Fred Weasley

He paused at the entrance to the shop. Fred Weasley, the life of the party, was more serious than ever. The shop was buzzing—George was entertaining customers with flying candies, and the air smelled of smoke and molasses—but for Fred, the noise faded into a distant background.

She just ran out, slamming the door. It had been a stupid argument. He'd teased her again in front of the customers, and she, always cheeky, had suddenly taken serious offense. Fred ran his hand over his face. "Idiot."

Everyday life became dull without her laughter. In the silence of the utility room, where the scent of her perfume still lingered, nothing was funny.

Fred pulled off his jacket decisively.

"Hey, bro," George raised an eyebrow. "Presentation in an hour. Where are you going?"

"On business." Fred stepped toward the door. "Urgent."

He found her in the park, on a bench. She was sitting with her arms wrapped around herself.

“Go away, Fred,” she said quietly.

Instead of answering, he sat down next to her.

"I brought something," he said, taking out a box containing a new invention—"Heart Phantoms." They displayed the most precious memory.

She pressed.

There was a shimmer in the air: her laughing face and next to him, looking at her with love.

"Fred..." she breathed out.

“I’m a fool,” he took her hand. “I like to tease you because I love your reactions. It’s just... I love you. All of you. Even when you’re offended.”

Her lips twitched into a smile. She remained silent, but her fingers intertwined with his.