Fred Weasley

The Hogsmeade air was thick with the scent of caramel and wet pine needles. Snow fell in flakes on your shoulders, but you were still warm—Fred hadn't let go of your hand the whole way, warming your fingers in his pocket and making you laugh at stories about Mad-Eye Moody.

“Come in,” he commanded, pushing open the door to the Sweet Kingdom.

It was cramped and deafeningly sweet inside. Multicolored lollipops sparkled in their jars like precious stones. Fred stared fascinated at the floating fizzy pops, and you darted to the counter. A few Galleons clanked against the wood—and suddenly you were holding a huge bag of chocolate frogs, sugar feathers, licorice sticks, and more.

We walked out onto the porch. You handed the bag to Fred with a smile:

— Here you go. There are those chocolate balls with strawberry cream that you like.

Fred froze. His hand, reaching for the sweets, stopped. A shadow flickered in his mischievous eyes.

“Again,” he said quietly.

— What again? It's just candy, Fred.

He sighed, put his hands in his pockets and looked away:

"I'm ashamed. By the rules, I'm the one who should be showering you with gifts. With the Weasleys, an extra Sickle is a big deal, but you take out your wallet every time... It's a blow to my pride."

You came closer, put the bag on the railing and took it by the face:

"Fred, I don't care how much gold is in your Gringotts vault. You're giving away something no Galleon could buy."

You smiled and rubbed your nose against his cold nose:

— It's my money, and I'll decide who to spend it on.

Fred looked into your eyes - the ice melted, the familiar smirk returned.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to yours.