George & Annie: an Unofficial Biography

Chapter 12: Year 5

1993 - 1994

September 2, 1993

Dear Annie,

Egypt was amazing! Bill is one lucky so-and-so, getting to work there for Gringott's. Mum nearly lost it when he took us all out for dinner to a place with belly dancers, and every one of them knew him by name! Fred & I got you a little present - it's for good luck, or so goes the legend. Bill says he finds them in mummies all the time. They are set over the dead bloke's heart, and are supposed to help him avoid going to hell for his sins. Figured you could use something like that.

Lots of changes here at Hogwarts this year. I am utterly ashamed to write this, but Percy is Head Boy this year. Please do me the kindness of never mentioning it to my face again. We will speak of it nevermore.

Got a new D.A.D.A professor, as well (as per usual). Looks like the poor fellow is barely hanging on - perhaps he's not long for the job either. They may be scraping the bottom of the barrel just to come up with one at this point.

And some truly good news: Hagrid is now the Magical Creatures professor! Perhaps I will actually enjoy a class this year. Unfortunately, I think he may have been a bit too ambitious, introducing hippogriffs in his first lesson to the third years. Rumor has it that it mauled that little shit Malfoy today. Fred and I are planning to sneak down to the paddock tonight with a brace of ferrets for it as a reward. Maybe Hagrid will let us train it to attack Malfoy on sight.

I'm enclosing a list of the items we spoke about earlier. Most of them are ingredients to help reverse spells, not cause damage, so just in case this all blows up in our faces you'll not be implicated. I realize the rue is a long shot, considering the season, but figure it doesn't hurt to hope. Can't thank you enough for agreeing to do this! We certainly don't have the funds to buy all this stuff.

Love,

George & Fred

Agrimony - leaves and roots
Briony - roots
Gentian - roots
Hyssop (blue & white only) - flowers
Moonwort - whole plant
Pennyroyal - whole plant
Rue - young shoots
Snapdragon - leaves
Toadflax - flowers
Skullcap - whole plant

*

September 14, 1993

Dear Fred & George,

Glad to hear you had a good time in Egypt. I'd say you're entire family is pretty lucky, considering you won a trip for eight to such an exotic destination! The scarab is beautiful - thank you both.

As requested, I will not mention your book-loving, rule-kissing, teacher-worshipping, stick-in-the-ass Head Boy brother. You're welcome.

Please keep your distance from the hippogriff. I remember reading about those. I don't think it's the sort of beast that appreciates first-rate smart-asses like yourselves.

Here is your first delivery. The riverbanks were loaded with skullcap this year, and the blue hyssop was quite abundant as well. Might even be able to send a second batch of that next time. And you're in luck: stumbled on a thick growth of briony and dug up the roots for you. Now you can beat the hell out of one another and the bruises should be all cleared by morning.

I'm also enclosing the snaps from the roll of film you took this summer, and the one I took of the rose in comparison. What do you think?

And George, aren't you tired of forging Fred's name on these letters yet?

Love you more,

Annie

P.S. Do you realize your previous letter was the first one I've gotten without a quidditch reference in years?

*

Annie rode her skateboard into town, picking up speed as she coasted down the artificial hill of the bridge. She still had more than an hour to kill before her shift started at the restaurant, so she turned off High Street and onto a residential one. The weather was perfectly mild and dry, and she was hoping that would translate into a busy and profitable night when it came to tips.

She missed working at the curry house. The family that had owned it had been friendly and the food delicious, but sadly they had decided to relocate to a larger town. So now she was stuck waitressing at one of the cafes here in Ottery. She wasn't doing badly at all though - she had a tidy little sum saved up in her account at the bank, and put most of every paycheck in it.

Annie had been wandering aimlessly through the winding side streets of town when she suddenly she heard a familiar voice call out her name. She turned to see Stephen sitting in his open garage, a guitar in his lap. She hadn't even realized she was on his street.

"Looking for trouble?" he asked her with a smile.

"I've certainly found it, regardless," she answered with a laugh. She coasted up the small paved path from the street to where he sat. She had a few minutes to spare for an old comrade, she figured. Just to be polite. She hadn't seen him in ages - Jane, Gran, running and work occupied most of her out-of-school time.

"Been a while. Where is it that you hide yourself all summer long?" he asked her.

"I don't hide myself," she protested. "Some of us have adult responsibilities, like jobs," she teased him as she leaned back against the doorjamb.

Stephen grimaced. "I have a job as well," he argued, referring to the garage band he had started late last year.

"A paying job?" she needled him.

He laughed. "Any day now, we'll get our big break. You'll see."

"Right. Don't you need to know how to play a musical instrument first?"

"Nah," he laughed, strumming a few chords. "You just need good looks. The rest can be faked."

Annie laughed. She had almost forgotten that Stephen could be funny and pleasant to be around, especially when there was no one else to posture in front of. He seemed to be a different person when he was with her, alone. More genuine, somehow.

"You should join us. Wanna be in the band?"

Annie shook her head. "No way. You'll never convince Geoff or Mike to go for it."

Stephen raised an eyebrow. "They'll do whatever I tell them, trust me," he boasted.

Annie smiled and bleated like a sheep in response. It was their private joke, though she had never really been kidding about it. She wondered if perhaps that was the reason Stephen sought her out sometimes - that she would say or do what she wanted, rather than submit to him in all things like the others seemed to be content to do.

"You don't want me - I have no musical talent whatsoever," she argued with a giggle.

"Weren't you listening to me before? You've got great legs and a nice rack. The rest doesn't matter," he said, cocking his eyebrow and grinning.

"Okay then! I'm out of here," she said, disappointed once again that he chose to resort to macho rudeness. Dropping her skateboard back to the ground, she hopped on. Why did he always have to ruin any pleasant moment with his vulgar mouth?

"Can't you tell when somebody's kidding, Jones? Why are you always so uptight?" He stood up, setting the guitar down, and followed after her.

Annie hesitated and turned around to look at him. Maybe he was right - maybe she was being oversensitive. They had just been joking around. At least he had finally quit calling her sweetheart, like she asked.

"Sorry. I guess maybe I do overreact to comments like that," she admitted as she coasted to a stop at the end of the driveway.

"No, I'm sorry. I know you don't like it, and I shouldn't have teased you. Come back and sit down," he asked her, taking her by the forearm and pulling her back toward the garage. She stayed on the skateboard, and he chuckled as she rolled on it after him.

"Okay... so play something. Let's hear it," she said with a smile. She leaned back against the wall of the garage. Maybe if his brain was focused on playing the guitar, he might be prevented from sticking his foot in his mouth again.

"All right," he said, sitting down again. "Here's a song for you, Annie," he added, beginning to strum some chords.

As he played the gentle, lilting introduction of the song, she tried unsuccessfully to place it. Surely he hadn't written something of his own?

Then he began to sing, looking straight at her.

Hey lady, you've got the love I need,
Maybe more than enough,
Oh darlin', darlin', darlin'
Walk a while with me,
Oh you've got so much
So much, so much.... *

Annie was mesmerized. Where had this come from? This sweet, charming side of Stephen? The smooth voice and bright smile had never been there before, she was sure of it. Watching him play, she could understand why some of the girls at school had begun to fancy him. He wasn't unattractive, she conceded. Pair that with the bad boy reputation - which was greatly overblown and largely undeserved, as she knew from personal experience - and now the fact that he could sing a serenade.... She could see now that he could be very charming, indeed.

He finished the song, only looking away from her occasionally to glance at the fret board, checking his finger placement.

He must have been practicing this song a lot, she thought. "That was surprisingly good," she offered as a compliment.

He set the guitar down gently, stood up, and walked over to where she was standing just inside the doorway. "I have a confession to make," he said as he stood in front of her.

Annie's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion, but she said nothing.

"I wasn't kidding before," he said in a hushed voice, placing his hands on the wall on either side of her head, pinning her loosely in place. It was a gesture that made it clear she was free to escape if she wanted to, but the intensity of his stare was keeping her frozen in place. "I think you're beautiful," he whispered.

Annie was stunned. No one had ever used that word in relation to her. No one had ever looked at her in this way before, either. She was confused, and flattered, and curious, but also rendered speechless.

"May I kiss you?" he asked.

Annie shrugged, at a loss. What would it be like? To kiss a boy? she wondered.

Stephen slowly leaned in, giving her every chance to refuse. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips against hers. His hands moved from the wall to rest lightly on her hips.

Annie wasn't sure what to do. She tried to kiss him back, experimenting, echoing what she perceived he was doing, while keeping her hands flat against the wall. Meanwhile, her eyes were open, watching him, and her mind was attempting to analyze what was happening.

Not only did it make no sense to her, it felt... odd. Wrong, somehow. Not in a moral sense, but just not... right for her. She could only describe it in a clichéd term - like a puzzle piece that didn't fit. One thing was very clear: this was not what she wanted from Stephen.

She then began to wonder how long this was going to go on. He was apparently in no hurry to come up for air. Her mind began to work on coming up with ways to extricate herself from the kiss, without causing too much offense.

Stephen solved the problem for her. One hand began creeping up her torso toward her chest.

Annie angrily swatted his hand and pushed him away. "I said you could kiss me, and that was all," she said.

"You were kissing me back," he argued. "I thought you liked it."

She caught herself just in time; she was about to snap at him, tell him he was mistaken, but reconsidered. Perhaps she had given him some sort of signal - how would she know? She had never kissed a boy before. There was no reason to hurt his feelings because of her own ignorance.

"It was... fine, I guess," she offered, lying through her teeth.

"Do you want to do it some more?" he asked eagerly.

"No," she said firmly. She was startled as his face fell in disappointment. Feeling sorry for him, and slightly guilty that perhaps she had led him on, she added, "I have to go to work now," as an excuse, avoiding the truth.

"Oh," he said brightly, with false understanding. "Maybe later?"

"I don't know..." she answered. She hoped the tone of her voice adequately conveyed her reluctance to consider the possibility. She didn't want to keep leading him on. If he thought for one moment that this wasn't an isolated incident, then trouble would be unavoidable. "I think we should just be friends, Stephen," she said with finality.

"Whatever," he answered, as if this didn't bother him in the least. "We can keep it casual," he added.

"Keep what casual, exactly?" she asked, confused.

"This. You and me. Nothing official, or exclusive. Just whenever...."

Annie was alarmed now. "There is no this, Stephen, exclusive or otherwise. This was a one time thing. Do you understand?"

He smiled at her, as if he knew her own mind better than she did. "I get it," he replied.

Annie was pretty sure he didn't. She glanced at her watch. It really was time for her to go, if she wasn't going to be late for work. But there was one more thing she needed to tell him before she left. "Stephen, I hope it goes without saying, but... please don't tell anyone about this, okay?"

He nodded at her once, still smiling that smug smile. "Gotcha. Our secret."

"I'm serious, Stephen. Not a soul," she urged as she hopped onto her skateboard and started down the driveway.

"I'll see you around," he called out as she sped away.

Her first instinct had been right all along. She had found trouble. When will I ever learn to steer clear of Stephen Drake? she asked herself.

*

October 15, 1993

Dear Annie,

Cheers! The briony was a real life-saver. We've been working on a fainting potion and have the bruises to prove it. Didn't want people to get the impression we were anything but invincible in a fight, you understand (wink snort).

Quidditch practice has begun. This is Wood's last year, and he's maniacal about winning the Cup. It's completely out of hand. If he's not careful, he'll either run us ragged with overwork or we'll go loony from all the whiny pep-talks.

Not much else to add. Ron's rat is sure to give up the ghost soon. The thing is ancient already, been looking like it's at death's door for weeks now, and Hermione's new cat keeps pouncing on it. I'm tempted to feed the damn thing to Buckbeak (Hagrid's hippogriff) and end the stalemate.

Fred says he has no idea what you're talking about regarding his signature. Looking forward to the next package!

Love,

George & FRED

*

October 30, 1993

Dear George & FRED,

Happy to be of service. Here's your latest, and possibly last package of goodies for a while. We've had several good frosts this week, so I'm not anticipating finding much more for you from here on out. It's everything but the rue - you were right, it's too late in the season. Gran has a bush of it in our garden, I'll keep my eyes on it this spring and ship it right out as soon as it starts growing again.

Your first match must be coming up soon. Plus you've got the Halloween feast tomorrow. You must be looking forward to those two events. And feel free to crack a book - I won't tell a soul.

Jane is taking me with her family on a weekend trip to Cardiff, to tour the university there. Never really been outside of Devon before, and of course Gran is thrilled I'm headed to her terra mater, Cymru. She's pestering me to take loads of pictures while I'm there. Oh and please would I make her the happiest woman on earth by attending a nice Welsh school myself when the time comes?

Write back and tell me all about the match. Win Gryffindor!

Love you more,

Annie

*

November 8, 1993

Dear Annie,

Thanks for the package. It was a bit large - we got a few suspicious looks from the professor's table, but managed to escape the Great Hall before anyone could confiscate it.

We had quite a bit of excitement here at Halloween. Somebody attacked the Fat Lady's portrait, presumably trying to get into Gryffindor Tower. Rumor says it was Sirius Black, an escaped convict, but I find that highly doubtful. At any rate, no one was hurt, but everyone is now quite jumpy, especially the professors. So many watchful eyes are making life for Fred and me rather difficult at the moment.

And now for the bad news. The Malfoy prick somehow managed to get Slytherin excused from playing in our regular match, so we played Hufflepuff instead at the last minute. Which should have been fine, except for the fact that there's a great filthy herd of dementors infesting the grounds of Hogwarts this year. They swarmed around Harry, who fell off his broom because of it, and wound up in hospital (he's recovered, don't worry). The worst of it was his lovely Nimbus2000 was bashed to smithereens by a whomping willow. Damn crying shame, that was. And the final insult: we lost.

Write back soon with some happier news. Did you have fun in Cardiff?

Love,

George & Fred

*

November 17, 1993

Dear George (& Fred),

Sorry to hear you're having such a bad term. A real shame about the match. Maybe we should be optimists, and assume things can only get better?

I hesitate to ask this, but what is a dementor? Judging from the name, it doesn't sound like anything pleasant.

And how does an escaped convict get inside Hogwarts? I thought you said the place was virtually impenetrable.

Cardiff was quite a bit of fun. The university is pretty much what one would expect, lots of old buildings. I spent one morning with Jane's parents touring the Welsh National Gallery. I don't mean to be ungrateful to them for taking me, and I do appreciate art, but how many paintings of pastoral landscapes and portraits of dead fat ladies does the world really need? At least your sort of art is interactive.

Cheer up, lads. The term is almost over and the holidays nearly upon us! Cheers!

Love you more,

Annie

*

Two girls were chatting at the mirror of the girls' toilet at school. Annie was just about to step out of the stall when something she heard made her freeze.

"So, Felicia, how was your date with Stephen Drake?" said a girl's voice, eager for gossip.

Annie stepped back away from the stall door. The last thing she needed right now was to show her face when Stephen was the topic of conversation. Somehow, the 'casual' kiss that was supposed to have been secret had instantly exploded into a full-blown relationship via the gossip mindfuck that was high school. She had been so furious that she hadn't spoken to him for nearly two months.

"Poor bloke, he's brokenhearted, you know. That Jones bitch really did a number on him," Felicia answered her friend.

"What did he expect from a whore like that?" cried the friend.

Annie pressed her fingers against her temples so hard it hurt. Surely they would leave soon, before she made a spectacle of herself and went berserk. For an instant, though, she felt a pang of guilt. Had she really hurt Stephen? she wondered. That had certainly never been her intention....

"I know! Anyway, it was so romantic! He's in a band, you know. He played me this Zeppelin song; it was so sweet. Then he told me he thinks I'm beautiful," Felicia reported. "And then we snogged for about an hour straight," she bragged.

Annie thought she was going to vomit. The serenade... telling her she was beautiful.... It had been an act, she now realized. A routine. Had she been Stephen's guinea pig? A test case? Market research?

"Is that all?" asked Friend, apparently expecting more.

"Well, I let him feel me up a bit, of course," Felicia claimed, giggling.

Annie was shaking with disgusted rage at her gullibility. Stephen's every single syllable, every single gesture had been identical with her. Count to ten, she desperately urged herself. One... two... three....

"Over or under the sweater?" asked Friend curiously.

"What do you think?" Felicia replied, implying the racier of the two took place.

"Ooh, you are a naughty girl," laughed Friend, pretending to be scandalized. "Are you going to see him again?"

"He asked me to come over Friday. Said we could go somewhere after the band practices...."

The girls' voices began to recede as they left the bathroom. Annie sunk back onto the toilet seat as the small room grew quiet once more. Her breath was coming in rapid gasps, and she was feeling dizzy with the effort not to scream.

The bell rang for the next class. She stayed where she was, knowing she was no state to face a roomful of fellow students. The slightest offense from one of them would send her off the deep end, and she couldn't afford the scandal.

It had been a routine, she repeated in her head. And she had fallen for it. She had been so stupid to think for even a moment that she had ever meant anything to him. Certainly not as a friend. Not as anything other than a tool. Something to be used.

She spent the next fifteen minutes getting her anger under control physically. Her breathing and heart rate were calmed by force of will; the adrenaline in her blood dissipated. Meanwhile, she steeled herself to face the hellish world of school once more.

As she sat there on the toilet, Annie resolved she would no longer acknowledge, much less try to quell the persistent rumors. Her efforts to do so had done no good whatsoever, and she now realized that Stephen had been right, last spring, when he had told her the more one refuted a claim, the more it seemed to stick as gospel truth. Further, she would not attempt to punish the traitor who started them - would ignore the idiots who spread or believed them. She would not give them the satisfaction of seeing her upset by anything they did. From this moment on, they would have no power over her.

And she would never again spare another kind thought for Stephen Drake.

*

December 16, 1993

Dear Annie,

You don't really want to know what a dementor is. They're Azkaban guards, here hunting for Black. Hopefully they catch the bloody fellow soon and get the hell out of here.

The weather is even colder and gloomier than usual, and that's saying something. It's getting hard to get out of bed in the morning, to be honest. I should probably be eating more chocolate.

Ravenclaw pounded Hufflepuff, which is good news for us. Means there's still hope for the Cup, as long as we play astoundingly well in our next two matches. Which is quite possible, actually: Angelina, Alicia and Katie are really rather impressive. And Wood never lets anything through the goals anymore. Hopefully Harry will have a new broom soon.

Speaking of Harry, Fred and I have decided to bequeath him the map. Poor bloke is stuck here in the castle while the rest of us get to escape to Hogsmeade (his idiot uncle wouldn't sign his permission slip). It took a bit of work, but I convinced Fred we didn't need it anymore. We've already memorized all the shortcuts and secret tunnels, and we're better at disillusionment charms than anyone we know. Time to pass it on, share the knowledge.

Happy Christmas! Oh, and why is Fred's name in parentheses? He's curious.

Love,

George & Fred

*

December 31, 1993

Dear George (& Fred),

Happy New Year (nearly)! Christmas was fan-flipping-tastic for me this year. Gran got me a laptop computer WITH an internet connection into my room. She says it's for school, university in particular (she's trying to guilt me into it with the gift), but all I care about is it's mine now! No more trudging to the public library whenever I have to write a paper! Woo-hoo!

That was very generous of you, giving Harry the map. You're true humanitarians, you lot. Maybe Harry will use it for good rather than idiotically reckless purposes. Maybe he'll sneak into the library to study after hours (ha ha).

Oh, and if the dementors are still at Hogwarts, who's guarding Azkaban?

Got to go... off to Jane's for a soiree. Hope you find something to raise your spirits next year!

Love you more,

Annie

P.S. Fred's name is in parentheses because I no longer believe Fred either reads or writes any part of these letters. And I do not believe he is curious about it either. He is a toad, and please tell him so from me.

*

January 21, 1994

Dear Annie,

Explain more about your Christmas present. I remember what a computer is, but what is an internet connection? Is that like the cord that plugs into the wall? I thought that was called electricity.

Who's guarding Azkaban, you ask? That's a good question! Black is still on the loose, no sign of him since Halloween. Maybe he's moved on, and Dumbledore will make the creepy things leave empty-handed.

Excellent news: we've had a breakthrough with one of the sweets. Fred came across a spell that turns you into a canary for about 10 seconds, then you molt and return to normal. We've been experimenting with casting it into edible stuff, and so far the best fit seems to be biscuits. It does affect the taste though (a bit gamey), so it still needs work. Hopefully we'll have something to send you soon!

More excellent news: Slytherin beat Ravenclaw, so they have a loss now as well. Things continue to look good for us regarding the Cup.

And the most excellent news: Harry got a new broom. Actually, I hesitate to even refer to the magnificent thing as a broom. A rocket, more like. It's an M.F. bloody Firebolt (I would ask you to pardon the profanity, but since I learned it from you...). The only downside is that it was sent to him anonymously, and the old biddy professors here seem to think it might be jinxed. I say, who gives a flying eff? He'll get it back soon, any day now we all hope, and then we're practically invincible!

Love,

George (& Fred - all right I admit he doesn't participate, but he always asks after you when he notices you've written us! Ribbit!)

*

February 1, 1994

Dear George (& Fred),

The internet is a difficult thing to explain. It basically boils down to loads of computers all over the world being connected by wires that store & share information and can communicate with each other, on command. This is probably ridiculously simplified to the point of being flat-out wrong, but it'll have to do. Sometime I'll show you how it works. It will help make studying for exams a bit easier for me, that's for sure.

Speaking of studying for exams... are you? Nevermind - I can hear you snorting from here.

Excellent news about the canary cookies. Can't wait to try one!

Good luck against Ravenclaw! Hope Harry has a better time of it. Are the dementors gone yet?

Love you more,

Annie

*

February 29, 1994

Dear Annie,

Cheers! Happy birthday! It's the big #4 for you! Hope you like the little scribble... little cartoons like this are rather popular here these days, and we thought you'd enjoy one of your own. Fred drew the pictures, he seems to be better at animation than handwriting. And here are half a dozen Canary Creams!

Lots of news to share this go. First, Harry got his Firebolt back in time for our match versus Ravenclaw. It was a rout! Gryffindor haven't had a win like this in a decade at least. And the best part: (insert your favorite rude insult here) Malfoy was caught bang to rights trying to sabotage the match! Fred and I hosted a soiree of our own in the Common room, with the culinary help of the Hogwarts house elves.

Next item: apparently Sirius Black has his sights set on something or someone in Gryffindor. He snuck into the tower at night after the party, and slashed the bed curtains of one of the students here. Ron's manky old rat appears to be the only victim. Apparently Longbottom the Tosspot left the passwords lying around, WRITTEN DOWN on paper. Now there's security trolls in the corridors. Smelly blighters, those trolls. So no, the dementors are not gone yet.

And as for studying, that's what Easter holidays are for. Don't tell me you've started already?

Love,

George & FRED (Happy birthday you git - and yes it's really me. Ribbit!)

*

"Relax, Jane. You're eighteen for real, and you won't be the one going to jail," Annie reassured her friend who was anxiously glancing around the bar. "I'll take the fall alone, if I get caught."

"No one's getting busted," argued Jane's old boyfriend, Robin.

He had been in seventh year when Jane arrived in Ottery, and she had promptly snagged the cutest, smartest, most popular boy in school as her boyfriend. He was a nice fellow to boot, Annie reckoned, and had always treated them both with respect. He and Jane had mutually decided to break it off when he left for college, but Annie suspected they both still harbored feelings for each other.

"The fake ID got Annie past the bouncer, and that's all that matters. We're in, and that's the end of it," he said as he gave Jane a bracing one-armed hug. "My birthday's not till May, Annie, so I got plenty of use out of mine my first year here, that's for sure. It's a good one, I promise."

Jane had arranged for Robin to get the ID for Annie as a birthday present, "In case you find a car to buy sooner than you think," she had explained. She knew Annie was in the market to buy a vehicle, to help her transport her Gran to medical appointments (which were becoming increasingly frequent and farther away from home), rather than always borrowing Mrs. Finnerty's. And it would still be two years before Annie could legally drive - or drink in public for that matter. Annie had been at least as touched by the thoughtfulness of the gesture as she had been shocked that Jane had resorted to illicit activity to obtain the gift. Granted, Robin was the one who actually got it, but it was at Jane's request, after all.

"Sorry. I guess this just goes against everything I'm used to," Jane said with a nervous giggle.

"It's good for you to step outside your comfort zone, once in a while," Annie said with a wink. "I've been begging you to get into trouble with me for ages."

Jane laughed in response. "I suppose... it is a bit thrilling," she confessed.

"Finally!" cried Annie. "Perfect Jane loosens up a bit!"

Jane stuck out her tongue at her.

"Rob, go dance with her. She needs to burn off some of that nervous energy," Annie encouraged them.

"We're not going to leave you alone here," Jane scolded.

"She won't be alone... here comes Andy," Robin answered.

After they said brief hellos and introductions, Robin dragged Jane over to the dance floor, leaving Annie with his flatmate, Andy. She hadn't met him before, nor had she been able to find out anything more about him from Robin other than, "He's a good bloke."

"So it's your birthday, then?" Andy asked, making small talk as they sat alone at the table. "Rob told me that's why you two are visiting. Having fun?"

"Sure," she replied cheerfully, appreciating his effort to be friendly. She took a long drink from her pint. Andy had light brown hair, brown eyes, was of average height and build. In short: he was completely nondescript, but not in an unattractive way, Annie reckoned. More like safe and reliable.

"Do you mind me asking how old?" he asked, smiling.

"Eighteen, of course," she said, laughing, holding up her pint glass of ale as proof.

He laughed as well. "I don't think so..." he added in a lower voice.

Annie paused. "What do you mean?" she asked a bit anxiously. Had Rob told him about the fake ID?

"Well, if your birthday really is on Leap Day, then your age would have to be divisible by four. I may not be a genius at maths, but that rules out eighteen, I'm afraid. Your options are twenty, which is highly unlikely, or sixteen, which is highly illegal," he said with a smile.

"Aren't you clever?" she replied. "Actually, my birthday was yesterday...." She attempted to sound casual in her false explanation as her anxiety was building.

"I'm sure it was," he laughed, unfooled. "That's the most logical conclusion, after all. Don't look so nervous, I'll never tell," he assured her. "Although I think it's rather irresponsible of Rob to bring a pretty sixteen-year-old to a place like this. The sharks are already circling," he added, nodding toward the crowded bar.

Annie looked at him guardedly. She had fallen victim to flattery once before, and wasn't eager to repeat the experience. "Eighteen-year-old, remember? And I can take care of myself, thank you very much," she instructed him. The safest bet was always to stick to the original story, she found.

"Right," he answered, smirking. "I hope you don't take offense, but I think I'll keep an eye on you tonight anyway. And do me a favor," he added, waving the waitress over to their table.

"That depends," Annie replied, leery.

"Try to keep hydrated," he recommended, then turned to ask the waitress to bring a pitcher of water and a few empty glasses. "It'll help you feel better tomorrow."

"Oh," she responded, surprised by what now appeared to be Andy's genuine concern for a complete stranger. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he replied, taking a drink from his glass.

Jane and Rob returned to the table then and joined the conversation. The four of them continued to chat for a while, and Annie learned Andy was studying to be a doctor.

"Really? Wow - I can't imagine anyone voluntarily going to school for so long," she teased him.

Andy shrugged. "It's what I'm good at. A professional student, me."

Annie shook her head. "No offense, mate, but that sounds like hell on earth," she laughed.

He laughed in response. "Not far from the truth, actually. And no, to answer your next question, I have no life," he added.

"You need a hobby," she counseled him, "to get you out of the library. Something that doesn't involve books. Something reckless - maybe skydiving? Or racing motorcycles?"

Andy laughed, shaking his head. "I'm studying human anatomy, remember? I know exactly what a mess I would make upon impact."

"All right, ladies," Robin interrupted. "Ready for tonight's lesson? Time to learn proper pub etiquette, you two."

"Wipe your hand after you sneeze into it?" Jane teased.

"Save the spitting for outdoors?" added Annie.

"Har, har," Robin laughed sarcastically, setting two full shot glasses in front of them. "When a fellow offers you a drink, what do you do then, smarty pants?"

"I already know the answer to this one, Annie. Why don't you give it a try?" Jane bluffed.

"Of course you do, Jane. Is there any question in the world you don't know the answer to?" she replied sarcastically.

"The answer is," Robin said in an exasperated tone, "you accept it, and politely chat with the generous fellow until the beverage is finished."

"Glad it's a shot, then," Annie teased him as she knocked it back. "Just about time enough to say thanks, and move on!"

"Point well taken," laughed Robin. "I'll remember that, next time. Pints only, from now on!"

As the evening progressed, Robin, Jane and Annie proceeded to get somewhat inebriated, under the watchful eye of their babysitter and designated driver Andy. Annie was careful to follow his advice, downing as much water as she could in between alcoholic beverages bought by friendly gentlemen. By the end of the night, Annie and Jane both had pockets full of drink napkins and coasters containing phone numbers, pressed into their hands by hopeful, drink-buying admirers as they danced and mingled.

"I can't believe the utter pigs there are in this town," Andy said in shock as Annie emptied out her pockets in his car, letting the scraps fall to the already cluttered floor. She sat in the front seat next to him, while Robin and Jane were exploring the possibility of rekindling their romance for the evening in the back. "They couldn't all be so drunk as to not notice your age."

"Maybe they were blinded by my beauty and charm," Annie giggled drunkenly at her own wit, poking fun at herself.

Andy snorted. "It's amusing how you think that's a joke," he said quietly.

"Don't be such an old biddy," she needled him, misinterpreting his comment. "So they thought I look a bit older than you did. Most of them were just being polite to me. I think the term is 'wingman?' Jane was the flame drawing the moths."

"I suppose they deserve whatever they get, in the end," he said shaking his head with a rueful smile.

The occupants in the backseat were starting to make suspiciously romantic kiss-like noises, so Andy turned on the radio to block them out. He and Annie drove the rest of the way back to his flat in silence.

Andy flipped on the lights as the four of them entered the apartment. He led Annie to the doorway of his room, politely indicating she was welcome to have his bed for the night, adding, "I'll take the sofa."

"I should be the one on the sofa," she argued as he pressed another glass of water and some aspirin in her hands. "I'm the interloper."

"Won't hear of it. Let me pretend to be chivalrous," he said with a smile.

Suddenly the light in the front room was switched off. They heard Jane quietly giggle in response.

"Uh-oh. Think I should go break those two up?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

Annie thought for a moment, then nodded. "Best to turn the hose on them for tonight. If they feel the same way when they're sober tomorrow morning, then I'll apologize and take the blame."

"Right. Off to bed with you now," he said softly as he closed the door behind him, leaving her alone in his room.

She could hear him rousting the amorous couple in the front room, then the other bedroom door close shortly after. "No sneaking back, Rob," Andy admonished his roommate about ten minutes later. Annie fell asleep soon after that.

She was the first to awaken the next morning. Apart from a very dry mouth, she felt none the worse for wear. Annie dressed quickly and tiptoed into the bathroom for a drink of water and quick attempt to tame her hair. Then she crept quietly into the tiny kitchen and nosed around. Finding nothing at all to eat, she happened upon a set of keys instead. She nicked them and silently headed out of the flat, hoping to find a market within walking distance.

Annie had been back in the flat for nearly twenty minutes, and had a pile of sausages cooked and on a plate before anyone else began to stir. She had just begun to pour a second round of pancake batter onto the skillet when a voice startled her.

"I didn't know we had any food in here," mumbled Andy in the doorway.

"The cupboards were bare, in fact. You might be shocked to learn there's a market just around the corner," she said with a smile.

Andy chuckled. "Are you surprised we don't do much cooking here? This is a bachelor's flat, after all."

"No. Especially once I discovered the cobwebs on the pots and pans," she giggled.

"You don't have to go all this effort," he said, serious for a moment.

"I do if I'm to have a prayer of eating this morning," she teased.

"Point for Miss Jones," he laughed as she handed him a plate with a stack of steaming pancakes. "You seem to be feeling all right this morning," he added.

"All due to your expert advice," she replied. "Thanks again. I had a great time last night. One of my better birthdays," she added.

"Not the best?" he asked, pretending to take offense.

"No... not quite," she said, sounding slightly wistful. The best ones were far behind her now, in her childhood. Eight had been magical, nine had been fantastic, and ten had been simply wonderful. She was reminded of that one rather often - whenever she was alone in the garden, in fact.

"Well, you've only had sixteen of them, you know," he said disapprovingly as he took a bite.

"All right already, I confess," she said, rolling her eyes. "Guilty as charged."

"I don't blame you, you know. I'm not really such a wet blanket as you might think," he said before taking another bite. 'These are amazing! What's in them?"

"Secret family recipe," she giggled. "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," she joked as she poured them each a cup of tea.

They were joined at that moment by a shuffling and grimacing Jane.

"Good Lord. You look like you got the rough end of it, Jane," said Annie sympathetically.

"Aspirin. And tea, if you please," she croaked in response.

Annie passed her a cup and the bottle. "Want any breakfast?"

Jane shook her head, and winced again. "Not just yet," she moaned. After another moment, she asked Annie, "How is it you're so chipper this morning?"

"I came in a distant second in the popularity contest," Annie needled her. "You had far more free drinks than I did," she explained further in response to Jane's confused look.

"What an idiot I am," she groaned, laying her head onto the table. "Could I have another?" she asked as she pushed her empty teacup toward Annie.

"Of course, poppet," Annie cooed. "And maybe a nice, hot shower - if that's all right with you, Andy?"

He nodded. "I'll just go set out some towels," he offered as he rose to leave the table.

It was late in the morning before Jane and Annie were finally prepared to leave. Jane was nearly recovered from her hangover, but agreed to let Annie drive them home anyway. The morning had been a bit awkward once Robin had woken up - both he and Jane were a bit embarrassed by their behavior the night before.

Annie and Andy had tried to give them some privacy to sort it out while Annie loaded their things in the car.

"Rob's a decent guy, you know," Andy offered. "I don't think he meant to take advantage of her last night. They were both pretty drunk...."

Annie nodded in agreement. "It was at least as much Jane's fault as his, and she knows it. I think they still have some unfinished business between them, though."

"The perils of high school romance," he said a bit sarcastically.

"I wouldn't know," Annie laughed.

"You can't expect me to believe that," Andy replied.

Annie shrugged, but was saved from arguing the point as Jane and Robin walked out the door, holding hands. Annie looked at Andy with her eyebrow raised, as if to point out her assessment was accurate, and he rolled his eyes in response. He walked around to the driver's door and opened it for her.

As she started to step into the car, Andy gently took her hand and put a small piece of paper in it. "I hope you'll call me... when you're really eighteen," he whispered, and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. "Drive safely, ladies," he said more loudly as Annie sank slowly into the driver's seat, and he carefully shut the door behind her.

"Nice fellow, Andy," said Jane innocently, gazing out the window at the two fellows now chatting with each other on the sidewalk.

Apparently Jane hadn't noticed the brief exchange between Andy and herself, to Annie's immense relief. She had been stunned by the kiss, and was scrambling to recover her composure as she stuffed the slip of paper into her pocket.

"That he is," Annie agreed as she pulled out onto the road, doing an immediate U-turn. "Couldn't agree more," she added as they both waved at the two young men standing in front of their flat.

"Now, spill it. What's going on between you and Rob, my dear? We have a long drive ahead of us, and I expect to be entertained for my trouble," Annie teased, eager to change the topic.

Jane groaned. "Oh, Annie, what am I going to do?" she whined, and they proceeded to dissect every aspect of her complicated relationship with her ex-boyfriend for the entire way home.

*

April 1, 1994

Dear George (& Fred),

Happy birthday! It's been a warm spring here, and the rue is budding early, so I should have another parcel for you soon.

Meanwhile, please enjoy your gifts. I found them while shopping this spring with Jane. Don't be put off by the insulting title of the economics book: the bookshop clerk highly recommended it. He also gave the entrepreneurism one a glowing review, and he owns his own shop, so there you go. I realize I might be putting our friendship in jeopardy by sending you books for your birthday presents, but I'm hoping the usefulness and warm sentiment behind them outweigh the revulsion you have to reading. Fingers crossed that you'll give them a go....

Other than studying, track practice and meets, and working, I do little else but sleep and eat. Have you two started studying at all?

The Canary Creams were absolutely a riot! They promise to be a raging success, I'm sure. Do the elves make the biscuits for you, or do you have to buy them before enchanting them?

Oh, and congrats on the win.

Love you more,

Annie

*

April 15, 1994

Dear Annie,

I cannot believe I am writing this, and will deny it until my dying day if you ever repeat it, but... thank you for the books. They are very illuminating. Aside from being a bit dry (nothing blows up in them, does it?) they promise to be dead useful.

In fact, these venerable tomes led Fred and me to have a serious heart-to-heart discussion about our futures. We have come to the conclusion that we are destined to forge our own path in the world, independent of school or ministry or employer of any sort. The siren song of profitable enterprise is ringing in our ears, drowning out any argument to the contrary.

Therefore, we are making strategic plans regarding our upcoming OWLs. There are certain courses which we recognize will behoove us to continue over the next two years. However, that is nowhere near the majority of what we are currently saddled with. Ergo, we will be taking pains to ensure we will not be in any position to continue any of said unnecessary courses of study, regardless of what our professors and/or MUM thinks to the contrary.

So... we are planning to fail a minimum of six OWLs each. That should ensure sufficient unoccupied time over our remaining sentence - er - years here at Hogwarts to devote to product development and marketing strategies.

Now if we can just come into some money, we'd be set. I'm curious to know what you think of our plan. Write back soon and tell us.

Love,

George (& Fred)

P.S. Tomorrow is our final match - against Slytherin. Promises to be a bloodbath.

*

May 1, 1994

Dear George (& Fred),

Well... I say more power to you! If I knew for sure how I wanted to spend my life at this point, I'd like to think I'd have the balls to go for it, everyone else be damned. Kudos to you both for figuring out your calling, and sticking to your guns. You'll be brilliant at it as well, of course.

Are you really sure you have to fail six OWLs? Why not five? Or four? How arbitrary is that number? If you only have three courses each for NEWT studies, you'll barely go to class once a day! Which I realize is not a persuasive argument for you, but still. Have you considered you might get a bit bored with nothing to do all day? I guess I'm presuming you will attend class at all.... Whatever - I trust your judgment.

This year has been exhausting and soul-crushingly boring. I need a holiday. Promise me we'll go back to the beach after these (insert string of rude epithets here) exams are over with.

Looking forward to hearing all about your match....

Love you more,

Annie

*

May 10, 1994

Dear Annie,

Thanks for your glowing support. I knew we could count on you to understand. I promise you'll always have a position with us to fall back on! We'll keep you off the streets! Hopefully that takes a bit of the pressure off you before your exams.

On to the match: it was bloody brilliant of course. The Slytherins never knew what hit them (every bludger I could put a bat on, that's what!). We beat them by 110 points, and clinched the Cup! We're all heroes, and not just in Gryffindor - everyone in the whole school is thrilled that Slytherin has been beaten at last! The reign of darkness is over!

As for the courses, only four are worth pursuing: Defense Against the Dark Arts (for obvious reasons), Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology. Now, we figure we both need DADA, and Charms is just plain fun. But we reckon only one of us needs either of the other two - we'll divide the workload between us. Astronomy, Muggle Studies and History of Magic are utterly useless. Care of Magical Creatures - well, just about anything you need to know can be found in about three or four books, so why waste time in class? And Potions, while admittedly crucial to our business plans, we are failing on principle. There is no way Snape will give us the required O grade for us to continue to NEWT, no matter how well we do on the exam, so what's the point? We're boycotting that exam in its entirety.

Believe it or not, I'm going to sign off in order to do a bit of studying. I'll understand if you're not able to write back before we see you after term's over. If we don't hear from you, good luck!

Love,

George (& Fred)

*

May 25, 1994

Dear George (& Fred),

Just a quick note to say hello. And thanks for the job offer. It's the best one I've gotten so far. Congrats on winning the Cup! That's fantastic news! And good luck to the both of you... though I strongly doubt you'll need luck to do well on the OWLs you've chosen to take seriously. You're far too clever for your own good, you know. You'd be ace students if you ever decided to apply yourselves in that direction (not that I'm in any way endorsing that lifestyle - ugh). But since some of us still need to study....

Love you more,

Annie

P.S. I have a big surprise for you both when you get home!!

*

June 8, 1994

Dear Annie,

We like surprises... hope it's a good one! Meet us on the 19^th at our usual spot, and bring a snack.

Love,

George (& Fred)

*Lyrics from "Over the Hills and Far Away" by Led Zeppelin