Y/n Cordelia Granger lived a happy but simple life in the suburbs of London with her parents and younger sister, Hermione, until her 11th birthday. As the day's sun beamed overhead, the young girl was covered in its light that glimmered with the pro...
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"Why don't you just tell her already?" Fred chuckled lowly, his lips twisting into a smirk as he watched his brother's eyes trail involuntarily to Y/n Granger for the fifth time that minute alone.
Fred Weasley knew his twin brother George Weasley better than anyone —better even than himself at times— and he knew that George had been gone for the muggleborn witch from the moment he bumped into her in Flourish and Blotts. But what started as the passing fancy of a sweaty handed and flushed face first year had become something much deeper.
George didn't miss a beat, not bothering to pry his eyes from her as he replied coolly, "No clue what you're talking 'bout, mate." His words were about as believable as a flobberworm flying and he and Fred both knew it. He didn't even bother to stifle the sly grin on his lips or muffle the flat sarcastic tone of his words as he told the bold faced lie.
The whole time he spoke, his affection filled gaze never strayed from where Y/n stood a few paces in front of him, walking alongside his father. The two were deep in conversation as the walk to the Portkey reached its final leg. About what he hadn't the foggiest, but whatever it was clearly riveted the both of them. Their faces were turned towards each other, their heads nearly pressed together as they spoke in hushed tones of excitement, and smiles that differed but measured in brightness were exchanged.
"Sure you don't." Fred scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief as a wry smile pulled at his lips. He turned to his brother and was as amused as he was smug to see the familiar glint in his eyes as they followed Y/n. It was the same smitten look that burrowed into each crevice of George's face whenever her name so much as passed through conversation.
He followed his twin's gaze to where their father and Y/n were engrossed in conversation. Silence swallowed the space between them for a minute before Fred's curiosity won out. "Whaddya reckon they're talking about?" He nodded his head to the curious pair in front of them.
That caught George's attention.
His brown eyes switched to the side of his brother's face and the freckles on his face twisted under the sun as his face stretched thoughtfully. After a moment of mulling it over he muttered with a fond huff, "Probably some muggle bits and bobs."
Fred chuckled. A low rumbling noise that wordlessly communicated his amusement and agreement.
It didn't take a genius to know Arthur Weasley had always been fascinated by muggles. In fact, all it took was a passing glance at the man and his desk in the ministry, riddled with an eclectic bunch of knick knacks like rainbow paper clips and rubber ducks, to know he was obsessed. So when two muggleborn witches and the muggle raised boy who lived become a fixture in his family's home overnight, he had no complaints. Rather, he was exuberant and had a gargantuan mountain of queries for them that no one dared to summit in fear of it avalanching.
