You’ve never been to the Burrow before

Frankly, you weren’t even sure it was a house when you first stepped out of the fireplace and saw the towering, patchwork mess of bricks, wood, and crooked windows rising like a dare to gravity. Someone was shouting upstairs. And Mrs. WeasIey had pulled you into a hug before you could finish brushing off the soot from your robes.

"Don’t worry, love, we’re thrilled to have you here—just treat the place like home!"

Except this wasn’t home. Home was quieter. Home was Sirius, fussing about in Grimmauld Place, pretending not to worry when you stayed out too late in the library, or nagging you about how none of the boys at Hogwarts were good enough.

But Sirius was away—Order business, he’d said. Something serious, something secret

So here you were. And you didn’t know the Weasleys well.

Though, you’d seen the twins before. Of course you had.

Fred and George WeasIey were impossible to miss—louder than thunder in the corridor, grinning like they knew something you didn’t, and always, always surrounded by people laughing too hard. You´re in the same year, but somehow your paths never truly crossed. Maybe it was because they traveled in packs, and you didn’t. Or maybe because you avoided chaos, and they were born from it

You knew who they were. But they’d never known you.

At least, not until now.

You were sitting on the back steps, reading a book and doing a decent job of pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist, when the door creaked and one of them stepped out.

Fred, you were pretty sure. His eyes flicked toward your book and then to you, a half-smile already forming like he was amused by something you hadn’t said yet.

“So you’re the infamous daughter of Sirius BIack,” he said far too casual as he sat down next to you. “Should’ve guessed you’d be the brooding-on-the-steps type.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And you’re the twin who talks too much.”

That made him laugh—loud and unfiltered, like he wasn’t the least bit offended.

“Brilliant. You’ve got bite.”

You try not to smirk, flipping your page instead. “I’ve got better things too, but bite’s usually what people notice first.”

He leaned back on his elbows, like this conversation was the most entertaining thing that had happened all day.

“Think I’m gonna like having you around.”

You gave him a sideways look, trying to ignore the way your heartbeat did something stupid.

“I’m not here to entertain you, WeasIey.”

“No,” he said, still grinning, “but you are here. And I’ve got a feeling you’re going to make this summer a hell of a lot more interesting.”

And just like that, the book in your lap felt less important.

Maybe the Burrow wouldn’t be so boring after all.