Don't Give, Just Take | F. Weasley

52 | Real Mastermind

"Bonjour," Safe greeted with a warm smile, just like always, just like how it used to be.

Fred stared at her for a long minute. Was it a dream? He probably still was dreaming, right?

Her lips were pursed as she waited for him to let her in. Clutching a small paper bag, Safe dipped her head to catch his gaze.

"Can I come in? It's quite cold here outside," Safe inhaled softly as she looked behind her, wind hovering around her small body.

"Oh, yeah, yeah, come in." Fred snapped out of his trance, stepping aside to let her in as she roamed around the entirety of the flat.

Safe turned to him with a beaming smile, "Nothing changed." She giggled softly, placing her stuff down on the coffee table and comfortably sat on the sofa.

She made herself comfortable, rubbing on the fabric of the cushions as she let the warmth of the fireplace kiss her exposed skin.

Fred scratched the back of his neck as he followed, "I didn't know you were visiting today." He admitted, sitting across from her.

Good. He told himself. You're not arguing, or not talking. He proudly stated.

"Really?" She sat up, "I sent an owl five days ago. I thought George would've told you." Safe shrugged, looking at a particular book under the table.

She flipped the pages, until it opened widely at a page where a polaroid film sat in between. Safe picked it up with a smile. "You still have this?" She said, waving the image of her, him, and Dior.

How time flies. How people changed.

But did they?

Change?

His melted chocolate eyes that took pictures of her warm two-toned smile. Still the same.

Her strawberry strands that hid her small glances on his freckled skin. Still the same.

"I didn't know it was there at all." Fred chuckled, reaching for it, left arm flexing on top of the coffee table as he balanced on it.

Safe nodded at his response. Then, the silence began to creep. The comfort soon shifted into awkwardness as the fire in the hearth.

She looked around once more, taking notice of the apron that hugged Fred just below his waist. "What'd you make?" She stated.

A long exhale mentally blew in her head. There was tension that she didn't quite like, but being around him felt less... painful.

Fred looked at her, "What?" He asked disoriented, earning a chuckle from the woman across.

"You're wearing an apron. I assumed you were cooking. Judging by the smell of fried eggs wandering around the flat, I'm certain you were."

Fred scoffed and leaned against his seat, crossing his arms as he kept his gaze on her. "Still the best Sherlock." He mocked at her with a devious smile.

Safe shrugged, "Still the worst cook. It smelled like you burnt it." She retorted back, which was entirely true. Her smirk was lovely, so sweet and playful.

He was never one to be a good cook. But he enjoyed trying and he enjoyed the 'experimentation' per se. And she loved hearing or witnessing all of it.

She shook her head as little chuckles slipped off her tongue. This feels nice. She thought.

"So... how long are you staying here?" Fred asked. It would be a huge fight with Callixta every single second, but he'd rather have that along with Safe's presence, than just Callixta's constant complaints.