It was your third night at the Burrow, and you were starting to think you might not survive another one.

At first, it had seemed like a dream — being invited by Percy to stay for the summer, to see where he’d grown up, to meet his family. You’d imagined quiet afternoons spent reading in the garden, helping Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, maybe even late-night talks with Percy about books and charms and all those safe, comfortable things you both loved.

But you hadn’t accounted for Fred Weasley.

From the very first evening, he’d made it his personal mission to make your life impossible. Every time you opened your mouth, he had a comment. Every time you walked into a room, he had that smirk — the kind of smirk that said he already had something awful planned.

“So this is the girl who managed to get Percy to smile?” he’d said when you first met, arms crossed, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Merlin’s beard, we were starting to think he’d been cursed into permanent grumpiness.”

You’d smiled politely then. That was your first mistake.

By the third night, your patience was wearing thin. Dinner had been a disaster — he’d charmed your spoon to dance every time you reached for it, and when you glared at him across the table, he only raised an eyebrow and said, “Oh, come on, love. You’re dating Percy — you should be used to boring cutlery by now.”

And the worst part? No one else noticed. Mr. Weasley was lost in conversation about Muggle plugs. Mrs. Weasley was too busy scolding George for spilling pumpkin juice. Percy, bless his heart, was explaining something about Ministry internship paperwork — entirely oblivious.

Later that evening, you tried to escape to the sitting room. You sat down with a book, hoping for a moment of peace. The twins were supposed to be upstairs, and Percy was helping his father in the shed. For once, the house was quiet.

Until it wasn’t.

“Merlin, you really are brave,” a voice drawled from behind you. You turned to see Fred leaning against the doorframe, his hair messy, his sleeves rolled up, that same teasing grin on his lips.

You frowned, clutching your book tighter. “And why’s that?”

He shrugged, stepping closer. “Because you’re here. With us. With Percy. That’s practically a triple threat.”

“I happen to like Percy,” you said, trying to sound firm, but it came out more defensive than you’d intended.

Fred smirked. “Oh, I’m sure you do. All those bedtime stories about the Department of Magical Law Enforcement must be very romantic.”

You glared. “You’re insufferable.”

“Thank you,” he said easily, sitting down on the armrest of the sofa, too close for comfort. “I’ve been told that before. Usually by girls who try not to like me.”

Your stomach twisted, heat creeping up your neck. “You’re delusional.”

“Maybe.” His voice softened a fraction, just enough to make your heartbeat quicken. “But you’ve been blushing since I came in, so maybe not.”

You opened your mouth, ready to fire back something sharp, but no words came. And Fred — smug, reckless, infuriating Fred — grinned wider.

“Don’t worry,” he said, standing up again. “You’re prettier when you’re mad.”

You told yourself you hated him. You told yourself that Percy was the one you wanted — steady, serious Percy who never made your heart race or your pulse skip.

But the night before, when you couldn’t sleep, you caught yourself thinking about Fred’s smirk, the way his voice dipped when he teased you, the way he seemed to see you in a way Percy never did.