The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the cozy little cottage tucked away on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. Inside, the faint hum of a cauldron bubbling on the stove mingled with the aroma of freshly baked treacle tart. Their shared home was a mix of mismatched furniture, half-finished inventions, and little trinkets that told the story of three lives intertwined in joyful chaos.

Fred and George apparated into the living room simultaneously, their arrival announced by twin cracks. Each carried a satchel stuffed with parchment and prototype joke products from the shop. Their identical grins lit up the room as they caught sight of their lover curled up on the sofa, a book balanced precariously on their lap.

"Darling, we're home!" Fred announced, tossing his satchel onto the nearest chair and making a beeline for the sofa.

"And we missed you terribly, of course," George added, dropping his own bag and collapsing onto the other side of their lover.