Don't let go
The bell over the door chimed as angry footsteps ring out through the shop. George rushes into the backroom with a mischievous smirk, locking it behind him.
“Fred Weasley! Get out here right now!”
Fred frantically pulled on the door leading to his flat above Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, only to find it mysteriously locked.
He whirled around to face the angry witch who had stomped over to him, wand drawn.
What do you think you’re playing at??” Pansy Parkinson seethed at him, her normally choppy black bob, now a bright shade of turquoise. Fred stifled a laugh, so as not to anger her further.
“What are you talking about Pans?” He asked, cocking his head . “What happened to your hair?”
“YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENED! I SAW YOU COME INTO THE PRINT SHOP!”
Pansy grabbed him by the front of his jumper, pressing her wand to his throat. Fred stared at her, utterly dumbstruck at her accusation.
“Pansy, I don’t know what you’re on about,” he said “I’ve been here doing inventory all day. George stepped out earlier–” Fred sighed in exasperation. “George. George was acting suspicious when he came in earlier.”
Pansy rolled her eyes and lowered her wand, dropping her hand from Fred’s clothes.
“Don’t let go,” He said with a quirk of his eyebrows. “I liked it.”