A.N.: I'm baaaaack! I know, it's all very exciting. I apologize to all for the delay. Summer is really not the best time to be creative, and I finally got my 'net in Ottawa (today!) which is absolutely fantastic. Welcome new and old to the story of Adamina Champlain! This story follows the course of The Goblet of Fire, and is the sequel to the fanfic Don't Lose Control. Big huge thanks to JO, the most wonderful and supportive friend and beta.

Disclaimer: The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted on this website are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. But, as usual, the plotline is entirely mine.

Before you get your hopes up, I never meant to write to you again. I'll admit my last letter was a little over-the-top, but if you remember the date... well, then you'd understand, if you remember anything at all.

Seeing as I didn't get that last letter back, I figured I'd keep writing. Who knows? Maybe I'm finally getting through to you. As the Muggles say, alleluia!

Anyway, I'm cutting things short for now. I've just spent an hour opening up to a therapist and I'm done talking about my life and 'how I feel about that'. Once you're done reading, you reply to my letter.

Just in case you needed reminding.

My third year at Hogwarts over, I learned fairly bad news as soon as I sat in my parents' Muggle car. My grandmother was on her way to England to get guardianship. Yippee. I got home, unpacked and plopped on my bed. Mom and Dad interrupted my sulking.

"Pack up, pumpkin, our plane leaves at dawn," grinned Dad, hiding something behind his back.

I sat up, staring at them. "What?"

"We're going to France. Pack your essentials then come down for supper," answered Mom excitedly. Dad showed me three long envelopes containing plane tickets.

I spent two weeks with my parents visiting the south of France.

As soon as we returned to London, a Ministry owl from the Welfare for Young Witches and Wizards flew into our kitchen window. It was to inform us our examination was to begin the next day at noon. For the first three days of examination, I had to be out of the house. Mom ushered me into my room to unpack while Dad and her made arrangements for me. I put my things away haphazardly and hurried back downstairs.

"You're going to the Burrow tomorrow morning," Dad said, rubbing his eyes. I nodded.

"Don't leave anything until the last minute, pumpkin," said Mom, running her fingers through my dirty blond hair. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply to calm myself.

"Don't you dare," he warned.

"Especially since we weren't prepared," Mom said sternly. "You know better now, thanks to Remus."

I grinned sheepishly at them. About three days into our vacation, Professor Lupin - or, well, he wanted me to call him Remus, but it felt so weird - sent me a rather large tome on the Connection. He hadn't written much in his letter; just that he thought I would like it and that he hoped I would stay out of trouble. As if. I could practically hear his amused voice jumping off of the paper.

The book, a thick black leather book with yellowed pages, went into detailed descriptions of what a Connector looks like (I was happy to note I didn't have grey skin and large poisonous tusks) and how Connectors first came to be (with gruesome pictures). Those two chapters were pretty much bogus, if not a bit creepy. But the rest was very useful and interesting. Included was a short Connectors history, which agreed with everything Alcina had ever told me, and the information on how to become one, which I skipped. What was the point? I had thought. I'm already a Connector.

The best part, however, was the one on how to control yourself if you became a Connector. It spoke of 'becoming devoid of all emotions before diving into the unknown recesses of other human spirits and feelings' and mentioned something called Occlumency, which I didn't really understand. It added that to have full access into someone else's emotions, the other person had to be unsuspecting and/or open to intrusion.

Somewhere in between all that was a small section on Connecting with animals: "While it is considered impossible, Connectors with decades of practice or a natural destructive instinct will be able to get a general sense of animal feelings such as fear or hostility". Hermione was positive that it was because of this that I couldn't feel Peter's guilt while he was in rat-form, even if I assured her I had a few times, but fleetingly.

Anyway, that book became my favourite, if only, go-to reference guide for anything related to the Connection. My, uh, unusual gift had remained almost completely dormant since that day with the whole Sirius-is-innocent drama.

I owled Professor Remus -baby steps and I'll get to just 'Remus'- to thank him, but I wasn't graced with a reply. I wondered idly what he was up to since he left Hogwarts. I asked Mom about him during supper while Dad was out running errands.

"There's a lot to tell about Remus," she said, smiling. "He was one of my best friends. Lily and him were both the first to introduce themselves when I arrived at Hogwarts. He showed me the library," she laughed. "We studied there a lot."

"Why the library?"

"I was a Ravenclaw, pumpkin, and he was a Gryffindor."

"Oh. Did you know he was a werewolf when you were in Hogwarts?" I questioned, eating the last of my lasagna.

She bit her lip, tapping her fork on the table. "Yes," she said softly. "Lily knew too, of course. Anyone could figure it out if they paid attention." She sighed. "I never told him I knew, but I always gave him a chocolate bar the day he came back from 'visiting his sick mother'."

"Why chocolate? Because he likes it?"

"He didn't like it," she smiled, flicking her wand to send the dishes into the sink where they began to wash themselves. "Chocolate helps regain strength; being a werewolf is draining, Mina. He grew to love it, I think, since he began leaving notes saying which kind of chocolate he'd like that month."

I took out my wand and tried to remember the spell to put away dishes. Mom saw me and screamed. "What do you think you're doing?! You're going to break them!"

"Gee, Mom, thanks for the vote of confidence," I grimaced.

She sent me a pointed look over her shoulder as she put them away with a graceful flick of her wand. "You know you're not allowed to do magic."

"What the Ministry doesn't know won't hurt them."

"Mina!" she said, appalled.

"What? It's true!"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't you have homework to do?"

"Mom, summer just started! I still have a month and a half for homework," I protested.

"Yes, but you're going to the Burrow for the next few days, and then you want to go to Hermione's house, and there's the Quidditch World Cup your father mentioned-"

"Look, Mom, I'll have plenty of time in between," I argued. "Besides, Dad said I could listen to the Wireless with him tonight when he gets home."

"Well, go do it now so it's done when he comes back," she replied curtly, "or no Wireless tonight."

Grumbling, I went upstairs to my room. Bobby, our house-elf, was making my bed. "Hey, Bobs," I greeted. Bobby wasn't a very young house-elf but he was very efficient. Dad inherited him when his father died. Bobby normally stayed with Mom around the shop during the day. She taught him how to knit. At first he was reluctant. Terrified, actually. He thought Mom was trying to trick him into getting clothes. She kindly explained to him that his tattered clothing disgusted her and that if he made the clothes himself, he wouldn't be freed. They got along super well after that.

"Hello, miss," he said in his squeaky voice. "I'm is betting it's homework time."

"What makes you say that?"

"From the look on miss's face. And because I can hear very good," he chuckled. Unlike most house-elves, Bobby had a pretty good grasp of basic grammar. Dad spent endless nights when he was young teaching him to speak properly. "Will I be sneaking pumpkin cookies for miss as brain food tonight?"

"Nah, but thanks anyway. Dad's bringing back some ice cream," I replied. "Did you have the time to wash my purple summer cloak?"

"Yes, miss, I did wash your little purple cloak. It is ready for you leaving to go see the bunnies."

"The bunnies?"

"Yes, yes, miss, at the Burrow," he nodded and I laughed so hard I cried, imagining the Weasleys with bunny ears and hopping around. "Is miss sure she doesn't wish brain food?" he asked, puzzled.

"No," I wheezed. "Bobs, you're such a laugh."

"Actually, miss, I'm is a house-elf," he replied in all seriousness, shutting the door on my hysterical laughter.

I ended up not doing much homework. I did finish the Potions homework in record time. However, I figured if I did some homework, Mom would let me use the Muggle phoning thing to talk to Hermione about sleeping over at her house next week. I wrote to Harry for the third time this summer; I worried about him, alone at the Dursleys'. He never wrote much, just enough to let me know he was doing alright despite the load of chores he had to do. I didn't bother writing to Ron as I was going to the Burrow the next day.

Stretching in my desk chair, I dropped my quill and looked out the window. The sun was setting and Dad still wasn't back. I frowned, wondering where he went. I had just gotten up to ask Mom when he would come home when I heard the front door slam shut. I raced down the stairs and saw him whispering quietly with Mom, who hurried into the kitchen. I hugged him.

"Hey Dad!" I laughed. "Took you long enough."

"Hey, pumpkin," he said, resting his chin on top of my head. "Have you finished your homework?"

"I did the Potions homework and started Charms, but I'm gonna need Hermione's help on it," I replied, exaggerating a little.

He seemed pleased. "Good. Help me bring the groceries to the kitchen and we'll get settled. They're airing a Wizengamot meeting tonight."

I groaned. "Dad, politics are so boring! Don't they have something about Gobstones?"

"Mina, it's very important for you to become aware of what's going on in the Wizarding World, do you understand?" he said chidingly. He relaxed when he noticed my disappointment. "If it gets too boring, we'll switch to that Quidditch program you love."

Grinning, I took the plastic bags from his hands and hurried to the kitchen.

I scooped some more ice cream into my bowl, ignoring Mom's pointed look in my direction. She hadn't listened to the Wireless with us, claiming to be behind in her bookkeeping for the shop. "So basically, Dumbledore was trying to get Fudge, our Minister for Magic, to relax his werewolf standards," I said.

"Exactly," nodded Dad. "I think you know why Dumbledore wants that."

"For Remus?"

Mom clanged her spoon on her bowl. "Really, Mina, it's Professor Lupin," she admonished.

"No, it's Remus," I said stubbornly. "He asked me to call him Remus."

Mom groaned loudly. "Adrian, say something!"

"Why? If that's what he wants, so be it," he shrugged, winking at me. He spooned some ice cream into his mouth, glancing at Mom. "And it's not just for Remus, but for all werewolves. Dumbledore is worried about someone, who is very close to Fudge, gaining too much influence."

"Who?"

Mom glared at Dad, who hesitated before answering. "Dolores Umbridge." Mom dropped her head in her hands.

"She was that high voice wasn't she? The one who made me fall asleep because of all those long ridiculous words and all." I tried to remember where I had heard that name. "Remus doesn't like her," I said slowly, remembering what he said to me.

Mom laughed bitterly. "Who would? She's the reason he can't find work anywhere."

"What?" I asked, dumbstruck.

She stood abruptly and gathered the empty ice cream bowls with shaking hands. "Dolores Umbridge," she began, heading towards the sink, her voice strained, "is a foul wench - don't use that word, Mina - who is convinced that 'pure' is the only way for magic folk. She hates 'Dark creatures', like Remus, and half-giants like Hagrid all because their blood isn't considered pure and now she wants to-"

She let out a strangled sob, dropping the bowls into the sink. They clanged loudly, some possibly broken. Dad joined Mom near the sink and wrapped his arms around her. "Shh," he whispered.

Confused and worried, I stood as well. "What's wrong, Mom?" I asked. Tears leaked from her closed eyes as she pulled me in a tight hug. She sobbed in my hair. "Dad?"

Pressing his cheek against her hair, Dad sighed, looking at the ceiling. "Dolores Umbridge not only passed laws against werewolves and half-breeds, as she calls them, but she began a law-project for you to be kept under lock-and-key for Ministry examination."

I stared at him. "What?!?"

Mom's body trembled harder. "It-it's all v-very hushed, but Dumbledore-"

"Dumbledore could be wrong, Talia," said Dad soothingly.

"B-but when is D-Dumbledore ever wrong?" she pointed out.

"I don't think it will pass if the examination with the Welfare department goes well."

I trembled and hugged them fearfully. "I don't want to be locked away, Dad."

"And you won't be. I promise."

I didn't sleep very well that night.

My eyes snapped open. Panting loudly, I wiped my hair off my sweaty forehead.

"You alright?" asked a mop of sleep-tousled red hair.

I had arrived at the Burrow early yesterday morning. Apparently, Ginny was at the Lovegoods' house for the week. I had her room to myself, but it freaked me out. Nightmares haunted my sleep and my Silencing spells were useless. Thankfully, only Mrs. Weasley woke up. "Call it mother's intuition," she had said. She gave me a Dreamless potion despite my protests, but before sleep took me by force, I had refused to sleep by myself the next day. She said she'd figure something out. By lunchtime, she had a solution: building a tent in the living room where Ron and I could sleep together. But not like that, perverts!

I shook my head to clear it, focussing my blurry vision. "Yeah, I think so." I finally saw that the mop of red hair belonged to George, his face as white as a sheet. There was an uneasy squirming around my gut area that fervently wished it had been Ron. Ron knew I had nightmares. George didn't and I wanted to keep it that way. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

"You were moving around a lot."

"That doesn't answer my question."

He chuckled quietly. "You did, but don't worry about it."

I shifted, looking for my teddy bear. "I didn't... scream or anything?"

"No, why? Do you normally scream?" he asked. I hesitated to respond. He nudged me gently. "Come on, you can tell good ol' Georgie anything you want and he won't say a word."

"Sometimes," I conceded, reaching over Ron, who slept on my other side, for my teddy. I hugged him to my chest. The teddy, that is. "Rarely, but it has happened before. Once at Hogwarts; you should have seen Lavender's face. Hermione makes sure to put a Silencing spell now. She's the only that can do it. I'm useless with it. I tried, so she wouldn't have to worry, you know? But no matter how hard I practice... I'm simply useless with Silencing spells."

He rested his head on his elbows, lazily blowing his long bangs away from his eyes. My heart fluttered. "What do you dream about when you scream?"

I looked up at the make-shift ceiling made of Chudley Cannons' sheets. I remembered bits and pieces of my nightmares. Ron, Harry and Hermione all knew about it. Harry always understood best. "Death, mostly," I admitted softly. "My parents and friends dying. The Connection in general isn't filled with good memories. I learned a lot this year. Now, I just have to use it properly." I exhaled loudly. "Then there's my grandmother. She's there sometimes. Those are the worst."

"I'd have thought the Connection ones would be worse."

"It's 'cause I don't know what to expect. Fear of the unknown, I guess."

He nodded slowly. "Was she what your dream was about?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." There was nothing more to say, really. "What's she like?"

"My grandma? Never met her. I saw her picture once, before Dad found it and burned it. She didn't look very evil. But then, what do I know? Sometimes I wonder, if she was so evil, how come my grandfather married her?"

"Love potion?"

"I don't know. I don't think so. Dad won't talk about them, but my aunt Andrea does. She doubts my grandfather's devotion to his wife was the product of a potion; she would know. She was forced into a pureblooded marriage by one." I sighed deeply. "I wish I could have met him. He died around the time I was born."

"Mum won't talk about her brothers, or how they died. Fred and I were named after them, you know."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Well, our middle names anyway. I'm George Gideon and he's Frederick Fabian."

"Good strong names."

"I wish I could have met them, too. Sometimes Mum will say something about how much we remind her of them. But then her smile disappears and she won't say another word."

Neither of us said anything, lost in thought. I sighed to fill the silence. In truth, I liked the Burrow this quiet. It was so different from daytime; I could actually hear myself think.

I had insisted we make the tent the Muggle way, like Dad and I used to do while Mom was at the shop. Big enough for more than just Ron and I, Mrs. Weasley suggested, in a tone that was more of an order, that the twins sleep with us as well. Charlie, who was visiting from Romania, had winked at Ron. "Me thinks she's wanting to watch the two of you," the dragon-tamer snickered. Ron fumed but said nothing.

So the twins ended up joining us, which meant we were pretty loud down here, playing games and singing campfire songs (without the campfire, despite Fred and George's efforts. I told them about Hermione's talents with Bluebell flames). Eventually, Mrs. Weasley came down, rollers in her hair, dragging a sleepy Charlie behind her. She accioed his pillow and blankets and ordered him to keep an eye on us. "I don't see why," he said sleepily, his 'why' stretched by a yawn. "I could just put a Silencio around the living room, y'know."

Mrs. Weasley went livid. "Magic isn't the solution to everything, Charles Weasley! These children need to sleep!"

At which, we protested loudly. "We're not children!"

She silenced us with a single look before rounding back on Charlie. "Do you remember why you're here in the first place? This isn't a vacation!"

"Mum, I know why I'm here, but I didn't think it'd be a twenty-four hour watch job!"

Needless to say, we ended up being five instead of two in the living room tent. Charlie snored and Ron slept sprawled on his stomach. Fred was curled up in his blankets, sleeping soundly. Probably the only time he's ever quiet, I thought, amused. George was awake. I briefly wondered how he slept and if I'd ever find out. I pushed that thought out of my mind because it led to... Blushing, I concentrated on the ticking of the Weasley clock. Tic, toc, tic, toc...

George brought his hands behind his head and yawned. "Can I ask you something?"

"You have my undivided attention, George," I said, smiling.

He didn't say anything. A few seconds slipped by and I wondered if he would say anything at all. I turned on my side to face him just as he spoke. "Well, I... I've got this question. You might think it's ridiculous, but I'm curious and it's been eating my insides for a while." His voice was so different than in daytime, soft, as if afraid to speak. No trace of rowdy laughter or savage jokes could be heard. I couldn't decide if I liked his voice better this way."Fred said I shouldn't ask." He paused and glanced at me. "'Course normally I'd listen to Fred, but I don't think he understood. I just... need to know, y'know?"

My heart beat sped up. No, scratch that, it was doing perfectly executed Wronski Feints, over and over again. I nodded, swallowing with difficulty. "Curiosity can be a pain in the ass."

He chuckled. "That it can. And for us Weasleys, it's especially hard to deny ourselves the chance to pry." He looked at me, eyes twinkling. "Besides, I bet that right now, I've got you dying to know what I want to ask you."

"Stop stalling and get on with it!"

He rubbed his neck awkwardly. "Well, what's the Connection like? For you, I mean."

I stared at him, my heart sinking to my stomach. I layed back down on my back, linking my fingers together over my stomach, my teddy bear tucked under my left arm. I didn't know why I was so disappointed; it's not like I had expected any actual romantic declarations. Besides, I wasn't even sure I wanted them like this, in a tent full of his brothers. Or that I want them at all, because, you know, it'd be weird, 'cause of Ron, who's my friend and all. Yeah, that's it. It'd be too weird.

I could feel his stare on the side of my head. I swallowed hard and began to answer his question. "It's -"

"That's okay," he interrupted. "You don't have to answer, forget I asked." He turned away from me but I stopped him.

"No! No, it's alright," I breathed. "I just... I wasn't expecting-"I smiled nervously. I propped myself up on my elbow again, looking down at him. "No one's ever asked me that. To me... it's like a sixth sense, really, except I have to concentrate to use it. Like, when you squint to see the Snitch during a Quidditch game. Damn near impossible for everyone, but for a Seeker, it's kinda easy."

"How so?" he inquired. His dark blue eyes sparkled intensely. I sat up and crossed my legs, placing my teddy bear on my lap. He sat up as well, facing me, clearly amused.

"Well, if you're smiling, people can tell you're happy, right? It's basic common sense. As a Connector, I can go further and see if you're hiding some major depression issues behind that smile," I explained, "or if you really are happy. There's no hiding from me if I really want to know how you feel."

"Oooh. Sounds simple enough. So how do you do it?"

"Uh, good question. It's kinda like... uh, imagine- you're sitting in a room, reading or playing chess, and you hear someone coming and without looking up, just from the sounds that someone makes, you know who it is because of their signature sound; how they shuffle their feet, the speed they walk at. I can tell if someone -and who- is trying to sneak up on me."

"That's why we haven't been able to prank you lately," he laughed.

"Damn right," I grinned, proud of myself. "Anyway, that's probably the best way to explain it," I said. "Lupin used to tell me that if I practised, I could do it like that." I snapped my fingers. "He sent me a book on it this summer. Dead useful thing. I did it once, in Dumbledore's office. I was sitting in his office and he told me to calm down and concentrate on my mom. When I closed my eyes it was like I was there, in the living room, sitting right next to her!" I grinned, reminiscing about the first time I really Connected with Mom. "He said I wouldn't be able to Connect like that from such a distance with anyone else."

"Why not?"

"Well, the Connection is feelings, right? Emotions, that sort of thing. My mom gave birth to me and I guess that creates a unique emotional link between her and me. Am I making sense?"

"Yeah, of course you are. I'm just trying to understand it correctly."

"Take your time. It took me a while."

"Come on then, let's have a go."

"What?"

"You heard me. Get inside my head or whatever. Do your thing."

"Uh, no thanks," I said quickly.

"Why not?"

"I haven't really had a chance to practice much," I said vaguely.

"It's the perfect opportunity! I'm a willing test subject!"

"I'd rather try when I'm fully awake."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"It's not fun!" I said angrily. "There is no 'fun' with the Connection! Do you even know all the things that could go wrong if I tried to Connect with you right now, what with me not being ready for it?"

He rolled his eyes. "Mina..."

"I could kill you, George," I hissed. "I could make you so depressed you'd lose your will to live. I could make you relive the worse memories of your life until you decide to end it to stop your misery."

That shut him up. "You couldn't," he choked. "You wouldn't."

"I could if I lost control."

"Merlin." He swallowed hard. "Sorry, Mina."

"It's okay," I whispered, looking away. "I... I'm just not ready to try again. I've been sort of practicing with my parents, but I always chicken out. Last time... I wasn't prepared, and Ron... didn't appreciate the intrusion."

"Ron? He probably blew a fuse, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he did and he was right too."

"I'm really, really sorry," he said, running his fingers through my hair.

I panicked. My heart pumped faster and blood rushed to my face.

"I don't get it," he muttered, playing with a strand of hair.

"Don't get what?" I whispered, staring at his blue eyes.

"Your hair," he said. "It's always changing. And your eyes too, sometimes they change colour."

I shrugged. "It's only showed itself recently. Mom says," my cheeks heated, "that it's because of..." I took a deep breath. "Because of puberty," I whispered, my cheeks ablaze.

George fought not to laugh, he really did, but we both knew it was a losing battle. "Puberty, eh?"

I rolled my eyes, my face on fire. "Yes."

Again, he tried keeping a serious face. He failed miserably and his mischievous grin appeared. "Any other unforeseen side effects?"

I glared at him and he guffawed loudly. We both slipped back under our blankets, laying on our backs.

I felt very sleepy. I lazily turned on my side to face George, who turned his head to face me. I poked his side and he poked my nose. I yawned and tucked my teddy safely in my arms. "Thanks for talking with me, George."

He smiled softly. "S'not a problem. G'night, Mina."

"'Night, George."

"I can't thank you enough for this."

"Nonsense, think nothing of it. She seems to be enjoying herself, Adrian."

I opened my eyes. Dad's here! Maybe I'll be able to go home early! I thought excitedly. Just as I went to stand, Ron stopped me and raised a finger to his lips.

"You're not going home until tomorrow as planned," he whispered. "Your dad's just here to make sure you're doing okay."

I grimaced then nodded to show I understood.

"She's a strong girl, Mr. Champlain. I'm here to help watch over her."

I heard my dad sigh loudly. He sounded so tired. "I just want this thing to be over with. We'll be here tomorrow morning to pick her up."

The kitchen chairs were pushed back with loud scraping noises. The twins stirred behind me. "Mr. Champlain," said Charlie, sounding hesitant, "I was wondering if Mina has nightmares often."

There was a long silence before Dad sighed again. "More often than you could possibly know, and I'm afraid it will only get worse, even though she assures me they're going away. She refuses to take potions to make them stop. Why do you ask?"

"Well, she had one last night and it seemed to be troubling her."

I sucked in a breath. Had Charlie been awake during my entire conversation with George? I had said some things I didn't want him, or many other people, to know.

"She had one the night before as well, Adrian, but I gave her a Dreamless potion that time," admitted Mrs. Weasley.

"Was she loud?"

"I'm not too sure. I was half-asleep myself. She was breathing heavily, tossing and turning. She mumbled a bit, but I couldn't understand. She smacked George in the face by accident and he woke her. I went back to sleep when he managed to calm her down."

"Damn," swore my father. "As if my mother coming into the damn picture to take her away wasn't enough, we told her about Dolores Umbridge before she left."

The kitchen fell silent. "Let me walk you out, Adrian," said Mr. Weasley quietly. "You can't be away too long during an examination."

Scuffling could be heard as Dad and Mr. Weasley left. Charlie and Mrs. Weasley remained in the kitchen and soon enough, the smell of coffee wafted into the living room.

I looked at Ron. He looked at me. "Another one?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Of the evil Grandma variety?"

"Yeah."

"I think pancakes are in order."

"I'm with you on that one. I'll wake up the twins, you go ask your mom. Remember to be nice!"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm always nice," he grinned. I snorted. He stretched and crawled out of our make-shift tent.

I shook the twins forcefully. "Wha-?" was all that came out of Fred's mouth before it widened in a yawn. George didn't even move.

"C'mon, you two! Breakfast!"

Fred stretched and nudged his brother. Sighing, he leaned over.

"George!" he exclaimed in his ear.

His reaction wasn't as I expected. In fact, he hardly moved at all. "Well then," I smirked, "looks like you overestimated your waking-others skills, Fred. Anyway, breakfast should be ready soon."

"You can try waking him up. He sleeps like a rock," he said, scratching his back.

"Doubt that. He woke up last night after I slapped him in the face."

"That would do the trick. Cross your fingers for pancakes!" Fred left and I heard him whoop loudly from the kitchen.

I watched his twin as he slept and no, it wasn't in the creepy-stalker kinda way. I decided on a different tactic. I shoved him forcefully. When he didn't move, I shoved him again. He rolled over, looked me in the eye and shoved me back. He rolled back to his original position. I poked him with my index finger. Hard. "Stop that, Mina. I need my beauty sleep," he muttered.

"No amount of beauty sleep will fix the monstrosity you call your face," I laughed. I shoved him again. "Come on! Wake up, sleepy head!"

"No."

"Yes," I said loudly, accompanied by another shove.

"No."

"Yes."

"Fine," he groaned. I clapped my hands happily as he sat up. "Are you happy now?"

"Very," I nodded. "Now for pancakes! We'd better hurry or your brothers will have eaten our share."

"Pancakes?! Why didn't you say so?" He threw the covers off and dragged me into the kitchen by the wrist. I sat down between Charlie and Fred, in front of Ron. Mr. Weasley walked in as his wife set a stack of delicious pancakes on my plate.

"Smells wonderful, Molly," he smiled, kissing her cheek.

"I haven't had pancakes in forever," I said happily, taking a bite. "C'est magnifique!" I exclaimed. Cheeks full of pancake, Ron eyed me over his plate and I shrugged.

"Your father is right to be proud of your French," mused Mr. Weasley from the head of the table, the Prophet in his hands. "You sound very fluent." I blushed at his praise.

"I'm not really all that good," I admitted. "I can understand it pretty well, say a couple basic things but that's pretty much it."

"You'll have to tell us all about your trip to France at dinner, dear," smiled the matriarch. "We've never been, but we took the children to Egypt last summer, did you know?"

"I did," I smiled.

"Anyway, Charlie will be taking you lot down to the river for a swim," she continued.

The Weasley children erupted in loud cheering and yeses. I, however, wasn't as enthusiastic. Model my body in a swimsuit? No thank you. My swimsuit, a dark blue one-piece, didn't leave much to the imagination, not that any swimsuit would. I wasn't comfortable with wearing a swimsuit in front of the Weasleys. None of them were fat, so they had nothing to worry about. There was also the small matter of my fear of deep water.

I squirmed in my seat. "Do we have to?" I asked.

The entire red-headed family stared at me like I had grown a second head."What?" asked Fred.

I squirmed some more, looking at the ceiling. I noticed many forks and knives stuck into the tiled ceiling. Another Weasley mystery to add to my list. "I thought that lake, just out there, would be fine, that's all," I lied.

"It's infested with Mackled Malaclaws and we can't seem to get rid of them," said Percy from the stairs. "Although if Ron hadn't fed them, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"It wasn't my fault!" said Ron angrily. "It was them!" He pointed to the twins.

"Enough, children. Eat your breakfast," said Mr. Weasley absentmindedly. "I always wondered how they got there in the first place. Malaclaws normally stick to sea areas."

Percy sat down next to George and helped himself to a generous amount of breakfast. "Good morning everyone," he said as an afterthought. A chorus of 'morning' greeted him.

Charlie leaned over towards me. "When they were 'bout six or seven, Fred and George thought it would be funny to get Ron to feed the Malaclaws every week. Every time Ron would try to feed them, they would bite him and give him a week of bad luck," he finished, laughing. Ron's face turned red next to me while the twins guffawed loudly.

Fred wiped a non-existent tear from his eye. "That was the most amazing month of my life, I think," he sighed.

"Too true, Fred, too true," agreed George.

"You'd think Ron would have learned by then not to listen to their immature suggestions," said Percy, sighing. Ron slumped in his seat and I suddenly understood why Ron thought so lowly of himself. I knew growing up with over-achieving older brothers couldn't have been easy, but apparently they were constantly putting it in his face. I glanced sympathetically at him and he simply shrugged it off. He didn't say another word for the rest of breakfast.

A.N. 2: I just wanted to tell everyone I had a really hard time thinking of a good title for this, but I did come up with a poem! It's called Title Problems;

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

I can't think of a title,

What about you?

In memory of a lazy October morning.