Whispers in the Dark-Fred Weasley

"Stop moving," I groan, placing my hands firmly on Fred's shoulders to steady him. He sits on a wobbly wooden chair in the bathroom, a towel draped over his neck, looking far too smug for someone trusting me with scissors. I stand behind him, scissors poised, my brow furrowed in concentration.

Molly had been relentless about the boys' unruly hair, finally giving Fred and George an ultimatum: let her cut it or find someone else to do it. Naturally, Fred decided I was the lucky winner of that particular lottery. And here we are.

I sigh, running my fingers through Fred's strawberry-blonde locks, untangling a few stray strands. "I'm gonna miss your long hair," I admit, the words slipping out before I can stop them.

He catches my eyes in the mirror, a playful smirk spreading across his face. "Oh, don't tell me you've been admiring it all this time, Malfoy."

I roll my eyes, pretending to ignore the way his teasing tone sends a flutter through my chest. "Don't flatter yourself, Weasley. I'm just saying it'll be nice not to see you looking like a deranged lion every day."

He chuckles, the sound low and rich. "Admit it — you'll miss me looking this handsome."

I lift a section of his hair and snip a little too close to his ear, making him jump. "Keep talking, and I'll make sure you walk out of here with a lopsided haircut."

"Dangerous," he quips, his grin widening. "I like it."

I shake my head, biting back a smile as I focus on evening out the layers. The quiet snip of the scissors fills the room, mingling with the faint hum of conversation drifting up from downstairs. Fred, surprisingly, stays still for once, letting me work in relative peace.

"You're pretty good at this," he says after a while, his voice softer, almost contemplative.

I glance at him in the mirror. "What, did you think I'd butcher it?"

"I mean, you've got the whole ice-queen thing going on. Figured you'd want revenge for all the pranks."

I smack the back of his head lightly, laughing. "Keep that up, and I might reconsider."

He turns his head slightly, his grin back in full force. "You'd never."

"Try me," I warn, but there's no real heat in my voice.

As I finish up, I step back to admire my work. His hair is shorter now, the strawberry-blonde strands neatly trimmed and framing his face in a way that makes his sharp cheekbones stand out even more. Damn him for looking good no matter what.

"All done," I say, brushing off his shoulders. "You're free to go."

Fred stands, turning to face me. "How do I look?" He leans in slightly, a cocky glint in his eyes.

I cross my arms, pretending to scrutinize him. "Passable, I suppose."

"Just passable?" he teases, taking a step closer.

I raise an eyebrow, holding up the scissors between us. "Careful, Weasley. I still have these."

He laughs, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright. Thanks for saving me from Mum's wrath."

I shake my head, unable to suppress the smile tugging at my lips. "Send George in, please."

Fred raises an eyebrow, his smirk tilting into something more curious. "Oh, so now George gets the royal treatment too?"

I roll my eyes, waving the scissors at him mockingly. "Don't start, Fred. Your mum would have my head if I left one of you looking decent and the other looking like a wild animal."