Leave Out All the Rest

October

"All I'm asking for is to get out of the next two days, all right?" said Ron tiredly. "I'll make it up, I swear. I wouldn't ask, only--"

"I know, Weasley," said Auror Geffen, idly tapping his gold-nib quill against his inkpot. "You've been putting in longer hours at the shop while your brother's been... away."

Ron found himself biting his lip not to snap at the man. 'Away'; a polite word for 'locked up on the mental ward'. "Yeah."

"He's out, now, though, I heard," said Geffen.

Heard through the bloody Prophet, and Ron was some day going to torch their offices if there was any way he could make it look like an accident. "Yeah."

"He's been back for two days," said Geffen. "And yet you're still asking for time off? And your partner agrees with the request?"

"It's just while George is getting back on his feet," said Harry. "It's only been two days."

"I understand," said Geffen, leaning back in his chair. "We all understand it's been difficult for you all." Ron pressed his lips together and swore once more that if he ever found out who'd leaked the story to the paper he was going to use all that the Aurors had trained him in to make them pay. "I do understand that you want to be there for him. But--"

"Look, I'm just saying that I need--"

"Look, Weasley, if you don't want this job," said Geffen, "we can certainly get somebody else to fill it."

"You're firing me?!" Ron said, his voice rising in disbelief. Beside him, Harry leaned forward, his hackles immediately rising, and for a brief moment Ron could practically hear him growl in protective anger.

Geffen shook his head, but leaned forward earnestly as well. "That's not what I meant. But we need you here, Ron. We're short-staffed as it is, and if this isn't going to be your top priority then you need to--"

"D'you know what?" Ron stood up, suddenly feeling perfectly calm. "You're right. It's not my top priority." He started to unbutton his Auror robes.

Geffen and Harry gaped at him.

"I beg your pardon?" Geffen finally said.

"It's not my top priority," said Ron, handing over the robe and Trainee badge he'd worked so hard to get. "It's not going to be, not for a long time, possibly not ever. If things aren't working out, I know which commitment I need to drop, and it's bloody well not my brother."

"Ron," Harry began.

"You're short-staffed among the Aurors?" Ron said to Geffen, ignoring Harry. "Well, guess what. We're a little short-staffed among the Weasley siblings; we kind of lost one seventh of our workforce, and it shows. And George is a bit short-staffed too, what with having lost one hundred per cent of his partners at the shop."

"Weasley," Geffen began, putting up a conciliatory hand, "you can't - you know how badly the wizarding world needs people like--"

"NO!" Ron slammed his hand down on Geffen's immaculate desk, suddenly furious, and Geffen and Harry jumped. "Don't you dare try to guilt me into tossing over family for your precious job! My family has given enough already! Go find yourself another poster-boy recruit. I quit."

He turned on his heel and walked out of the Geffen's office, Harry scrambling to get up and follow him.

"Ron, wait!"

"No. I'm done."

"You can't--"

"Yeah, I can."

Harry grabbed his arm, spinning him around. "All right, yeah you can," he said. "And you've got every right to, and you're probably right." Ron's eyebrows went up. "Mate, you know I'm behind you, no matter what you do, yeah?"

Ron let out his breath. "Yeah."

Harry nodded. "Only, let me... let me talk to him for you, all right?" He put up a hand as Ron opened his mouth. "Not so he'll let you stay. I told you, I agree with you. If you really feel you need to quit so you can be there for George, I'm behind you all the way. Only don't burn your bridges."

Ron hesitated.

"You've wanted to be an Auror for a long time, Ron," Harry pointed out. "So what if you can't keep going in this training session? There'll be other sessions."

Ron thought for a moment and then nodded.

Harry gave him a smile. "All right then. I'll go talk to Geffen. I'll see you later?"

Ron nodded, and turned to go.

He had quit, he thought as he made his way out of the almost-deserted Ministry. Up and quit, no longer training, no longer going to see Harry every day, no longer going to study whenever he got a spare moment. No Illegal Potions exam to study for tomorrow. No Disguises class, no Restraining charms to recite in the loo and in the shower, no Non-Magical Combat to train for.

He checked his watch. Almost ten. George would be closing up soon. He went through the Floo and into Diagon Alley, slowing as his steps brought him closer to Wheezes, realizing he was none too sure how he was going to explain his presence here. Bracing himself, he stepped in, the noise and laughter of Wheezes warming him, and glanced around for George or Naomi.

"Mr. Weasley!" Naomi called out to him, and he turned to see her charming away a pair of donkey ears from a giggling child, to his mother's evident relief, and handing the mother a bag full of Ear-Ring Surprises. "I thought you were observing the night shift this week?"

"I was. How was business?"

"Busy. Got a group of tourists from Spain; apparently Wheezes are becoming famous in Madrid. They wanted to see our Paella Portkeys."

"Where's George?"

Naomi's smile faltered slightly. "He's... in the lab."

Ron frowned. "Is he all right?"

Naomi looked away. "It wasn't a bad day, mostly," she said quietly. "Only about an hour ago three kids came in and started using the Decoy Detonators, playing War. Re-enacting the Battle at Hogwarts."

Ron winced.

"They're kids, you know. Kids play war games. Mr. Weasley didn't get angry at them or anything, just told them they'd have to pay for any merchandise they used. And then two of them were pretending to be Death Eaters and 'killed' the one playing Auror, and..." she shook her head.

"What happened?"

"It was their mum," said Naomi. "Stepped in and told them off, asked how could they make a game of it, how would they feel if they'd lost one of them for real. And how could they play that here, of all places, where poor Mr. Weasley had lost his brother. Said it was an insult to both twins - and to all of you, and your parents - and Mr. Weasley tried to get her to stop, but she was relentless. Made them apologize to him. Even made the littlest one cry."

Ron groaned, picturing George's face at that.

"Mr. Weasley was all right; seemed to be, anyway. Stayed for an hour or so. Finally went into the lab a few minutes ago, but he wasn't looking so good."

Ron nodded worriedly, and headed towards the lab. He paused before the door, noting a distinct lack of explosions from the other side of it. He tapped on the door, and eased it open slowly.

"George?" Ron's eyes adjusted to the gloom and he sighed as he spotted George, at the work table, head buried in his arms, shoulders shaking.

"George." Ron sank down and put an arm around him, and rested his chin on George's shoulder. "No, come on, just let it out," he said quietly, as George tried to suppress his tears.

George made a noise in his throat and shook with sobs again. Ron held him, letting him cry until he couldn't any more, until all that were left were soft shuddering breaths, the calm after the storm.

This was bollocks, thought Ron, his own throat aching. George had been in the bloody hospital for weeks, and was still beyond miserable. Why couldn't they do something for him? Make this better, somehow? Sometimes it seemed like all the hospital had done was make him more fragile. The brother Ron had known never would've burst into tears over a stupid customer in the shop. Never would've let Ron see him cry.

The brother he'd known wasn't ever going to come back, Ron was starting to realize. He'd begun to suspect it not long after the Battle, but it was finally beginning to sink in. He wiped his own eyes, and sent his mind in another direction.

"You all right?" he said once George had been quiet for a while.

George shook his head. "Bad day," he said, his voice still muffled by his arms.

"Naomi told me about the kids playing Battle of Hogwarts."

George shook his head again. "Wasn't just them. Just a bad day in general."

"You're taking your Cheering Potions?"

George nodded, sitting up and wiping at his eyes, his chest still shuddering a bit. "They don't seem to do much good."

"You know they said at the hospital, it'll take time."

"Sod the bloody hospital," George muttered. "Useless tits."

Ron gave him a sympathetic clap on the back and then stood up. "Come on. It's almost closing, Naomi can handle the place. I'll make us some soup or something and get you to bed."

"No, I'm all right, only--"

"Shut it. You're not all right, neither am I, and I don't feel like arguing with you while you do your macho 'I can take care of myself' rubbish. I'm going to put you to bed and then I'm going to finish up the trollbogey potions, we're going to run out otherwise."

"That'll take hours."

"Let me worry about that, all right?"

"Hang on, aren't you supposed to be on night shift at the Ministry?"

"Will you bloody well shut up," Ron said irritably. "And let me do my fucking job. Eat the soup I make, go to bed, and let me not worry about you for one bloody night. Oh bugger, I'm turning into Mum, this is depressing."

George chuckled, standing up. "You have a hero thing, do you?"

"I've been hanging around with Harry too long, mate. It's catching. You'd better watch yourself or you'll find yourself doing it too."

"Don't think so," said George glumly. "Can't even save myself."

Ron nodded wearily, and headed up the stairs.

"Ron." George opened the door to the flat. "Look, all right, I'll go to bed, but you need to get some sleep too. You can't go into class tomorrow, feeling like shit run over by a troll, and get all confused about which parchments to fill in for faulty-cauldron-sellers--"

Ron pushed past him and into the flat. "Look, I told you--"

"And if you get hurt in Non-Magical Combat because you were working here and not getting enough rest, Mum'll kill me."

Ron finally stopped and turned around, annoyed. "All right, yeah, about that. I sort of... quit the Aurors today."

George blinked. "What?"

Ron shrugged. "Wasn't working out. They only wanted me as a poster boy anyway. Present a good face to the public, show things are getting done."

"You quit? Seriously?"

Ron went to the pantry, looking for soup ingredients. "It was getting on my nerves."

George followed him slowly. "What happened?"

Ron cleared his throat. "Geffen told me I had to get my priorities straight. So I did."

George gaped at him. "Working here? Instead of being an Auror? Why?"

Ron set his jaw. "Look, you're welcome to toss me out whenever you don't need me any more, I'll find another job. But right now, you need me."

"I can get somebody else to--"

"To help you stock, yeah. And follow directions and maybe help with the customers. You need more help than that, George."

George looked away.

"Even if everything was working just fine with you, you'd need somebody else here. Fred didn't just follow directions and he didn't just chat up the customers. He invented and he helped troubleshoot and he kept the books and did advertising and put in insanely long hours. I can't do most of what he did, but I can at least try to help. You need me, George."

George sighed.

"What?" said Ron.

"Why do you care?" George said softly. "You've got your own life to lead, you've got Hermione and Harry missing you, your Auror Training's suffered--"

Ron was suddenly right pissed. "Why the hell do you think I'm here, then? He was my brother too, you know!"

George's eyebrows went up. "I never said he wasn't."

"He didn't just fight for an end to Voldemort. He wanted a world where people could laugh. He died for this--" Ron swept his arm in a wide arc, taking in the shop. "We have to live for it. I can't bring him back, but I'll be damned if I stand by and watch what he built fall apart because you can't do the work of two people. I know I'm not him. But I'm doing this for him." He paused. "Besides, he'd never forgive me - or any of us - if anything happened to you."

*****

"Where do we start?" asked George, as the Gryffindor common room erupted into a buzz of fear and speculation.

"Start what?" asked Percy, still staring at the Gryffindor common room's door, where McGonagall had just stepped out.

"Looking for Ginny," said Fred.

"What?!" said Percy, turning to the twins. "Are you mad?"

"She's been taken by some bloody monster, Percy!" said Fred. "She's our responsibility; we have to try to find her!"

"McGonagall told us to stay here," said Percy firmly, his pale face flushing.

"To hell with that," said George.

"I'll go get the map," said Fred.

"What map? Where are you going?" Percy said, stepping in front of them as they headed for the boys' dorm rooms. The common room grew quieter as the other students started to notice their conflict.

"To our room," Fred said, pushing him away. Percy stepped in front of them again.

"You are not going anywhere," he said. "We were told to stay in our Houses."

"Ron and Harry must know something, yeah?" said Fred to George, ignoring Percy. "That's why they disappeared."

"Yes, Ron and Harry disappeared," said Percy. "And that's also why there's a teacher outside our tower, guarding us, and teachers looking for them too. Taking valuable resources away from the search for Ginny. You cannot compound their error."

"Percy, drop the Prefect crap, and grow some balls!" said Fred. "She's your sister too! How can you stand there and--"

"I can stand here because I was told to!" Percy shot back. "Going off half-cocked and making more trouble is not bravery. It's foolishness." He paused. "Besides, we don't know that Harry and Ron went to look for her."

"What else would they be doing?"

Percy glared at them. "You think it's a joke, don't you? That Harry may be the Heir of Slytherin? What if he is? What if he's got both Ginny and Ron?"

George and Fred gaped at him, speechless for a moment.

"Are you serious?" Fred finally asked.

"He can talk to snakes. His behaviour has been very suspicious."

"Harry is not the enemy, you pompous prick!" said Fred furiously.

"Shut your gob!" added George.

"Sit down!" Percy said loudly, grabbing George's shoulder and pushing him towards the common room couches, and now the entire Gryffindor common room was frozen, watching the three of them.

"We're supposed to be Gryffindors!" Fred shouted. "When there's something like this going on, we're supposed to go to battle, not sit safe and wait for other people to save us!"

"It's not a question of courage! It's a question of not making things worse, the way Ron and Harry may have done!"

"They're helping!"

"Because of them, there is a teacher who can't be out looking for Ginny, but has to stay here instead and guard us in case any of us get the brilliant idea to follow them. Guard you, I should say, because they know that I know better!"

"You'd just let our sister get killed because you're a Prefect--"

"SHUT UP!!" shouted Percy. "I want to go look for her, do you think I don't? She's my sister too! And I'm a Prefect, I'm sure if I asked, they'd let me! But instead, I have to sit and babysit the two of you--"

"We don't need your fucking babysitting," said George. "And you bloody well can't make us--"

"You are going to stay here if I have to put you in a body bind," said Percy.

"Oh yeah?" sneered Fred, and moved to take his wand out, but before he could even complete the move Percy made a quick movement and then there they were, both of them rooted to the spot, their hands bound behind them, their wands in Percy's hand.

"PERCY! You fucking weasel, let us out!" yelled Fred, struggling.

"NEWT-level Defence Against the Dark Arts," said Percy grimly, then performed a few more passes and put the twins behind a shield. He turned to the Quidditch team, Oliver and Katie and Angelina and Alicia all standing together and glaring at him. "And don't think for a moment I won't put a bind on the rest of you, too, if you make any move towards them!"

"Some day we won't be kids," said Fred angrily. "And nobody will be able to tell us to just sit still and wait. Some day, we'll be able to fight. Like Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon."

"Uncle Fabian and Uncle Gideon died, you idiot!" said Percy.

"I'd rather do what's right and die young than die an old man who never did a bloody thing because he didn't have the guts!"

"What is it Dad says?" said George. "A coward dies a thousand deaths. The brave man only dies once."

"Quoting Dad's Muggle authors, George," said Percy, his lip curled into a sneer. "Good for you. Did Shakespeare say anything about an idiot who dies for nothing?"

November

Luna was out of the hospital. She'd managed to get to Hogwarts in September, so George hadn't seen her while he was in, but then she'd received one scary Owl from her dad and gone back in about a week after George had left. She looked much better this time, though. She was planning on going back to school in January. Looking forward to it, even.

A half-dozen top Death Eaters were being tried for their crimes; the Malfoys were apparently all going to spend the rest of their days rotting in Azkaban; Teddy Lupin was crawling everywhere, much to Andromeda's delight, and Andromeda herself had been seen smiling and in the company of Kingsley Shacklebolt a few times. Hermione and Ron were in love, Harry and Ginny likewise, Percy had a new girlfriend, Angelina and Lee were not dating each other - though they were apparently not altogether single either, and George didn't care to figure out what that meant - Mum and Dad were doing all right, and the shop was booming. Bill and Fleur were making noises about starting a family, to Mum's eternal dewy-eyed joy.

All of which should've been great. Should've made George happy for his family and friends. None of it did.

Everybody else's happiness, cheering potions, all of the "positive self-talk" that he'd been taught in the hospital, and living in a bloody joke shop, just weren't enough.

"You don't look better at all," said Luna one day, and George blinked at her in astonishment. The protuberant eyes were fixing him in an unsettling gaze.

"I'm sleeping better," he said. "Gained back about half a stone. What's not better about that?"

"Your magic is still malfunctioning."

George shrugged. "That's life. You can't have everything."

Luna shook her head. "You're trying to put up a brave front because you don't want to worry your family. They'll worry about you a lot more if you don't really get better."

George blew out his breath. "Why don't we change the subject?"

Luna nodded. "All right. Are you up to doing a bit of investigating for me? Hermione said you're very good at it."

George chuckled. Funny how Luna could throw him off-balance, in a rather nice way. "She said that?"

"Yes, she said you're a voracious reader. I wonder how it is that Hermione can use words like that and not look silly."

George sniggered. "What do you need investigated?"

"I'm trying to put together a new edition of the paper. We've been off for a while now, and I thought we might want to get started again by investigating the existence of a supposedly mythical creature. But I want to do something new."

"Such as?"

"Daddy wants us to prove the existence of a creature nobody believes in."

George nodded, yeah, right, par for the course for Xenophilius.

"I've picked the Oily Ooliphaunt, but I want us to prove its non-existence."

George's eyebrows went up.

"We've never done that before. I've been talking to our regular contributors, but none of them have agreed to help us. Daddy feels it's because we were both in the hospital. Do you notice people treating you any differently?"

George blinked a few times, knocked off-balance as usual by Luna's forthrightness. He thought of Mum's worried smiles, of Verity and Naomi falling over themselves to make things easier for him at work. Of the witch that very morning who had smiled far too brightly at him after he finished explaining Eau de Poop Cologne, and said, "Thank you, Mr. Weasley. That was a good explanation." She had nudged her husband. "It's a very clever product, isn't it?"

Her husband had nodded earnestly. "You've got a fine shop here, Mr. Weasley," he'd said.

"Just a tad, yeah," said George.

"I don't notice any at all. I wonder if that's because they all thought I was mad as a hatter all along?"

George hid a smile. "Hard to say."

"In any case, it'll involve researching when and where the Ooliphaunt was first mentioned in the literature, and then trying to see whether it could be based on a distorted view of a real creature. It wouldn't require tramping about foreign lands. It would require tramping through a lot of libraries."

"I can do that," said George. No call for magic, no other people around, other than possibly Hermione, at Hogwarts. Although Hermione had nothing to do with him wanting to do this. The books were the attraction. Books, peace, and solitude. Nobody looking at him like he was about to shatter, nobody being overly gentle, overly soothing, overly cheerful.

"Do you have time?"

"Time enough."

"Are you actually working again? The Prophet said you might be barred from working again. But I didn't take that at face value, not coming from an unreliable source like that."

There was something mildly amusing about a girl with a string of Butterbeer corks around her neck and leeks hanging from her ears impugning the reliability of The Prophet. "Erm, no."

"Were you trying to kill yourself? With your own products?"

"No, not really," he said. "Just wasn't concerned enough with safety."

"And are you, now?"

George shrugged. "We've got wards in the testing room, to contact St. Mungo's if we're testing and something goes wrong."

"How do they work?"

"If we're testing on ourselves, we have to say the all-clear charm within two minutes or St. Mungo's gets dinged. If we're testing something not meant for humans - say, a charm that makes furniture invisible so people can trip on it - they ding after fifteen minutes with no counter-charm."

"Does it work?"

"Yeah, though I've dinged St. Mungo's twice without meaning to. Forgot to say the countercharm and got a lapful of angry Emergency Mediwizard for my trouble."

"I wish my mum had had that; it might have saved her life. I wasn't able to." Luna brushed past him and placed her books on the table. "I'm so glad you agreed to help. I brought the books I've found so far with me, in case you did. Shall we begin?"

George nodded at her, bemused, and had the oddest urge to tuck her long hair behind her leek earrings. He smiled at her instead, picked up a book, and started to read.

*****

"Isn't it a bit cold for going barefoot?" said Fred one day in the Great Hall.

"What?" said George.

"Loony Lovegood," Fred said, nodding towards her. "She's not wearing shoes. Hasn't worn them for the last three days. Before that she was wearing bedroom slippers."

"Maybe she thinks they're full of Nargles," said George.

Fred shook his head, chewing on his lip as he gazed at Luna, who was waving her wand and gazing dreamily at the bubbles floating from its tip as her house mates gobbled down their dinners. "I think somebody took them."

"Several somebodies, actually," said Ginny, her lip curling in disgust.

"Why?"

"Because they can. Because she's Loony Lovegood and always good for a laugh."

"So they steal her shoes?" George said. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Not just her shoes. Her books, her hair ribbons, whatever." Ginny gave him a half-grin. "You're a funny pair to disapprove. Didn't you steal Mathison's robes?"

"Did not. They were still on him."

"They were invisible to everyone but him. You sent him to class in his underwear, without him even realizing why everyone was laughing at him."

"Mathison's a colossal prat, and on the Inquisitorial Squad to boot," said Fred. "Loony's just... Loony."

"What does she do about it when it happens?" asked George.

"Nothing. She says she doesn't mind," said Ginny. "And nobody helps her. The other Ravenclaws see her as an embarrassment."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Even Harry's precious little Cho laughed at her behind her back when we weren't at DA meetings."

Fred and George exchanged a look. 'Harry's precious little Cho' wasn't Harry's any more, if she ever had been - which seemed unlikely, considering the fact that dear Harry seemed about as clueless about women as Ron. In any case, the two weren't speaking. And they certainly weren't close enough to put that little sneer into Ginny's voice, considering the fact that she was dating somebody else.

"And what about your precious Michael Corner?" asked Fred. "He's a Ravenclaw; does he join in the fun?"

"He's not my 'precious' anything," said Ginny, rolling her eyes. "And he's not a bad bloke. No, he doesn't make fun of her, but he doesn't want to be targeted for defending her, either."

"Heart of a lion," said Fred.

"What takes more courage: defending a girl who doesn't seem to mind what's happening with her things, or joining the DA?" asked Ginny.

George nodded. "She does have a point, you know."

"Still. I don't like it," said Fred. "Somebody should do something about it." He chewed on his lip and thought for a moment. "In fact, I think somebody will."

George grinned. "Oh yeah? What will they do?"

"They will invent a hex that will give enormous boils to anyone who's holding on to Loony Lovegood's property without her permission."

"Ooh, nice," said George. "When are we going to do it, though? We're a little swamped right now."

Fred sniggered; 'swamped' was rather apt.

"We'll have to do it before we..."

Fred nodded. "Yeah, obviously."

"So when will we have time?"

"No harm postponing it another week, if we can work on Loony's hex at the same time," said Fred.

George nodded.

"All right, here's the plan: if we can manage to get the frogs croaking instead of farting by the weekend, the next thing we'll do will be Luna's hex."

Luna. Not Loony. George smiled at Fred, and nodded.

Ginny glanced between them and rolled her eyes. "I probably don't want to know what on earth you're planning, do I?"

Fred laughed. "Probably not."

"It'll be brilliant, though," said George. "We can tell you that much."

"I've no doubt. Well, I don't know if this is going to interfere with your plans, but I didn't come sit with you just to socialize. I have a request."

"What is it?"

"Harry needs to use the Floo."

George and Fred frowned. "Why doesn't he, then?"

"He wants to use one that won't be watched," said Ginny. "The only one like that is in Umbridge's office."

George and Fred gaped at her. "He wants to get in there?"

"Yeah. Are you game?"

"Getting him into Inquisitor Headquarters. You're serious."

"I told him you could help."

Fred and George looked at each other and then both broke into wide grins. "You know, as it happens, we probably can," said Fred.

"It would have to be soon," said Ginny.

"Well, we were working on a tight schedule anyway," said Fred. "We can be ready by...next weekend."

George shook his head. "Not sure we can do that. Not and manage Loony's hex at the same time."

"I think it has to be soon, for Harry," said Ginny.

The twins glanced at each other and then at Loony, who was sitting and staring at her empty plate in rapt contentment. Then at Harry, who was sitting with Ron and Hermione and looking broodier than usual, even for him.

They both nodded, coming to a decision. "We'll be ready next weekend. Tell him all he has to do is wait for our diversion."

Ginny grinned. "All right, I'll let him know." She stood up and practically skipped back to Harry.

George nudged Fred. "You all right with not helping Loony?"

"She doesn't look like she needs anybody's help," Fred pointed out.

"You want to, though."

"Yeah, I do."

George suddenly grinned. "Got a thing for her?"

"What?"

"Bit of a change from Angelina, yeah? Besides being the same age as our kid sister."

"I don't have a thing for - all right, maybe I do," said Fred. "Not that I'd do anything about it."

"Angelina would have your balls. Though bloody hell she's fickle about whether she wants them for herself or not."

Fred chuckled. His and Angelina's off-and-on (mostly off) got old sometimes, but Fred took it in stride. "Oi, I can admire from afar, can't I? It's not often you see complete lunacy in a relatively attractive package; people that barmy tend to look like Arabella Figg. Or Xenophilius."

"She'd probably drive even you mad, if you went for her."

"That's why it would be from afar, George. Can you imagine Loony Lovegood during sex? 'Don't use that lube; the Ministry's Magical Health Department makes it out of ground-up gnomes.'"

George laughed. "'What's that chirping sound you're making, Luna?' 'Oh, that's the mating call of the Hurdygrumble. Brings good luck during shagging.'"

Fred snorted. "And don't forget, 'Ooh, I'm so glad you're uncircumcised, just like a Muggle. They don't share our silly worries about Peenpoppies crawling in under their foreskins. It's too bad we do; Peenpoppies can create powerful Sex Magic.' "

*****

Teddy was busily toddling about, babbling a mile a minute, and Andromeda looked happy. Ted and Remus and Tonks weren't yet dead a year, and she was moving on.

"Such a big boy, aren't you?" Andromeda cooed to Teddy, who took two steps towards her and fell on his bum. He grinned up at her, squealing, and struggled to get back up. "Are you your Gran's big boy?"

George smiled as Teddy rushed headlong into Andromeda's arms. It was wonderful to see her finally getting out of the depression that she'd seemed to be in for so long. She laughed, a happy, carefree sound, and George couldn't believe the difference in her. She was finally, finally starting to live again. And it was probably due to Teddy, who seemed to live on the verge of laughter, despite the many mishaps that reminded George forcibly of Tonks.

Hope he didn't inherit her clumsiness, thought George, but couldn't bring himself to say.

"I certainly hope he didn't inherit Dora's clumsiness," said Andromeda, startling George. "Though I remember Ted thinking it was a blessing we weren't a Muggle family, when she was small. Said we would've had a time if we couldn't cast Reparo spells every other minute."

George smiled, and looked at Ted and Tonks waving from the mantelpiece. Tonks looked to be around twelve or so, still round-faced and boyish-looking. Behind them was another picture of her as a gap-toothed child. And another, this one of her and Remus, gazing at each other as a man in black read from a book behind them. Andromeda and Ted, standing behind Tonks, didn't look entirely pleased, but there could be no mistaking the love in their eyes as they gazed at their daughter's glowing face.

Ted and Remus and Tonks would've wanted Andromeda to move on, and find joy in her life again. The fact that she seemed able to do so was astonishing to George.

"Oh, George, I wanted to show you something," said Andromeda, standing up with Teddy in her arms. "Look what the Owl brought in yesterday!" She picked up a large envelope from the coffee table. "Remus' family finally contacted me. I think it was just to shut me up. They're not exactly welcoming; apparently the only member of the family who wasn't a complete idiot over the whole werewolf business was his mother." Her lips pressed together briefly. "His father felt guilty, and the rest were afraid. And unfortunately, his mother died when Remus was in his early twenties, so I had nobody who cared to help me raise Teddy here. Or even to help me teach him about who his father was." Andromeda rested her cheek against Teddy's blue curls briefly, and he squealed with delight again. "As though Teddy had any choice in having been born to a werewolf. Well, their loss."

"Yeah, I suppose so," said George.

"I'm glad to be able to count on the Order members, who knew Remus as an adult. But I had nothing to tell Teddy about him as a child. I've got pictures and letters and clothing and toys that belonged to Dora, and I've a full lifetime of memories of my husband, but nothing from Remus except a few books and your family's recollections. And Harry had a few pictures of him that he inherited from his parents. But then I got this!"

She tilted the envelope and a small bound book came out. "Can you believe it? It's all of Remus' childhood! His aunt said something lovely like, I was about to dump this, we've no earthly use for it, but maybe you can have it and see whether you want to show them to Remus' child. She signed it 'Cordially, Mary.'" Andromeda shook her head. "Charming woman."

George flipped through the photo album. There he was, Remus Lupin, age one, dirty faced and reaching for the camera. Age two, blond hair, cowlick, laughing eyes, riding a child's broomstick, with a slightly older child chasing him. Age four, at what looked like a birthday party. The hair a bit darker. Several photographs of him around age six or so, playing at a beach and in a forest, a stick in his hand and his mouth open as he waved the stick around, no doubt pretending it was a wand. Age eight, and all of a sudden the pictures showed a thinner, paler little boy, with shadows under his eyes, occasional scars on his face or arms. Standing apart in all group photographs, only his mother ever touching him in any of the pictures.

George's throat closed tight as he flipped through the fading photographs. This wasn't right. Remus Lupin had suffered so much, endured so much - the death of his friends, a lifetime of persecution, poverty, rejection, war - and now all that was left of him were a few faded photographs and the stories of people who had only vaguely known him. And a son who would never really know his father.

It wasn't fair. He was glad Andromeda seemed to think this album enough, but it wasn't. Not by a long shot. Fred had died at twenty, and left behind so much more than this.

*****

"I'm telling you, whichever Auror was covering the sixth floor corridor was asleep at his post," said Fred, handing Remus a Butterbeer and giving the map on the table a vague wave with his own bottle. "We got in with no problem at all."

"He hexed you as you were leaving," Remus pointed out, uncorking his bottle and neatly tossing the cork into the rubbish bin on the far side of the twin's kitchen. George raised an eyebrow, impressed at his accuracy.

"We recovered quickly enough," said Fred. "The point is, we got in."

"You know," Remus said, sitting back, "we really would've appreciated you doing this with permission."

"What would be the point of that?" asked George. "Point is, you need someone else on that floor. One Auror can't guard it alone."

"They're being spread rather thin, you know."

"An Order member could do it," said Fred.

"We're spread thin too," said Remus wryly, taking a swig from his bottle.

"We'd do it."

Remus sighed and wiped his mouth. "I'm well aware that you want into the Order, boys. We all are. But your parents have been rather adamant about keeping you out."

"Bill and Charlie are in."

"Bill and Charlie are not barely eighteen," said Remus.

"Bill and Charlie also didn't spend a year being told that even though they were of age, they couldn't join because they were still in school," Fred retorted.

"We're out of school, now," said George.

Remus laughed. "That's not exactly a point in your favour. Did you ever think that NEWTs might be useful for more than just Ministry jobs?"

"If you're going to tell us that NEWTs are a prerequisite for Order membership, you'll have to figure out some way of explaining Mundungus Fletcher, Professor," scoffed Fred. "Not to mention Mrs. Figg."

Remus shook his head. "It's not so much the fact that you left school, but how you left it. It was brilliant and it was daring, but the Order is not a lark and it is not a joke."

"We know that," said Fred. "We want in anyway."

Remus sighed again. "What is it with you youngsters being so eager to throw yourselves into harm's way?"

"You tell us," Fred shot back. "You were our age once."

"About a million years ago. Let's get back to your little escapade. Where were the other weak spots you found?"

"We're going to try again at the next meeting, you know," said Fred. "Mum's going to argue against us, again. You could help us."

"I can't, boys, you know that," said Remus. "Your mother has been very kind to me, and she has been worried sick about all of you. What kind of friend would I be if I put two more of her kids into the line of fire? Ron is friends with Harry, and Ginny was part of the DA, and Bill and Charlie have been working dangerous jobs ever since they left school; you two are the only ones she's not worried about." There was a small pause, silently filled by Percy's name. "Now. Back to Hogwarts security?"

The twins looked at each other. All right, drop the topic for now. "This part of the wall was weakened a while ago," said George, pointing. "See where that Rune for 'nothing' is? It's five floors up, but you could fly into it, if you knew where it was."

"You need to make it broom-proof."

"That's hideously difficult," said Remus.

"Not with our ShooBroom Security charms. Sold at cost to the Ministry, free of charge to the Order."

"You can't bribe your way in, you know," said Remus, amused.

Fred smirked. "We can try."

"This next part of the castle isn't too bad," said George, "but it still leaves the entry next to the blushing bowtruckle open."

"The what?" said Remus, giving him a sharp look.

"There's a secret entry into the school. Behind a portrait of a bowtruckle."

"How do you know about that? It's not on this map. Or any other map we use."

George and Fred exchanged a glance. It was on the Marauders' Map. The map Harry had never told the Order about, as far as they knew. "It was on a map we saw a long time ago," said Fred.

Remus peered at them, then his eyes widened. "You gave it to him!!"

"What?"

"The Marauders' Map! You gave it to Harry, didn't you?"

Fred and George gaped at him.

"How the hell did you get it?!" asked Remus.

"How the hell did you know about it?!" asked Fred.

There was a silence of mutual mistrust. George and Fred broke first. "We nicked it from Filch's office," said Fred. "How did you know about it?"

"What was it doing there?"

"Confiscated. How did you know about it?"

"When did you take it from Filch?"

Fred and George crossed their arms. "How did you know about it?" George repeated.

"I confiscated it from Harry."

They stared in dismay. "You're joking! When? Why?"

"Why?" Remus said, affronted. "We thought Sirius was out there, looking for him - we didn't know he'd never turned to Voldemort! When did you give it to Harry?"

"Probably just before you took it from him," said Fred. "Bugger-all, rotten luck for Harry."

"You gave it to him that year?" Remus said, aghast.

Fred and George nodded. "He couldn't go to Hogsmeade, because of his stupid relatives--"

"Of course he couldn't! We were trying to keep him safe!"

"Keep him miserable, you mean!"

"Everybody else was out at Hogsmeade, having fun."

Remus shook his head and ran a hand through his hair in dismay. "Are you two deranged? That was incredibly irresponsible! How could you--"

"Oi, mate, hang on," Fred interrupted Remus. "How did Harry get it back?"

Remus stopped, suddenly looking sheepish.

Fred grinned. "Come on. He has it, we know he does. He used it to see when it was all right for the DA to meet last year."

Remus' eyes darted between the twins. "Erm."

George grinned. "Come on, Professor."

Remus let out his breath. "I gave it back to him. At the end of the year." Fred guffawed. "I knew he was in no danger from Sirius."

"He was still a student," said George. "You knew he was going to use it to get up to no good."

"I wasn't his professor any more," said Remus ruefully. "I'd quit already."

"So you didn't have any qualms about helping him to break the rules, now that you were no longer staff? And you're going on about us not being responsible?"

Remus' mouth opened and then closed again.

"How did you know how it worked, anyway? He didn't use it in front of you, did he?"

Remus hesitated.

"Come on," said Fred.

Remus sat back, regarding them seriously for a long moment. He cleared his throat. "I, erm, helped make it."

"What?!" Fred and George said in unison. They gaped at him.

"Moony!" said Fred, giving his forehead a slap. "You're Moony!"

Remus smiled. "The same."

"Blimey," said George.

"That's... good God. You were one of the Marauders. That's mind-blowing, it is."

"Padfoot," said George. "That would've been... that was Sirius, wasn't it?"

Remus nodded. "The same."

"Merlin."

"Who were Prongs and Wormtail, then?" asked Fred.

"You're clever boys; work it out."

"Would've been yours and Sirius' friends. James Potter, Prongs?" said George. Remus nodded.

"And Peter Pettigrew was Wormtail," they said, in identical revolted tones.

"Blimey," said Fred. "We gave it to Harry, and we didn't even know it was his by right."

"It was unbelievably irresponsible of you to give it to him that year, you know. Sirius was looking for him. You were giving him a way to get out of the one safe place he had."

Fred and George sniggered. "Look who's giving us lessons in responsibility," said Fred.

"How did Filch end up with it?" said George.

"I don't know," said Remus. "When we left school we left it to Margaret Ainsley."

"Never heard of her."

"Girl Sirius fancied. She planned to leave it to her little brother, she said."

"Well it was in a file that said confiscated from Elspeth Orleans," said Fred.

Remus frowned. "That sounds familiar. I think..." he pondered the question. "I think the Ainsleys had cousins named Orleans." He shook his head. "This is another reason you shouldn't be in the Order. That kind of irresponsible--"

"We were, what, fifteen when we gave it to Harry?"

"Are you saying you've matured since then?"

The twins had to shake their heads.

"Our dad nearly died in the last year," said Fred. "Our little brother's got scars down his arms from some weird brain thing at the Ministry, and our little sister was hurt, too. I don't know if we're any more responsible, but we do know what we're up against."

"Are you going to speak against us, over this?" asked George.

Remus gazed at them for a long moment. "It would be a little hypocritical of me, wouldn't it?" He hesitated for a long, long moment. "Actually. I think I'll speak for you. We could use you both."

George barely suppressed a cheer.

"It's not all fun and games, you know," said Remus. "You understand that, don't you?"

"Yeah. We understand."

"You understand that some day, you might have to make a choice like your mother had to do when your dad was hurt? To put a mission ahead of the safety of someone you love?"

"Yeah."

"You understand, you may lose people you love?" said Remus. George was suddenly struck by something. Remus' best friends, James and Sirius and Peter, had all died or been lost to him when he was barely older than him and Fred. What a bloody heartbreak, to lose your best friends so young.

"Yeah. We understand."

"Then I'll speak for you. You may still not be allowed in, but it won't be because of me."

*****

"How are you, George?" asked Angelina. "It's so nice to see you back."

"Fine," said George.

"I wanted to see you, when you were in the hospital," she said, and George barely stopped a visible shudder. Because damn, that would have been hellish, him sitting there among Gilderoy Lockhart's fans and Neville Longbottom's parents, with Angelina. Angelina, who had played with him and Fred when they were unbeatable Beaters, seeing him in that pathetic place, doped up on various potions. Lee had been passable. Ron, bearable. Angelina? Not a chance.

"Thanks," he said. "I'm feeling better now."

"How's your magic? Still having trouble?"

"Yeah, sometimes," he said, turning away. "It's not a problem for a lot of our products, though it is a bit of a pain still needing Verity or Naomi to test everything I make."

It struck him, once again, that he and Fred had never needed help from anybody. They'd been the ones other people went to for help.

"You can't do any of it? What about your musical products? Those aren't very magic-intensive, are they?"

"Need two working ears to work with those." He paused. "Bit ironic, isn't it, that the blokes who invented Extendable Ears wound up with only the one usable ear between them?"

Angelina's look of hurt passed so quickly, he barely saw it. There was an awkward pause.

"You look like you're doing well," she said.

"Thanks." He paused. "How are you?"

"Oh, all right. It's been... an interesting few months."

There was another uncomfortable pause.

"D'you still miss him?" he said, and promptly wanted to kick himself at Angelina's startled expression.

"Miss him? Miss Fred?"

"Yeah."

She frowned at George. "Of course I do."

"All right, sorry. I didn't know."

Angelina took a deep breath. "I know I only went out with him for a few months. I thought about him for ages, though, before that." She gave a small laugh. "And I thought about him for ages afterwards."

"You didn't seem to. You broke up with him pretty fast, after we left school."

"He'd ditched me. You'd both ditched your friends."

"We didn't mean to," said George.

"I may not have been in love with him, but I thought of the two of you as close friends. It didn't feel wonderful to know that you two didn't share the sentiment."

"We did," said George.

"It wasn't the same. The two of you were your own world. The rest of us were distant seconds. I couldn't live like that."

George didn't know what to say.

Angelina looked down. "I miss him," she said softly. "I miss, most of all, what could have happened, if I hadn't been angry at him for that. If I'd... maybe I would've found that he didn't think of me as second best. Or maybe that he did. Or maybe... I don't know." She wiped away a tear.

George put a hand on her shoulder, heartily sorry he'd broached the subject, especially as tactlessly as he had. Although he had to admit, it was good to be the one comforting someone else for a change.

She stepped into his arms, and laid her head on his shoulder. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "You don't need this. Especially so soon after leaving the hospital."

"I don't mind," he said. He gave her a small smile. "To be honest, one of the hardest things about having gone to the hospital is how careful people are around me. Like they don't want to say the wrong thing, and send me right back."

Angelina nodded. "I can understand that." She looked like she was about to say something, then bit her lip.

George chuckled. "Like that. What were you going to say before you thought better of it?"

"It's nothing, it's stupid."

George blew out his breath. "Yeah. No doubt. Never mind, then."

"What?"

"Keep second-guessing yourself and eventually you'll get to where you think if you say 'Nice day, isn't it?' I'll collapse because Fred liked nice days too." He started to step away from her. "Spare me, please."

"All right, fine," said Angelina. "It's... being with you, it's confusing. In a way it feels almost as though Fred's not really gone, because you're still here. And I don't know how to say that in a way that won't make it sound like you're only a substitute for Fred. I don't mean it that way."

George's eyebrows went up.

"Oh Merlin that was a stupid thing to say, sorry," Angelina started to draw back, and George tightened his grip.

"No, don't. Thanks, actually." He took a deep breath. "I don't mind."

"I do wish I'd gone to see you. At the hospital, I mean."

George shuddered. "I don't. It wasn't bad in there, but I was out of it and it's all just a blur. And probably part of why you can talk to me is you didn't see me there."

Angelina tilted her head to the side. "Wouldn't have changed how I see you," she said, and put her arms around him again. "You're still as handsome as ever."

He breathed in the scent of her hair, relaxing in her presence, and rubbed her back lightly.

"Mm, that feels nice," said Angelina, and closed her eyes.

This was something he'd missed, so much. Touching other people, having them relax with him, not having them treat him like an invalid. He rubbed Angelina's shoulder.

"That does feel nice."

He chuckled. "Ooh, tell me more."

Angelina laughed, and sighed. "It's been a lonely few months. It seems like everyone's so serious. You can keep doing that - you've got wonderful hands."

George nodded. "Not just everyone. The whole world is dead serious, everywhere. Bloody depressing." He smiled. "So, tell me some more about how good my hands feel."

Angelina laughed and then pulled away slightly. And suddenly the atmosphere felt changed, somehow, and they gazed at each other uncertainly. "It's funny, I never noticed how much like Fred you are," she said slowly.

"It was kind of hard to miss," said George.

"Or how different you were."

"That part's rather more noticeable now."

Angelina nodded. "I suppose so."

They gazed at each other, and George felt a flush rising in his cheeks. What exactly was going on here?

Then she slowly leaned in, and touched her lips to his. He closed his eyes and returned the kiss.

It was a little unsettling how quickly his body decided this was a brilliant idea. He parted his lips, seeking out her tongue with his, seeking warmth and comfort and life and friendship and... and something else George had never felt before with Angelina. It felt good though - very good. It felt completely right, like he was a normal person, reaching out to a friend to see if they could have more than just friendship together. What he'd done with Katie Bell in fifth year, for a while, before deciding they really didn't work too well that way and parting mostly amicably.

It was as if this was perfectly normal between them. And yeah, okay, it might seem a little odd to somebody outside of this room, and would have seemed bizarre to him just a few minutes ago, but that really didn't matter. He caressed her face, enjoying the silky feel and the scent of oranges, the faint taste of sweets on her tongue...

It felt so normal. But it wasn't.

Bugger his stupid conscience, and bugger his common sense. He reluctantly ended their kiss, and sighed. He stepped back a bit. "Erm. I don't think this is a good idea."

Angelina dropped her eyes. "I. Oh God, you must think I'm some sort of sick--"

"No, not at all," said George.

"I don't - I know what I said, but I really didn't - don't think of you as Fred."

George gave a small laugh. "I'm pretty well aware of that." He licked his lip, feeling the warmth of her still. "It's not that; it's only, this isn't a good idea."

"No, it's not."

George hesitated. "Felt pretty good, though, for a bit," he admitted.

She smiled at him. "Yeah, it did."

"Maybe someday? If we're both single and I've been away from a mental ward for more than a few weeks?"

Angelina sniggered. "You're such a hopeless romantic."

George shrugged. "What can I say."

She tilted her head to the side and hesitated briefly before asking. "That... that wasn't pity, just now, was it?"

George gave a small laugh. "I'm not sure what it was, but it wasn't pity."

"Then why?"

George looked away from her. "I don't know. I've never - you know me and Fred were different when it came to girls," he said. "He was the one who dated. I didn't."

"I know, I just thought it only that you hadn't found someone yet."

George shrugged. "I don't know."

"Erm, I should, I should go," said Angelina, glancing at her watch.

George reached out and took her hand in his. "Ange, what just happened, that didn't just... ruin everything, did it?"

"No! No, of course not," she said, her smile a little too bright.

George let go of her hand, stung by her insincere tone. "All right. Good. Thanks for dropping by, then."

Angelina bit her lip, then met his eyes. "No," she repeated more firmly. "No, it hasn't ruined everything. We've been friends since we were kids, one kiss shouldn't change that." She smiled at George hesitantly. "Should it?"

"No."

"I'll see you soon, George," said Angelina, and gave him a hug. He watched her walk out of the shop before heading for the lab, locking the door behind him. He pulled out one of the lab stools and sat, his elbows on the counter and his face in his hands.

Oi, George, what was that?

Nothing. Shut up.

You kissed Angelina.

I noticed. I was there.

You never wanted her that way before.

I didn't want a lot of people before.

Why now?

I don't know.

I mean, really. People you never thought of that way before.

I don't know!

D'you think maybe you need someone? Maybe you're feeling all of this stuff for a reason.

Maybe.

Why not pursue it, then?

Because I'm a mental case who has conversations with his dead brother in his head. Not even Luna Lovegood deserves to have that kind of nuttery dropped onto her.

*****

The girls had gone to bed, and now it was just Fred, George and Lee at the table.

"I still can't believe it," Fred said bitterly, idly making a bottle of Butterbeer dance before him, sporadic sparks of light emerging from its top.

"Neither can I," said George, staring blackly at the dancing bottle. "You know Angelina's probably going to go into a killing rage, once the shock wears off."

"No she won't. She's too upset to kill us."

"Not us, mate. You."

Fred frowned. "Why do you care, anyway?"

George shrugged. "She's your girlfriend. And hey, after all the times you got me in trouble, I finally returned the favour."

"Shut up. Don't remind me. I wanted to split his snotty little face open myself."

"Took three of them to stop you, didn't it?"

"Yeah," Fred grinned.

"Angelina's into that sort of thing, is she?" smirked Lee. "Restraints?"

"Shut up," said Fred, smiling slightly before resuming his brooding scowl. "This is bollocks, mate. This is purest shite. This place is rapidly getting unbearable."

"We've got til June. Then we're out, and we can do whatever the hell we want."

"I don't want to wait that long."

"What d'you mean?" asked Lee, and George was going to ask too, but Fred's expression stopped him.

"Nothing."

"Come on, Fred. What d'you mean?" Lee insisted.

"Nothing, I said," said Fred.

Lee sat back. "Nothing you'll tell me, you mean."

"Let's go to bed," said Fred, getting up. They went upstairs, glaring at anybody who looked like they might dare come talk to them, and got ready for bed.

It was odd, George thought. It didn't seem real that Umbridge had just taken away one of the main things in the school that gave them any kind of pleasure at all. Although, to be honest, punching Malfoy in the face had provided a great deal of pleasure too. Making that sneering, hateful mouth bleed. Stopping Malfoy's dripping scorn at Mum and Dad with his fist. He rubbed his knuckles.

Lee was snoring softly. George was finding it was impossible to do the same, what with the satisfying crunch against Malfoy's mouth, and the wide, toadlike smile on Umbridge's, playing themselves over and over in his memory like photographs.

"George," whispered Fred, and climbed onto George's bed, sitting down cross-legged on it. "This is bollocks."

"Yeah, what can we do about it, though?"

"We can get the hell out of here. After all, why are we here, anyway?"

"Because Mum'll kill us if we're not."

"We're not going to get any NEWTs, you know."

George shrugged. "We don't need 'em. We're going to have a joke shop, right? What do we need NEWTs for?"

"So why are we still here? We've learned all we can learn from this place. Granted, Flitwick might still have some more useful secrets to share, but we're pretty good about doing our own research."

"And?"

"What do you say to not finishing the year?"

In the darkness, even though George could barely see the outline of Fred's cheek and the gleam of his eyes, he didn't need light to guess the expression on Fred's face. It was that look that spelled trouble, the look he had right before he convinced George to use Ron's Puffskein as a Quaffle, right before he decided to bring some of their sweets to the Dursley house when they got Harry for the Quidditch Cup, right before they nicked the Marauders' Map from Filch's office while Filch was standing right there.

And George was going to say yes.

"You're serious."

"Dead serious," Fred nodded.

"What'll we do? Run away?"

"We're of age."

"If we run away from school, we'll never be allowed in the Order," George pointed out.

"If we stay here, we'll never be any good to the Order."

"What'll we do? Go back to The Burrow?"

"You know that shop on Diagon? The shoe shop, Wizarding Toes?" George nodded. "It's going under. The old bloke wants to sell it."

"Hang on," said George. "We were only looking at that shop to see what kind of place we might want to set up in, after school, some day."

"Yeah. And we found that it was exactly what we would want: right on the Alley, good price, decent wards, storage down below, flat up above. Exactly what we need, and what we hope we can find once we were out of school."

"We don't have enough money."

"It's been on the market for two months. I think he could be persuaded to sell it cheaper if we get it sooner rather than later."

"We'd have to Owl the old man soon, if we were going to take it," mused George. "And we wouldn't be able to go to Hogsmeade any more. We'd need to spend all our time making product and doing as much Owl order as possible."

"And cleaning the place."

He was going to say yes, wasn't he? Because Fred's ideas were ridiculous, impossible, and insane, and yet George always went along with them. Folie a deux, and glorious insanity to boot.

"It'd mean you couldn't buy that set of Quidditch robes for Angelina," George pointed out.

"And you couldn't get Lee that Quick Notes Quill."

They glanced towards Lee's bed. "We couldn't tell him, either," said Fred. "Couldn't tell anyone."

"Why not?"

"Umbridge might overhear. Not to mention, what if it doesn't work?"

"Angelina'll do her nut if we just leave."

Fred shrugged. "She's always doing that. We'll post an Owl tomorrow? Work it out next Hogsmeade weekend?"

"It'll need a lot of work. You saw what it was like upstairs."

"It's not like we need to spend time studying."

"Or going to practice."

"Yeah?"

Of course he was going to say yes. There had never really been any doubt.

George grinned. "Yeah."