Consequences Of Mischief: FRED WEASLEY ENEMIES TO LOVERS

Straightforward

The morning sun filtered through the Burrow's windows as Morgan and Fred stood before Molly's extensive list of chores. The parchment seemed to stretch endlessly, filled with magical tasks that needed attention. The two of them squabbled over which task to tackle first.

"We should begin with the ghoul in the attic. It's a straightforward task, gets things done quickly," Morgan suggested, glancing over the list.

Fred responded with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

"Typical of you to choose the most boring and practical option. Should've expected that."

"What's that supposed to mean? It's the sensible approach – efficient and effective. It gets you back to Quidditch practice sooner and keeps you out of my hair, right?"

Fred hesitated, a brief pause betraying his internal conflict. Unbeknownst to Morgan, if she had spared a glance at him during that moment, she might have noticed a faint blush coloring the tops of his ears. But, captivated by the practicality of her own argument, she missed it entirely.

"Right," says Fred, and suddenly, a mischievous grin appears on his face, erasing any trace of his previous hesitation.

Morgan, arms folded, regarded him skeptically. "And what do you suggest, then?"

"Let's tackle the garden gnomes. It's more enjoyable, and we've got the most energy early on, like right now."

"UGHHHHHHHHHH, fine. How do we do this?"

Fred's grin widened. "You love Muggle stuff, don't you?"

Morgan rolled her eyes. "What's your point?"

"Ever heard of Whack-A-Mole?"

---

Three hours later, the Burrow's garden had become a battlefield. 

Morgan toiled under the relentless sun, sweat dripping from her brow as she grappled with the relentless gnomes. Her initial layers of clothing were shed, leaving her in a white camisole and a black sports bra, her muscles working in overdrive. 

 Just as she was engrossed in her work, the door creaked open, and Fred stepped out. 

His eyes widened at the sight of Morgan's stripped-down state, the camisole clinging to her damp skin. For a moment, he forgot about the chores.

"About time you joined the real world, Weasley. Thought you might be lost in your own bathroom with that long a break."

Fred shook himself out of the trance, a sheepish grin playing on his lips. "Well, someone has to maintain basic hygiene. Can't let the garden gnomes distract me from that, can I?"

Morgan shot him an annoyed look but continued with her task. "Just grab a de-gnoming glove and help out. We need to finish this before it starts to get dark and I swear you've been NO help."

Fred obediently fetched a glove, joining Morgan in the gnome-chasing extravaganza. 

As they worked side by side, a banter unfolded, each word layered with a mix of irritation and unspoken tension.

"You know, if you put half the effort into this as you do into your elaborate pranks, we'd be done by now," Morgan quipped, eyeing Fred's seemingly carefree demeanor.

Fred chuckled, "Where's the fun in efficiency? We're making memories here, Morgan."

She rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile. 

"This isn't a fond memory; it's a chore."

"It's both..."

Fred tried to focus on the task at hand, but Morgan's figure in the summer sun proved to be quite distracting. He fumbled with a gnome, his eyes momentarily meeting hers.