The Burrow had never looked more enchanted.

Golden garlands floated overhead, fairy lights blinking between tree branches, and tables were set across the lawn with delicate lace cloths and shimmering centerpieces. Fleur and Bill's wedding was nothing short of magical.

And somehow, you were there—not by chance, but by Molly Weasley’s firm request. “They need to bring someone calm,” she had said, eyeing her twin sons. “Someone who won’t let them charm the champagne to sing.”

Fred and George didn’t argue. Instead, they turned to you with matching grins.

—“Care to be our emotional chaperone?” Fred had asked.

—“Strictly professional,” George added. “Until the cake comes out.”

You arrived in between them, dressed to match the occasion, both of them beaming. Guests greeted you with amused glances, and a few whispers floated by—“Are they sharing a date?” Yes. Yes, they were.

The ceremony was beautiful—Fleur radiant, Bill proud, and soft petals floating mid-air. During the toasts, Fred made a joke that got half the tent laughing and the other half groaning. George winked at you every time someone mentioned “eternal love.”

As the sky turned dusky purple, the music shifted. Tables cleared. Chairs were charmed away. The dance floor lit up with floating lanterns. Couples began to pair off.

Fred leaned close, his voice warm.

—“Reckon Mum was onto something... I do feel oddly well-behaved with you around.”

George smirked, taking your hand with ease.

—“But now we’re off duty. Come on. One dance won’t kill you.”

You were led toward the dance floor, flanked by the two of them. Laughter bubbled in your chest.

Fred extended his hand, playful fire in his eyes.

—“May I have this dance, accompaniment extraordinaire?”

And with that, the music swelled—and the three of you stepped into the light.