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I followed Fred behind his shop to a staircase that wasn't visible to everyone walking through Diagon alley.
It was back where the dumpsters stood.
He led the way up the staircase to an orange door, almost identical to the door that led to their stop. This one wasn't a glass door though. It was wood, but it was painted in the same orange colour.
Fred fumbled with some keys, pushing one into the door before he turned it. The lock gave in, and he pushed open the door before stepping aside.
"Ladies first." He smiled cheekily at me, and I walked in, stopping to take a look at the large room we had just entered.
To my left, there was a second door, probably leading down to the shop.
It was a really big room, with the kitchen to my right and a bar in the kitchen. The living area was just in front of me, and in the back of the room, by the windows stood a round dining table, containing seven chairs.
There was a wall behind the dining table, a glass door leading into a room the shape of a circle, and I could see how cosy that area looked.
Comfortable chairs, and windows all around.
Between the kitchen and the dining table, there was a wide hallway leading down to four doors.
"Wow." I muttered, looking back at Fred as he shut the door, and I noticed that on this side, the front door was the natural brown colour of the wood.
"You've never been here, have you?" He asked curiously, pushing off his shoes, and I did the same, while shaking my head to answer his question.
I looked around at the flat again.
It was so cosy. The flat was more renovated than their childhood home, but other than that, it reminded me a lot of the burrow.
"George's room is the one at the end of the hallway." Fred told me as he watched me walk over and look down at the different doors.
And then he walked past me, making sure to brush my hip with his hand. He walked to the door on the left which was the only door on that side.
"This is mine." He said, walking into the bedroom.
I followed him but I stopped in the door and took in his bedroom. This was awfully intimate. For some reason even more than when we made out in my bedroom.
There was a desk to my left, a dresser to my right, and in front of me, under the windows, stood a king-sized bed with a nightstand on the right side of it.
There was a wardrobe shoved up against the left wall, and in the corner stood a comfortable-looking armchair with a side table next to it.
A few books laid on the side table, and curiosity got the better of me. I walked across the room while Fred stood by his nightstand.
