Adrien.

The late morning sun drifted lazily through the Burrow's mismatched windows, casting soft light over the living room floor. A sleepy hush had settled over the house, the rare kind of peace that felt like it might actually last more than five minutes.

I sat cross-legged on a patch of carpet near the hearth, eyes closed, hands resting on my knees. Meditation wasn't exactly second nature to me, but I'd gotten better at it—especially with the chaos of summer always threatening to crack open my skull. The tea cooling beside me smelled like mint and something slightly spicy; Katie had called it her "calm-the-hell-down blend." It was working. Mostly.

Across the room, Hermione was curled up in a battered armchair with a thick book balanced on her knees, flipping pages with that hyper-focused wrinkle between her brows.

Ginny and Katie were huddled near the coffee table, halfway through an enchanted game of checkers that hissed insults every time someone lost a piece.

"I swear," Ginny muttered as one of her checkers let out a shriek and burst into pink smoke, "this board is rigged."

"Just because it knows you cheat doesn't mean it's rigged," Katie said, smugly nudging another piece forward.

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "You're only this confident because you won last round."

"I'm confident because I'm better."

"You're lucky I don't challenge you to a rematch with exploding gobstones."

"Please do," Katie said sweetly. "I'd love to see you explain that to your mum."

"Absolutely not," Hermione said without looking up. "We're finally having a quiet morning. Let's not end it in hospital wing-level chaos."

I exhaled slowly and opened one eye. "We all know it's not going to stay quiet. Might as well enjoy it before someone gets hexed or emotionally compromised."

"Oh, like you weren't emotionally compromised this morning," Ginny said, grinning wickedly as she looked up from the board.

Hermione looked up over the top of her book, lips twitching. "Oh, the Fred moment."

Katie clasped her hands to her chest like she was about to serenade the room. "It was practically a short story. Fred half-dressed and battling his shirt like it had personally insulted his ancestors, and Adrien just swoops in and fixes him like it's the most natural thing in the world."

"He got stuck in the tie," Hermione added, now fully invested. "And she fixed it. Smooth as anything."

"Fred just stood there," Ginny said, eyes gleaming. "Watching her like she was the bloody moon."

I groaned, dragging a pillow over my face. "I hate all of you."

"You love us," Katie sang.

"You were beaming," Hermione said. "Don't lie. It was so soft."

Ginny leaned forward. "And then he said he might have to marry you out of principle. Out loud. In front of everyone."

"I was helping," I muttered into the pillow.

"Helping with the most obvious heart eyes we've ever seen," Katie said.

"Domestic Weasley chaos," Hermione added. "Very on-brand."

"Fred's smirk was practically illegal," Ginny said. "I mean, even your tea got flustered."

I peeled the pillow away just long enough to say, "He was wearing it backwards. I had to intervene."

"Oh, you intervened," Katie said with mock gravity. "With your hands. And your tender gazes. And your soul."

I gave up and let the pillow fall back over my face.

Hermione chuckled. "It was honestly adorable. If mildly scandalous."

Ginny beamed. "Honestly? Couple goals."

And just like that, the peaceful morning began its slow, hilarious descent into chaos.

Although I was half relieved when a knock on the kitchen door pulled all of our attention away from the subject as Molly bustled in, apron dusted with flour, holding a small folded note in her hand.

"Girls," she said, slightly breathless. "The boys have sent word—they need you at the shop immediately. Something about a mess. An urgent one."

Adrien shot upright. "What kind of mess?"

"They didn't say," Molly said. "Just that it was... impressive."

Ginny grinned. "I think we know what this is."

Hermione stood, already gathering her bag. "Well, we're not letting you two have all the fun."

"I second that," Ginny added. "No way I'm missing the aftermath. Now, remind me again—how does the cure work?"

I smiled, "If they didn't follow our organization process, the ceiling would allow pink glitter to fall, like snow...and the only way to stop it is for whoever broke the protocol to admit it—"

"What about the one that cast the curse?" Hermione inserted.

"We never said we were removing the prank from the ceiling." Katie smirked.

Katie and I exchanged a look—and a slow, building smirk.

"Alright," I said, grabbing my shoes. "Let's go check on our trap."

And with that, the four of us flooed directly to the backroom fireplace at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

When we stepped into the shop, it was like stepping into a fairy tale gone horribly, hilariously wrong.

Pink glitter. Everywhere.

Fred, George, Rowan, Ron, and Harry stood in the middle of the chaos—covered head to toe in shimmering fallout. It coated their hair, their clothes, and in George's case, somehow his tongue.

Fred looked at me, arms raised. "I just restocked a shelf. That's all I did!"

"Did you do it correctly?" Katie asked, grinning.

"I alphabetized!" Rowan called.

"That's not how the system works!" Hermione cried, exasperated.

George dramatically dropped to his knees. "Please. Please undo it. I can taste sparkles."

Fred looked at me, a hand brushing glitter off his arm. "You're telling me this was you?"

"No," I said sweetly. "We're telling you it was one of us."

"But which one?" Katie added.

Ginny beamed. "That's for you to find out."

Fred stepped closer, glitter dusting his lashes. "Tell me now and I'll owe you a favor."

"You already owe me your soul," I said.

His grin darkened. "You want to collect now?"

George groaned. "Gross. Save it for the stockroom."

"Oh, don't tempt me," Fred said, brushing a bit of glitter from my shoulder. "Honestly, watching you work a prank curse into the ceiling like it's an art form? Possibly the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"You're into structural enchantments now?" I teased.

"I'm into you," he said, low and rough.

Rowan cleared his throat. "Alright, alright—before they combust."

We turned.

Rowan raised one hand. "Fine. It was me. I broke protocol. I didn't log the stock re-shelving. I didn't know glitter would rain from the heavens like divine punishment."

Katie crossed her arms, trying not to smirk. "Well, well. The mighty Rowan Woods. Brought low by an enchanted binder. Oh how the mighty have fallen."

"I feel betrayed," he said, glitter sticking to his eyebrows. "But also kind of impressed."

"That's fair," she said, lips twitching. "Apology accepted. Maybe."

That's when it became noticeable, the gentle glitter that kept descending from the ceiling slowly stopped falling. As quietly and as subtle as snow.

Hermione, still ducking under a floating swirl of glitter, cleared her throat. "Can we shop now?"

"Please," I said, linking my arm with hers. "I need more quills, anyway."

"Shopping?" Fred echoed. "You came to torment us and you're shopping?"

"We're multitaskers," Ginny said, flipping her hair dramatically. "Try to keep up."

"Besides," shot Katie, joining Hermione and myself down an aisle. "You called us, remember?"

And with that, we moved into the aisles—glitter swirling above, laughter trailing behind.

Eventually, the shop started to settle again. Katie, Hermione, Ginny, and I wandered to the shelves, grabbing a few extra supplies.

That's when the bell chimed.

And Blaise Zabini walked in.

With Draco.

I stiffened instantly, every muscle in my body locking into place.

Fred, trailing next to me, noticed. Immediately.

Blaise's eyes found me in less than three seconds. "Well," he said, "looks like the shop's brighter than usual."

Fred stepped forward. "Try again, mate. This one's taken."

Blaise gave him a once-over. "Still playing boyfriend, are we?"

Fred didn't even flinch. "Playing? No. Winning? Absolutely."

Draco, meanwhile, looked toward Katie. "Didn't know you worked here."

Katie didn't miss a beat. "Didn't know you still spoke in public."

Rowan's eyebrows lifted, eyes ping-ponging between them.

"Complicated?" he asked.

"Understatement," Katie muttered.

Fred rested a hand on the small of my back, grounding me. My fingers twitched.

"Let them shop," I said coolly, voice level.

Blaise smirked. "Just browsing. Might find something worth remembering."

"You won't," I shot back.

Draco and Blaise split up across the aisles, and Fred leaned in. "Want to go check the stockroom?"

I gave him a pointed look. "To escape or snog?"

"Both," he said without hesitation.

We moved toward the back—Rowan still watching Draco, Katie still watching Blaise, and all of us wondering what the hell they were really doing here.

Once we stepped into the stockroom, Fred closed the door gently behind us. The sudden quiet settled like a warm cloak over my shoulders, muting the distant sound of Harry and Ron still sweeping glitter and George cursing under his breath.

Fred didn't waste time. He stepped in front of me, hands finding my hips, grounding but soft. "You alright?" he asked, his voice low.

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I pressed my hands against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his breath. "It's just... Blaise."

He nodded like he understood. And he did.

"I don't want to talk about it. Not yet," I murmured.

"You don't have to," Fred said, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear. "Just wanted to make sure you know—I'm here. You're not doing any of this alone."

That heat that had simmered all day stirred again, stronger now.

"Fred..."

He leaned closer, his forehead brushing mine, his hands sliding up to cup my jaw with the kind of gentleness that always undid me. "You're mine, Adrien. And I'm yours. He doesn't get to touch that—not even with a look."

My breath caught as I tipped my chin up, our lips barely grazing. "I like you possessive."

"Yeah?" His voice was all grit and heat.

"Yeah," I breathed. "Don't stop."

He didn't kiss me—not yet. But the way his thumbs brushed across my cheeks, the fire in his eyes, the way he held me like I might slip through his fingers if he didn't... it was all there.

And then the door creaked slightly.

We pulled apart just enough to look toward the noise.

George's voice filtered through. "They're checking out."

Fred let out a slow breath and pressed a kiss to my temple. "Let's make sure he knows what he lost."

We stepped out of the stockroom to find Blaise and Draco at the counter—Rowan ringing them up, his jaw tight and his glare locked on Draco like he was daring him to speak. Draco didn't, but his gaze kept flicking toward Katie like she was a puzzle he hadn't solved yet.

Fred slipped behind the register with a grin that was all teeth. "I'll handle this one, Rowan."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Aw, come on, Weasley. Afraid I'll charm your girl again?"

Fred didn't even blink. "You couldn't charm your way out of a wet paper bag."

Katie snorted as she leaned against the nearest shelf.

Blaise scoffed. "I see jealousy's still your best look."

Fred smiled, slow and dangerous. "Nope. Just protective. And lucky. Which you're not."

I didn't say anything. Just stood beside Fred, fingers brushing his lightly on the counter—mine. Not his.

Rowan glanced sideways at Draco again, who had the audacity to look vaguely amused.

But even he knew.

He wasn't the story anymore.

Once the door shut behind the two of them, the energy in the shop shifted.

Katie rolled her eyes and muttered, "Please tell me they're not coming back anytime soon."

I turned toward the shelves. "Let's go grab the summer supply list before someone else from our past decides to swing by."

The sun dipped below the trees by the time we all gathered out back at the Burrow, golden light giving way to flickering orange from the freshly conjured bonfire. A lazy spiral of smoke drifted into the evening sky, and the crackle of flames filled the gentle lull of laughter, rustling leaves, and clinking butterbeer bottles.

I leaned into Fred's chest as he lounged behind me on a conjured bench, his arms wrapped around my waist, his fingers toying with the edge of my shirt like he couldn't quite keep still.

Ginny, Hermione, Katie, and Rowan sat around the pit with the rest—Ron still arguing Quidditch with Harry, George occasionally hexing their shoes together mid-rant. Everyone was warm, flushed from laughter and heat, and just relaxed enough that the stress of earlier felt like a distant echo.

"Earlier," I said quietly, turning slightly to glance up at Fred. "That thing you said, about marrying me out of principle."

He smirked, but it was softer than usual. "Yeah?"

"The girls, they've been on a rampage ever since."

"Good." His voice dropped, gravelly and low, as he leaned closer to my ear. "I meant it."

My stomach did something ridiculous.

"You sure you're not just into the shirt-fixing part?" I teased.

"Oh, love," he whispered, voice warm against my skin. "That's just foreplay."

I tried not to squirm. Failed.

"You're trouble," I muttered, my fingers brushing across his wrist where he held me.

"I'm your trouble," he said.

Across the fire, Katie was laughing—eyes squinting as Rowan said something with mock indignation. She shoved his arm playfully, and he leaned in close, whispering something that made her roll her eyes, but she didn't push him away.

Eventually, she quieted, and her voice carried just enough to catch my attention.

"It's not like we had some epic downfall," she said, staring into the fire. "He made choices that didn't include me. I made choices to walk away."

Rowan was still, watching her closely.

"But it wasn't nothing, was it?" he asked.

Katie shook her head. "No. It just... wasn't enough. Not after everything with his family, his father, the threats. I was a liability. And he let me believe that."

Rowan didn't speak at first.

Then—quietly—he said, "That's not happening again."

She looked over, startled.

"I don't know what this is," he added with a shrug. "But you're not a liability to me."

Katie didn't respond. But she didn't look away either.

I smiled, but it faded at the memory of Blaise and I—making me glanced back up at Fred. "Do you think we're okay?"

He nodded without hesitation. "We're fire and trouble and glitter and chaos." He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of my ear. "And I wouldn't want it any other way."

I leaned back into him, letting the heat of the bonfire settle into my bones.

For a moment, everything was exactly where it needed to be.

Of course that's when George stood and cleared his throat dramatically. "Ladies, gents, Weasleys and miscreants—may I introduce... the Midnight Firework Duel."

Katie groaned. "George, we're not allowed to use magic this close to the house. Your mum—"

"Would murder us," Hermione cut in. "Brilliant idea."

George just grinned wider and reached for a large crate near the woodpile. "Ah, but these—" he opened it with a flourish—"are defective."

Fred lifted an eyebrow. "Defective?"

"Too volatile to sell, too charmed to toss. They don't need magic to go off, just a match."

Ginny gasped like she'd been handed the Philosopher's Stone.

"Rules are simple," George continued. "Teams of two. Launch your firework and try to out-blast the last one. Most impressive wins."

Fred turned to me, his mouth already too close to my ear. "Partner?"

I smirked. "Only if you don't mind losing to me."

His arm wrapped tighter around my waist. "Love, I would lose to you gladly—as long as I get to watch you light the fuse."

Rowan and Katie were already arguing over which spark wand to use, Hermione begrudgingly agreed to time the rounds, and George threw the first firework to Ron like it was a gauntlet.

The first few rounds were chaos—shrieking rockets, color-changing bursts, one that screamed every name from Hogwarts house rosters as it exploded in the shape of a toad.

Then it was our turn.

Fred and I took our place at the edge of the clearing, our chosen firework in hand.

"You sure you want to do this?" I asked, kneeling beside the crate.

"Watching you in this light? Absolutely." His voice dropped low as he leaned close. "You look like a spark waiting to go off."

I didn't say anything—just lit the match, touched it to the fuse, and stepped back as the firework screamed into the sky.

The explosion was massive—silver and scarlet and glittering pink, with spirals that spun and reformed into hearts before fading into smoke. Everyone whooped.

Fred turned to me slowly, a hand finding my waist again. "That was almost as beautiful as the prank you pulled."

I raised an eyebrow. "Still thinking about that?"

"I haven't stopped."

We stumbled back through the field laughing, pushed by the thrill of it all, until Fred tripped on a gopher hole and we landed hard in the wheat just beyond the tree line.

I blinked up at him, breath catching. He was braced above me again, but the look in his eyes wasn't teasing now. It was molten.

His hand found mine, slow and sure. The wheat whispered around us, tall golden stalks hiding everything but the burn between our bodies.

"Still the most beautiful thing I've seen all day," he whispered, voice low and rough.

My breath hitched, pulse thudding. "Is that before or after I hexed you into a glitter cloud this morning?"

He leaned down a little more, nose brushing mine. "Oh, that's what sealed the deal."

"Fred," I warned, but my fingers curled in the front of his shirt anyway.

"Yes, love?"

"You're hovering."

"Am I?" he murmured, his thigh sliding between mine, anchoring us both in place. "Could've sworn I was just... appreciating the view."

My mouth parted, but nothing witty came out. Just air. Heat.

He smiled, wicked and slow. "You keep looking at me like that, and I'm going to forget we're surrounded by wheat and not somewhere I can properly show you what you do to me."

"You say that like it's not already obvious," I whispered, pulse fluttering beneath my skin.

Fred's hand trailed down my side, slow and reverent, until it rested just above my hip. "You're dangerous, Adrien. You know that?"

"Good," I breathed, tugging him closer. "So are you."

His forehead rested gently against mine, the air crackling between us.

"We shouldn't," I murmured.

"I know."

But neither of us moved.

The firework pops still echoed faintly in the distance, but here—under the shimmer of starlight and the brush of summer wheat—there was only us. Tangled in heat and almosts. Held together by everything we hadn't said.

And for one suspended moment, the world didn't matter. Just the space between his mouth and mine.

And how terrifyingly close we were to erasing it.