⚯ ͛: hi my name is leia! i am a weasley twins lover (fanatic), eighteen and a writer :p

more abt me :: virgo , nigerian , hufflepuff !

please note :: though i write about harrypotter i do not condone or support jk rowling. thankya.

⋆˙⟡🪶─ NO MUGGLES BEYOND THIS POINT ݁ ˖

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ warning: the only movie I’ve fully watched was the philosophers stone when i was a child. please note that i have not watched all the movies and my knowledge of Harry Potter is very limited but i hope you can enjoy my works none the less.

warning: baby harry-potter fan , might be some errors in the timeline / ooc charcaters

notes: this takes place in a wizarding world were the characters greatest threat is flunking out of school. no war. no voldemart shenanigans. everyone lives. + featuring gryffindor [Y/n] with a best friend in hufflepuff.

summary: you want someone to ask you to the yule ball. cedric diggory gets the ball rolling. george realizes that he has to act fast.

Talk of the Yule Ball had reached a fever pitch.

You sat in the Great Hall with a book open in front of you, pretending—badly—to study. You turned each page with emphasized care, eyes skimming lines you weren’t really reading. In truth, you were scanning the room.

Watching. Waiting. For what? To be asked.

You had just settled in when two familiar flashes of red appeared on either side of you.

“What’re you reading there?” Fred asked, sliding onto the bench to your right, sitting backwards with his arms draped lazily over the table.

“Homework?” George added, taking the seat to your left properly, leaning in just close enough to invade your space.

You snapped the book shut with a sigh. “Boys. You’re ruining my plan.”

“Plan?” They exchanged a look over your head before turning back to you in unison.

You rested your palms on the cover. “I haven’t been asked to the Yule Ball yet. And I’m starting to think it’s because I’m always with my friends—or with you two. People are probably too intimidated to ask.”

The twins laughed instantly.

“You sure that’s the reason, love?” George asked, amused.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Of course it is.”

“Well, you’re not alone,” Fred said, folding his arms. “Even the Golden Trio are struggling.”

“You’ll get one soon,” he added, giving your shoulder a reassuring pat.

You shrugged him off with a huff.

“Well, do you have a date?”

He grinned. “Angie, remember?”

Right. The paper-ball incident from yesterday. You still couldn’t believe that worked. Or that she agreed.

“Well, either way,” you muttered, “I won’t make any progress if the two of you are sitting here.”

“Pushing us away already?” Fred gasped, clutching his chest.

“After all the effort we made to walk you to your next class?” George added, mirroring him.

“The pain!” they cried together, pretending to swoon.

You rolled your eyes and shoved them away.

“Come on—go. I’ve got five good minutes left. Come back later.”

Fred tilted his head. “Do you need a new watch? Class starts in three minutes.”

You glanced down. Then froze. Then looked back up at him. “Seriously?!”

You jumped to your feet, groaning. Water had gotten into your watch earlier—it must’ve been behind all day. You couldn’t believe you’ve made it this far without being late.

The twins burst into laughter as they followed you toward the doors. Just as the three of you reached the entrance, you nearly collided with someone tall and solid.

“Oh—sorry, Cedric!” you blurted.

Cedric Diggory smiled warmly.

“[Y/N]. Just the person I was looking for. Good afternoon, Weasleys.”

“Afternoon!” Fred and George replied together.

Your stomach flipped. ‘Me? He was looking for me?’

“I wanted to ask,” Cedric continued, “do you already have a date to the Yule Ball?”

Your mouth fell open just as the twins stiffened beside you.

You could feel eyes turning and whispers rippling. Cedric Diggory—the boy half of Hogwarts dreamed of going with—was asking you. And yet here you were—frozen.

“I—uh—no,” you managed. “No one’s asked yet.”

Before Cedric could say another word, George gently but firmly took your hand.

“Sorry, mate,” he said smoothly, already pulling you away. “She’s late for class. Maybe give her some time to think about it?”

As surprising as it was, George was right. You nodded quickly.

“I—I’ll tell you next time I see you,” you said, breathless.

And just like that, George whisked you down the corridor, Fred following with an unreadable grin.

You pressed your hands to your face as you ran.

“I can’t believe that just happened! Cedric Diggory asked me!”

“Are you going to go with him?” Fred asked.

George shot him a glare.

You slowed, thinking. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Fred laughed. “Weren’t you just about to cry because no one asked you?”

“I was not about to cry,” you protested. “I just wanted to be asked. That doesn’t mean I’ll go with the first person who does.”

“Oh,” Fred said knowingly. “So you want to play the game.”

You shrugged. “I guess...”

You reached your classroom soon after and said your goodbyes, leaving the twins alone in the corridor.

Fred knew George had planned to ask you that day. Neither of them expected Cedric to beat him to it—and George wasn’t hiding his jealousy very well.

“Can’t believe you pulled her away like that,” Fred said quietly. “Then again… that’s exactly what I’d do.”

George exhaled. “I just didn’t want to hear her say yes. Not in front of me.”

“Well,” Fred said, clapping his shoulder, “you’d better ask her soon.”

***

By dinner, you were seated between Angelina and George, Fred beside Angelina.

You were recounting the day just when a Ravenclaw boy you barely recognized tapped your shoulder.

“I—I was wondering if you already had a date to the Yule Ball?”

Your eyes widened again. Just what was happening today? This was your third confession today.

“No,” you said carefully, “but I’ll think about it.”

The boy grinned and fist-pumped as he walked away.

“Blimey,” Ron said. “You’re on a roll.”

“It’s must be because Cedric asked you earlier,” Angelina added pointedly.

Ron’s eyes bulged. “Cedric Diggory asked you?!”

You nodded.

“Now everyone’s curious as to what type of girl you are,” Angelina continued, her gaze flicking meaningfully to George. “It probably gave some the confidence to ask before he stole you away.”

You turned to George. “Isn’t this mad? No one asked me at all until today!”

“Maybe,” he said quietly, “you should go with someone you know.”

“Cedric?” You question. “I know him, but I think I’d be too nervous to enjoy myself.”

“Then maybe you should go with me.”

You paused, turning to George with a stunned look on your face. For a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. No one else seemed to hear what he’d said—Angelina and Fred were deep in conversation, while Hermione, Ron, and Harry were occupied with their own discussion.

George, meanwhile, continued eating as if nothing monumental had just happened, calmly spearing a potato with his fork. It was almost unnerving—like he hadn’t just casually asked you to the Yule Ball.

“…Honestly?” you asked, your voice quiet and careful, searching his face. You needed to know this wasn’t one of his jokes.

He finally looked at you. Really looked at you.

“Honest,” he said simply. “I was going to ask you today. Cedric just beat me to it.”

Your mouth stayed open, your thoughts scrambling to catch up. You didn’t know what to say. Truthfully, you’d hoped—quietly, secretly—that George might ask you. You just never knew if he felt the same way, or if you were reading too much into stolen glances and shared laughter.

Gradually, the people around you began to notice.

“What’s wrong, [Y/N]?” Hermione asked, brow furrowed.

“Yeah,” Ron added, glancing at you. “Your mouth’s open like you’re waiting for seconds.”

You shot him a glare.

“Nothing’s wrong,” George said easily, answering for you. “She’s just deciding which version of yes she wants to say to me.”

Your jaw dropped all over again.

Angelina’s face lit up instantly. “You finally asked!” she squealed, clapping her hands together.

Fred grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “About time,” he said proudly.

The Golden Trio looked between all of you, confused but quickly catching on. Then, as if the weight of it all finally settled, you locked eyes with your Hufflepuff friend across the hall. Merlin. Tomorrow’s debrief was going to be chaos.

You turned back to George, smiling softly.

“Well,” you said, warmth flooding your voice, “after everything we’ve been through… how could I say no?”

George’s answering smile was genuine and a little relieved as he slipped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a gentle side hug.

And just like that, it was settled.

Now came the difficult part—turning down the other boys who’d asked. You’d gone from being the girl Cedric Diggory wanted to take to the Yule Ball…

…to the girl who chose George Weasley instead.

I just wanted to mention something in your last fic, the George one. The summary doesn’t seem to fit with the story, could it be you might’ve mistaken it for something else you were going to write? Just telling you in case it was a mistake or I’m just reading things wrong. Ty! 🤍🤍

omgg thank you sososo much! i wrote these as i was waking up (i was probably still asleep), that summary is for a fic i still need to edit!

warning: baby harry-potter fan , might be some errors in the timeline / ooc charcaters

notes: this takes place in a wizarding world were the charcaters greatest threat is flunking out of school. no war. no voldemart shenanigans. everyone lives. + featuring gryffindor [Y/n] with a best friend in hufflepuff.

summary: george weasley looooooves physical touch.

George Weasley loves physical touch.

He loves it casually, instinctively—like it’s second nature.

He especially loves when you wear short shirts, baby-doll tees, anything that leaves your skin within easy reach. It gives him excuses to poke, pinch, or brush his fingers against your side as he passes. Always playful. Always teasing. Always pretending it’s accidental when it very clearly isn’t.

***

George Weasley loves physical touch.

The two of you hug all the time, but there’s one hug that stays with him more than the rest.

It happened during a Halloween party.

Someone had brought up Spin the Bottle—a Muggle game—and soon it escalated into Seven Minutes in Heaven. When your names were called, the room erupted into cheers.

Two people, one closet, seven minutes.

Nothing actually happened. At least, nothing you’d admit to. But the two of you decided to make it interesting. You both banged on the door, whispered loudly, and made exaggerated noises until everyone outside was convinced that the two of you were partaking in scandalous activities.

Seven minutes, however, was a long time.

Eventually, the performance dissolved into laughter. Quiet at first, then uncontrollable, until you were both pressed against the door, shoulders shaking, trying not to give yourselves away.

When it was finally time to come out, you rose onto your heels and swept your hands over George’s shoulders, fingers brushing his neck.

“Well?” you asked lightly. “Will you be my Prince Charming and carry me out?”

Your fingers grazed the nape of his neck, slipping into his hair.

George swore his brain stopped working.

He wrapped his arms around you without hesitation, hands settling at the small of your back. Your costume made it far too easy for his palms to rest against bare skin. He hugged like a bear—leaning his entire weight into you—and you shivered, stumbling back and knocking something over behind you.

He leaned into the crook of your neck and whispered, voice low and mischievous,

“Let’s give them a show, yeah?”

Your face burned, but the closet was dark enough that you hoped he couldn’t see it. If he did, he would never let you forget this. Never.

When the door finally opened, George swept you up in a dramatic princess carry. You clung to his neck, raising one arm triumphantly.

“I heard you all making bets that we wouldn’t last,” you called. “Pay up.”

“What’s to say you two actually did anything?” a Slytherin boy asked skeptically.

George smirked. “What’s to say we didn’t?”

***

Fred and George were always surprising you, so one day, you decided to return the favor.

You crossed the courtyard quietly, heart racing, and slipped up behind them, covering both their eyes with your hands.

Leaning in, you whispered, “Guess who.”

“Well, it’s obviously [Y/N],” Fred said easily. “You’re the only one who laughs before you even finish the sentence.”

He pulled your hand down to look at you.

George didn’t.

He stayed perfectly still, caught on the feeling of your hands over his eyes—the softness, the warmth against his lashes and cheeks. He lifted one hand and held yours there, not ready to let go.

“Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “I could tell by your voice.”

Then, softer, almost to himself: “And your hands are really soft.”

You sighed and dropped down to sit between them like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You would have to one up them another time.

***

You once managed to bring a Muggle handheld game to Hogwarts.

After that, George was always pressed against you.

Shoulder to shoulder. Thigh to thigh. Close enough that there was no space at all. He claimed it was so he could see the screen better, but you knew better as you tapped away at the buttons, determined to beat the level.

Whenever you messed up, he’d ask to switch—learning the controls frighteningly fast. Somehow, he figured out how to glitch the game entirely, giving you two hundred extra hearts instead of the usual three.

He grinned at you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

***

George Weasley loves physical touch.

And on cold days at Hogwarts, he’s especially attentive to you.

You forget your cloak more often than you’d like to admit, and George notices every time. Sometimes he wordlessly slips his own cloak around your shoulders, the fabric far too big for you and smelling faintly like smoke and peppermint. Other times, he presses something warm into your palm—a sneaky little heat charm that spreads through your fingers and seeps into your bones within seconds.

But his favorite move?

Coming up behind you and wrapping himself around you completely.

The day was bitterly cold. The kind that seeped through stone walls and settled deep in your chest. You’re standing in the courtyard, arms folded tight around yourself, standing with Leia as you waited for one of your friends. The three of you were going to go to Hogsmeade—after making a stop at gryffindor to collect the coat you forgot.

You shiver.

“[Y/n], just how forgetful are you? There’s literal snow on the ground and yet you still walked out here in just a cardigan?” Leia scolded you, putting on her yellow mittens.

Before you can complain, warmth surrounds you.

George steps in behind you, arms sliding around your shoulders as he pulled you flush against him. It’s immediate—the heat, the weight, and the way he fits around you like he was built for this. He’s solid and warm, all Quidditch-hardened muscle and comfort, and he easily dwarfs you, making you feel small (and warm) in the safest way.

“She’s right, you’re freezing,” he murmurs near your ear, more fond than scolding.

You relax without thinking, sinking back into his chest. His cloak falls around both of you, and his arms tighten just enough to keep the cold out.

“We were going to head back to my dorm to get my coat anyways.” You murmured, taking in his warmth and steady breaths.

He was like a bear. Warm and protective.

Your friend watched the two of you, raising an eyebrow at you. You already knew she was going to tease you for this later.

Your fingers curl into George’s sleeves as you tuck your face into his cloak, hiding away from the cold wind.

“Where are you guys off too?” George asks.

“Hogsmeade,” you say quietly. “A little girls trip.”

George rests his chin on the top of your head, swaying slightly. “Sounds like fun,” he said.

Leia grins. “It will be fun.”

Just then, the friend you were waiting for steps out, apologizing for being late. That’s when George’s presence leaves you, as he pats your head. “Well, Fred and I have detention—a failed experiment damaged school property. See you soon [Y/n].”

You waved goodbye to him as he trudged away in the snow.

“So, you want to tell me why the two of you were cuddling out in public?” Leia asked, you turn away from her.

“That wasn’t cuddling.” You mumble, your face heating up.

“Right… just like that isn’t snow on the ground.” She retorts.

What the two of you shared couldn’t be described as a normal friendship. Especially when it so casually floated across the line of boundaries most people had.

warning: baby harry-potter fan , might be some errors in the timeline / ooc charcaters

notes: this takes place in a wizarding world were the charcaters greatest threat is flunking out of school. no war. no voldemart shenanigans. everyone lives. + featuring gryffindor [Y/n] with a best friend in hufflepuff.

summary: everyone knows you and the weasley twins are inseparable — but how did it get that way?

You were a Gryffindor by sorting, but everyone knew that you spent just as much time in Hufflepuff.

Your best friend—Leia—had been sorted there when the two of you first arrived. Since then, the Hufflepuff common room had quietly adopted you as an honorary member.

You lounged on their sofas, ate their snacks in the common room, knew most of their faces—and, in return, Hufflepuff knew you. Of course, you still had plenty of Gryffindor friends too, which meant that you drifted easily between houses, belonging to both all at once.

That was why things became… interesting when Gryffindor and Hufflepuff sixth- and fifth-years were placed into a joint class.

Two houses. Twice the noise. Absolute chaos.

Professor Slughorn clasped his hands together with a suspiciously cheerful smile.

“You may choose your own partners today,” he announced, before adding, “with two conditions: you must work with someone you have never partnered with before—and your group must include at least one student from the opposite house.”

Uh oh. The two of you were doomed. You always partnered together with Leia—no exceptions.

“We can still make this work,” Leia whispered urgently, already scanning the room. “We just need to find someone you haven’t worked with before… and someone I haven’t…”

You followed her gaze. Most of your usual sixth-year friends—Angelina included—had already paired off. What remained was an unfamiliar group of fifth-year boys clustered together.

Part of you wished that you spent more time getting to know your housemates.

And then—

Tap. Tap.

You turned.

Standing behind you were two identical redheads, matching grins firmly in place. You recognized them to be the Weasley twins. They were Ron’s older brothers and both quidditch players who were a year above you.

And, unfortunately for you, they were completely indistinguishable.

“Hey,” one of them said cheerfully. “D’you want to partner with us?”

“We’d rather not split up,” the other added, nodding in agreement, “but we need someone we’ve never worked with before. And—” he glanced between you and your friend “—someone from Hufflepuff.”

Leia’s eyes lit up. She turned to you with a smile.

“Well, that solves our problem rather nicely,” she said. “Yes—we’d love to.”

You cringed. There was no need for her to sound so eager, but there was no other choice.

And just like that, it happened. You, Leia, and the Weasley twins were partnered together. It had to be a recipe for disaster. Or fun. But honestly, it was probably both.

As the four of you settled at your workbench, you finally asked the question that had been bothering you since they’d appeared.

“So,” you said casually, “which one of you is Fred… and which one is George?”

They exchanged a look. Then their smiles widened.

“I’m Fred,” one said confidently, pointing to himself. “He’s George.”

“No, I’m Fred,” the other corrected instantly. “He’s George.”

You and your friend stared at them for a moment.

“Perfect,” your friend said solemnly. “We’ve met them at a very confused time in their lives.”

You bit back a laugh before adding, “What if your mum forgot which was which one day, and now the names you go by are actually switched?”

The twins paused, looked at each other, then—in perfect unison—shook their heads.

“Never,” they said, brightly.

One of them paused, then grinned. “Although… it’s highly possible.”

You decided it didn’t really matter that you couldn’t tell them apart yet. You had time. What you could already tell was that they were absolutely nothing like Ron.

***

You and your friend whispered quietly to each other as the lesson droned on—until you zoned out for exactly one second too long. Of course, that was when Professor Slughorn decided to call on you.

“Miss [L/N],” he called sharply, “please come up and add the next ingredients to the cauldron.”

You looked up. startled.

“Oh—uh—what?” You panicked, turning to your table for help. “What did he say to add?”

Leia winced. “Sorry! I didn’t hear the last one.”

Seriously?

Before you could scramble your brain, a folded slip of parchment slid across the table toward you.

“Here,” one of the twins whispered. “Take this.”

You glanced down at it. It looked… right enough.

Trusting it (perhaps foolishly), you stood and walked to the front of the classroom, ignoring the scattered cheers from students who clapped simply because someone was being called up.

You selected the bottles listed on the paper and added them carefully to the cauldron.

Nothing happened.

Then—

There was spark, light a fire cracker, followed by a sudden pop.

You stumbled back as luminous blue and violet butterflies burst from the cauldron, swirling through the air in glittering waves. Gasps filled the room.

They were beautiful.

One fluttered close, landing delicately on your finger. You held your breath as the class erupted into cheers—some students assumed it had been intentional. You werent beneath pulling pranks in class.

But this time, it wasn’t you.

“Very interesting, Miss [Y/N],” Professor Slughorn said dryly. “Unfortunately, that is not the desired result. Please return to your seat—and do try to pay attention next time.”

You returned to the bench, brushing past one of the twins and lightly shoving his shoulder.

“Hey!”

“Hey yourself,” you shot back, sitting down. “You gave me the wrong ingredients.”

“Should’ve been paying attention, [Y/N],” one of them replied smugly.

You blinked.

“…You know my name?”

The twins looked at each other—and laughed.

“Of course we do,” one said. “Angelina tells us about you all the time.”

“The honorary Hufflepuff,” the other added.

Oh.

So they knew who you were—while you still couldn’t tell them apart.

‘Maybe I should put more effort into that,’ you thought.

“Honorary Hufflepuff?” Leia grinned. “That nickname is actually adorable.”

The professor cleared his throat loudly. “Table four. I trust there will be no more chatter?”

All four of you straightened instantly.

“Yes, sir.”

As the lesson continued, you had no idea how important this moment truly was.

You had just caught the attention of Fred and George Weasley. And once you entered their hemisphere—their sphere of influence—there was no escaping it.

They’d found their next target.

And they found you very interesting indeed.