Paying Your Dues

"Wotcha, Harry!"

"Hey, Fred. Hey, George." Harry summoned a chair from the guards room, and sat facing the cell.

"So how's school then?" asked George, plastering on a grin he really didn't feel. "Bet it's dead boring without us there to show you young 'uns the way."

"Yeah," said Fred, prodding at his congealing prison lunch. "Do they need us to come back and give lectures on keeping up morale?"

Harry grinned and pushed his hair away from his eyes. "Oh, I think we do all right, you know."

Fred's eyes widened. "What's happening now? Is ickle Harry having yet another adventure? What is this time? The Order giving lessons in advanced subterfuge?"

"No, that can't be it," said George. "That's far too mundane for Harry. After all he's practically graduated that class already."

Harry blushed and sneaked a glance round the prison, but the guard seemed to be preoccupied with the sports section of the Daily Prophet. "Shh! Keep your voice down." In spite of his protest he looked pleased at the compliment. "Look I can't talk about that... sort of thing right now." He looked at his hands, grimaced, and then looked back at them. "Anyway, I don't think you called me all the way down here to talk about school days. But thanks for getting me out of class for the afternoon. How did you do that, by the way?"

Now it was the twins' turn to look shifty.

"Er, yeah, well... 'Fraid we can't really talk about it mate. Orders you know." He put a peculiar emphasis on the word 'Orders', and hoped Harry wouldn't pry too much. He had no idea how their lawyer had managed to get Harry the afternoon off school, and had no intention of asking.

Harry blinked. "Oh well. Thanks anyway. Nothing worse than being stuck in that damp cellar with Snape on the prowl." He looked over their shoulders at the contents of their cell, and the damp, stone, walls. "Er, well, er, you know."

"It's OK. We know what you mean."

They sat for a minute in companionable silence. Eventually Fed and George both started talking at once.

"There's been a few..." said George.

"It's just that we hadn't..." said Fred.

They both stopped.

At Harry's raised eyebrow, George tried again. "We've run into a few problems. With the shop."

"Really? I hadn't noticed."

Fred grimaced. "Yeah, well. Um, you see, we kind of didn't..."

"...pay our taxes."

"For how long?"

"Ever," said George.

"But I thought you were doing so well! You turned up to the station at the end of last year in those dragon skin clothes. You're always writing to Ron and telling him how well you're doing and how he can work for you if he doesn't make it as an Auror." Harry eyed them suspiciously. "You weren't lying to him, were you?"

Fred shook his head. "No. No. It's just..."

"We thought the business would be the same outside of school as it was inside. Only with more equipment and less dodging Snape after dark," said George.

"And it isn't?"

George sighed, but it was Fred who answered. "Turns out things don't work quite that way. The thing is, we've been offered a really sweet deal. But once again, we find ourselves turning to you for help. It's a bit..."

"... embarrassing really."

Harry looked blandly at them. "Embarrassing isn't the word I'd choose."

"What word would you use?"

"I don't know. But I'm sure if I asked Hermione she could come up with something that fits."

"Look, Harry, we've been offered a trade. The best solicitor going, to help get the sentence reduced, in exchange for convincing you to give exclusive interviews to the Daily Prophet."

Harry went still, but his face bore resemblance to a gathering storm. "The Daily Prophet," he said.

"Er, yeah."

"In exchange for your freedom?"

"Um, yes."

"I see."

Silence began. It did a few warm ups, stretched, and completed a few laps of the corridor. Harry appeared to have vacated his head for a few minutes. When he came back, he was somehow sadder. George would place good odds that this would be his last favour for them.

"OK."

"OK?"

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Harry looked away from them, at the long corridor leading to the other cells. "Just... don't screw anything else up. I can't keep bailing you out. I have... other responsibilities besides my friends these days."

George supposed Harry would. It belatedly occurred to him to wonder how many of Harry's other friends kept expecting him to just fix all of their problems. And because Harry was Harry, Gryffindor straight and true, how many times had he ridden to all their rescues? It must get tiring after a while. Judging by the stoop of Harry's shoulders, he was feeling worn down by expectations. Time to be a good friend then. "It's the same no matter who you are, you know."

"Huh?" Harry looked confused.

"We all have to live with everyone's expectations of us."

Harry's eyes narrowed, but he tilted his head, tacitly giving George encouragement to continue.

"Fred and I have to put up with reputation and expectation like you do."

Fred joined in. "That's right. By the time we got to school, both our parents and three of our brothers had already been there."

"Everywhere you go, you get "Oh, you're the son of Arthur"."

"Or Molly's son."

"Or Bill's brother."

"Or Percy's," they said simultaneously, and both grimaced.

Fred warmed to the topic. "By the time you arrive at school, everyone has this idea in their heads of what you're capable of, and what you should be like."

"So you can either kill yourself trying to live up to that..."

"Or say "To hell with that", and go your own way."

"But the one thing you can never do, is be someone you're not." George hoped Fred understood where he was taking this discussion.

"You shouldn't agree to the interviews just because you think you have to live up to your image of saviour of the world," said Fred.

Thank God, Fred had known what he was getting at.

Harry sat back in the chair, long legs sprawling, his face thoughtful. "So, you're telling me it's OK to let you rot in a prison cell?"

Fred shook his head. "No. We're saying we got ourselves into this mess, and it's not fair that you should have to rescue us."

"You've got enough on your plate."

"I have an entire dinner set now." Harry ran his hands through his hair, and looked at his palms, as if they had an answer for him. "Needs a wash." He sighed. "What will you do if I don't grant the interviews?"

George looked at Fred. Fred shrugged. "We take what we're given. We're big boys. Had plenty of detentions from Snape."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "This isn't like detention."

"Yes it is. Only with less Snape and Filch."

Fred was trying to make it easier to say no, so George backed him up. "Look Harry, what we're trying to say, is that you should do what's best for you."

"You do have more responsibility, and we shouldn't have dragged you into this," Fred said.

"Basically, we're trying to say we're sorry."

"We didn't think."

George thought that really he should be the one taking all the blame for this, but he couldn't contradict Fred now they were finally working as a team again.

"No, you obviously didn't." Harry snapped. He sat forward again, suddenly tense, fists clenched. "You think I'd let you stay in this place a minute longer than you had to? After what's happened to my family? After what they did to Sirius?"

George opened his mouth but failed to say anything. He hadn't thought about that, though he was pretty sure their lawyer might have.

Harry continued. "You say you're sorry? Why are you saying it to me? All I have to do is give stupid interviews. I can get through those blindfolded now, even without Hermione coaching me in what to say. But what about your parents? Are you sorry for what you've done to them? Your Father could lose his job!"

Oh. Right. That. "Dad doesn't have then entire Wizarding world looking to him to save them."

"He does a lot more than you realise. And even if he didn't, he's got his entire family to support. If you can't apologise to your Father, what about to Ron? What about to Ginny? How are they going to get through the rest of school, if your Father can't pay for them? Don't you think Ron's been through enough at school already?"

George felt his face heat up. His head seemed to want to hide in his shoulders. He hadn't thought about Ginny or Ron at all.

"You take your family for granted. I don't understand why you do that."

Family. Ah. Harry didn't consider them his friends. He thought of them as family. And they'd just implied he'd let his family rot in custody. No, on second thoughts, that probably wouldn't go down too well with him. George tried again.

"We didn't mean it that way. We just got offered an escape clause, and it seemed like the best way out."

"It's still OK for you to not agree to this, Harry."

"They'll burn me at a stake if I leave you here and it comes out that I could have helped! You do realise that, don't you?"

"Yeah. I guess they will." George glanced at the floor and kicked at some non-existent dirt. "We're sorry. We really are. We didn't mean to imply that you'd leave us here, and we didn't mean to drag you in to this in the first place."

"We're sorry that Mum and Dad got hurt, and we're sorry the Daily Prophet is getting its hooks into you."

"It's all such a mess."

Fred got up, paced a bit, eventually settling on leaning sulkily against a wall, which he kicked, just for being there. George frowned as he watched. He really was sorry. He was sorry he'd ever come up with his stupid plan to retaliate against the Ministry. He noticed Harry watching them both, eyes slightly hooded. He looked determined, focused, and slightly scary. Harry stood suddenly, alarming Fred.

"Right then. I'll be off to talk to the Prophet."

George shook his head to clear it. "What?"

"You're both sorry, right?"

"Well, yeah." He was having problems following the conversation.

"Sorry enough not to get caught again?"

George snorted. He didn't think it was by accident that Harry wasn't asking them not to try anything stupid ever again. "I promise that we'll never get caught doing anything like this again."

Harry grinned. "That's what I hoped. I think you've probably learned your lesson." He sobered and continued softly. "Besides, I really can't just leave you at the mercy of the Wizmagot. Who knows what they'll make up to hurt your Dad?"

George's brow furrowed. "The Wizmagot? But we're only up on tax evasion!"

"You didn't know? They bumped you up through the courts." Harry frowned. "Don't you realise that this isn't about what we want anymore. There are people out there who'll do anything, anything to hurt your family, just because you're my friends. They don't care what happens to you."

Dinner set. Right. Harry knew a hell of a lot of people, all of whom were targets. George grimaced and looked away.

Apparently Harry knew them both pretty well. "Yeah. Exactly. Look. I'll do you a deal. I'll do this deal with the Prophet to help you out, if you agree to think twice about the consequences of any more of your bright ideas."

Just slightly hypocritical, George thought. "Pot? Kettle? Black?"

"Black. Yes. Sirius." Harry shot back.

Oh. Damn. He opened his mouth to apologise, but Fred strode back to the bars and bet him to it.

"Ignore my brother. He's as diplomatic as a Swedish Ridgeback. And we promise, we'll be more careful in future."

"Just try guys. That's all I'm asking. The day's going to come when I'll have to ask everyone to repay the favours they owe me. I need as many of my friends still around as I can possibly keep." He nodded, turned on his heel and walked out.

In that moment, George knew he would never again be able to look at Harry and see the pale, skinny kid they'd first met on platform 9. He wasn't sure where the cynical man who'd just left them had come from, but he knew he wouldn't trade places with him for all the knuts in Gringotts.

"Ever get the feeling our problems aren't as bad as we thought?" Fred asked from just behind him, echoing his own thoughts.

"Oh, I reckon they will be when he comes to call in that favour."

They stared after Harry as he took his leave with the guard, then moved around a corner and out of view.

"That's that then."

"Yeah."

For a minute the only noise was from the guard in the waiting room scratching his leg and turning pages. Then Fred said loudly, "I spy, with my little eye..."