Spending the summer at Number Twelve, Gimmauld Place, was turning out to be much less fun than I had anticipated. Although I was with the Weasleys – who could be bored with that gaggle of redheads? – summer was inching by, and I was finding myself looking forward to school more and more with each coming day. While there was entertaining dinner conversation and the twins were always cracking a joke to try and liven the place up, there was no avoiding the fact that we were spending the summer holiday cleaning a huge mansion from top to bottom. And not getting paid a single knut.

The twins were the only ones keeping me sane. The adults were all too caught up in their Serious Adult Business that was Too Secretive For Us Children, and Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were too focused on Harry to pay anyone else much attention. But the twins and I had been friends for six years now, and they wouldn't leave me to wallow in the boredom. At least not alone.

We had met in our first year. We were all sorted into Gryffindor. I wasn't the loudest witch ever, and didn't attract much attention, but they attracted enough attention to make up for my lack of. They didn't notice me first; I noticed them. And how could I not? It's very hard not to notice two boys pranking everyone that they could get their hands on.

They didn't prank me until mid-February. It had been a bad day. I had just received a D on my Transfiguration paper, and Professor McGonagall had given me a detention for such a low grade. As I had walked into the common room, several Dungbombs went off inches away from me. I looked up to see Fred and George trying to bite back laughs. Their hands were completely filthy. So I did the mature, adult thing. I turned around and ran, finding an empty classroom to cry in.

They found me almost instantly. George poked his head through the door first, then slowly entered, as if he was afraid that any sudden movements would make me attack. Or worse, cling to him and cry. Fred followed him in, just as cautiously, though I caught him quickly putting a piece of parchment into his pocket. The three of us just looked at each other for a few seconds until I broke the silence with a very ladylike inhale of snot. Then they apologized quickly and spent the next ten minutes trying to make me laugh. I have to admit, they're very good at cheering people up. After that, I began to eat meals with them, and then we began to work together in our classes, and soon we were quite good friends.

So when they invited me to spend the summer with them, I was thrilled. What could be more fun than spending the entire summer break with Fred and George? I had asked myself. It will be so much fun, especially with Matthew going to Transylvania for work, I had said. I had envisioned a fun-filled summer spent exploring an old house with the twins, watching them work on new products as I lay lazily nearby, and then eating a delicious feast the Mrs. Weasley had prepared for us.

But instead, here we were removing doxies from the curtains while that horrible Black woman shrieked about Mudbloods and blood-traitors and half-breeds. It was at the point where I was looking forward to going back to my room and studying. I felt guilty just thinking that. Maybe I'd just write Matthew instead.

I should explain. Matthew is my older brother. I'm a few weeks shy of seventeen, and he's almost twenty-four. I enjoy teasing him about being so old that he needs dentures. But he's in Transylvania right now. He's a Healer, and is currently looking for some rare plant that's only found near vampires that could cure some mundane illness. And since I live with him, he thought it would be a wonderful idea for me to stay with the Weasleys over the break. I don't know why he wouldn't trust a sixteen-year-old girl to have an entire house to herself for the entire summer break. Especially when said girl has such great influences such as Fred and George in her life. Go figure. I do miss him, though. Me being at Hogwarts for most of the year means we don't get sick of each other and fight all of the time like a lot of siblings do, so we get along rather well. We try to write at least once a week when I'm at school, but I've been so bored lately that I've written him daily. The letters don't actually get sent, of course, because there's nothing good to say. We cleaned out doxies today. Didn't get bit. Mrs. Weasley made some wonderful sandwiches for lunch. Also, I decided to paint my nails a daring hot pink. He loves me, I know he does, but I don't think he'd appreciate getting such boring letters. So I've taken it upon myself to stretch the truth a bit in the letters. Make it seem like I'm having fun, and all that jazz.

But when I saw Fred pocket a doxy, I knew that there would be something interesting happening tonight. Whenever I see one of the twins with That Look on their face, I know that they're going to be trying to make new products. Their current project is Skiving Snackboxes, which I find utterly brilliant. Even if I never use it for skipping class, I think it would be wonderful to be able to vomit on Malfoy. It would really de-stress me during NEWTs. And while I'm not an inventor like Fred or George (or a tester, not after last time), I like lounging on the bed as they sit on the floor and try to make new products. There's usually a steady stream of conversation, and there's always a chance that something will blow up and one or both of the twins will wind up without eyebrows.

And I was right: after dinner, Mrs. Weasley sent us all to our allotted rooms, and after she checked on all of us, I Apparated out of the room I was sharing with Ginny and Hermione and into the twins' room to find them on the floor with a couple of unconscious doxies and some other strange products. They greeted me with a "Shh!" and I took my place on one of the beds, leaning against the headboard as the boys resumed their testing on the floor.

"You know, if something explodes, your mom is going to be pissed," I whispered over to them.

A mop of red hair popped up over the footboard. Upon further investigation, I decided it was Fred; he crinkled his nose a bit more than George when his face was contorted into an annoyed expression. "We're not doing anything that could make an explosion right now, Mom. Chill out."

I smiled and rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry for being concerned about you two. Last time I do that."

"See that it is," George bantered back quietly, though he kept his eyes on the doxies.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, I sat up to watch the twins. "What Snackbox will those be used for?"

Fred gave a shrug. "We're not quite sure yet. We planned on making it, then seeing what it does to us."

I used to get really worried when they would say something like that. It sounds stupid and horribly reckless. But that's just how they are. And they have yet to be killed. And I'll admit, nothing makes you study a couple of healing spells quicker than having two best friends who might just do something deadly to get a chuckle.

I watched them for another hour or so until I decided it was time to sleep. So I slid off of the bed and wished them both a goodnight before sneaking out the door, across the hall, and into my room. My first day here, I learned not to Apparate into a room with a sleeping Ginny. Hermione sleeps like a rock, but Ginny is a light sleeper and has a tendency to try and jinx anything that wakes her up and sounds like a threat. I think we're all a bit more on edge since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back.

I fell asleep quickly, my dreams filled with chaos and confusion.