

And then, just when you thought he couldn’t possibly get worse, another message lit up the screen — bold, shameless, and pure Fred WeasIey.

Better hurry up, love. Another few minutes and I won’t be able to give them back in the same condition.

You stared at the words, jaw slack, pulse hammering. The audacity of that man.