𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄-𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

like what you see? (f.w)

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– •

You found yourself sighing, finally content under the ruby sheets of Ginny's bed.  Her walls were covered in posters, many of which featuring the Chudley Cannons or the Holyhead Harpies.  You also spotted the Weird Sisters and many other muggle bands Hermione had introduced you to.  There wasn't an inch of wall left bare.

Chatting with the girls had been going well. They seemingly forgot about the events of that afternoon, indulging in their shared bag of sweets while discussing their plans for the upcoming Quidditch World Cup.  But when three red-heads had decided to join you — two of which being identical twins — you felt your heart begin to race once more.

Ron took the seat next to you, silently offering you one of his chocolate frogs.  You took it gratefully, sending him a smile in thanks.  You could always rely on your best friend.

Sitting quietly between them all, you kept to yourself as they made conversation.  You knew that if you opened your mouth even an inch, all eyes would be on you.  After the stunt you pulled, you were sure to be bombarded with questions.  And you did not have a death wish.

You found your eyes studying Fred, who was animatedly ‌chatting with his brother.  As usual, he and George seemed excited to share about one of their newest joke products.  You admired the dips and curves of his features, tracing each one of his many freckles with your eyes.   His smile caused your heart to flutter, and your lips to curve upward as well.

You jumped when his eyes met with yours.

His smile turned into a lazy smirk — that of a child who knows just how much trouble they've caused.  He didn't look away, keeping his warm gaze on you as though he was enjoying the effect he had.  You would have turned away, but the fear bubbling up in your chest left you panicking in your place.  You were rather glad when George whacked Fred up the side of his head.

"Oi!" Fred groaned, turning to his twin.  "What was that for, you git?"

"Ronald, here, asked you a question," George teased.  You hadn't missed the suggestive eyebrow wiggle he sent you.  He was clearly amused.

Ron repeated his question, "How do you plan on opening the shop?"

"We've got tricks up our sleeves, Ronniekins.  Don't you worry 'bout us!"

You giggled as Fred ruffled Ron's shaggy hair, hiding your blush as you munched on another chocolate frog.  But you hadn't missed the grin Fred sent you. 

And unbeknownst to you, neither had Ron.

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– •

It had been five days. Five days of sitting by the pond and admiring his soaking wet hair.  Five days of staying up late after bed, only to hear Fred strumming on his guitar from across the hall.  Five days of Fred's merciless, taunting, beautiful honey-brown gaze.

You thought you'd be a goner by now, having practically dropped dead when you caught him exiting the bathroom with nothing but a towel around his waist.

But here you are — still living and breathing under the very same roof as Fred Weasley.

You leaned your head in your palm, thinking hard before making your move on the chess board before you.  You were seated uncomfortably on the living room floor — Ron on the other end while anxiously drumming his fingers against the coffee table.

"Queen to E5," you ordered, smiling proudly when you took out his knight.  You looked up to bask in his downfall.  But you were surprised — Ron didn't look defeated.

"You alright?" you chuckled, noticing the way he ‌vigorously nodded his head.  He, too, was a terrible liar.

You sent him a knowing look as he manually moved his piece.