"You don't fool me George Weasley," My voice was stronger and clearer than I thought possible.

In the bustling new joke shop surrounded by children of all ages, teenagers, and some adults, my Hogwarts crush was hustling and haggling with my best friend over the price of a love potion. His name tag said 'Fred' but in a sea of people, even next to his identical twin, I could always pick out George Weasley.

Obsession has bad connotation, but, in only the way a teenage girl can, I had been obsessed with this red-headed, freckled, trouble maker since my 3rd year at Hogwarts. I was not invisible to him... But somehow I doubted he would know my name.

"I'm Fred," He said, turning from my best friend to me. If I wasn't mistaken he remembered me, his look clearly trying to place me. To be fair, the summer before my seventh year (this summer) is when my body decided to develop it's curves and more womanly features; my body was different, and my face had changed a little too.

I smirked casually and said, "No you're not. You're George." With a boldness I did not know I possessed the next words flew for my lips before I could stop them "You never forget your first Hogwarts crush." And then I winked at him.

I WINKED AT HIM?!

The sensible side of myself, inside of my head, screamed and shouted 'what the hell do you think you're doing?' and 'you will never have firewhiskey at the Leaky cauldron again before coming to shop!'

George just stood there staring at me. My best friend threw a galleon on the table, grabbed the potion, and left.

George took off the name tag, still appraising me with his evergreen eyes, and finally asked, "How can you tell the difference?"

I smiled coyly, leaned forward, stretched my arm across the counter and touched a particular dark raised freckle peeking out from the collar of his ostentatiously colored suit. "I spent hours in Advanced Alchemy staring at that spot...daydreaming really."

He swallowed hard. I was pleased that my bold behavior was getting the response I had yearned for all these years. However, my good sense were rapidly gaining ground again, and my courage fading. I was not a Gryffindor; I was Hufflepuff, and I needed to leave immediately. This was too good, too dreamy, to have it turn on me.

"It's a pity you're not in school this year..." My smirk faded to a sad sheepish smile. I leaned my whole body across the counter. He stood there frozen as I whispered in his ear, "All those dark corners you know about and me being head girl this year... Imagine how you could have corrupted me."

I pecked his cheek, turned quickly, and strolled out, trying to use my walk to make my hips and ass look their best.

I pulled on my best friends jacket to indicate I was leaving and walked right out the door.

I had taken three steps towards Flourish and Blotts, when a loud pop inches in front of me, took me out of my self-revelry, and I walked right into a recently apparated George.

"Just because I am not going back to repeat my seventh year doesn't mean I can't corrupt you, Justine." He said mischievously, putting a hand on my waist to steady me.

My face mocked surprise, though truly I was surprised. "You do remember me, I'm touched."

I didn't move away from him; I wanted to, and I didn't want to...

My left side pressed against him, and his arm held my waist. It was too intimate, too bittersweet, to back away.

"You never forget the first girl who successfully Stupifies you..." His smirk was confident and intoxicating. If I were loose of morals I would climb him here and now.

I couldn't let that happen. I was the first muggleborn Head Girl in 20 years and more ambitious than your average Hufflepuff.

He was from a pureblood wizarding family that went back centuries. Politics had such a hold of me that even my recently rampant teenage libido was muzzled...in public...for the moment.

I pushed away slowly. "Dumbledore's Army, last year... Why George, surely I couldn't be the first girl to out-wand you..."

His smile was jovially predatory. "Shop closes at 10. Let's reminisce, you can tell me more about our alchemy. I must have missed some things." He winked, every sentence saying one thing but possibly implying much more. "Two weeks until school starts, maybe we could both learn something before then."

"Ten?" I frown a bit. "I'll be in my flat in muggle London by then."

He looked honestly disappointed, "Your parents wouldn't want a wizard dropping by at those hours, I bet."

My smirk got bigger, "They are in New York until next Wednesday..." I skirted around him. "59 Britton street near St. George."

"In my neighborhood and everything..." He positively glowed walking back into his joke shop.

"Alright, George?" Fred called from across the shop.

George waggled his eyebrows and nodded emphatically. He was definitely alright, and he was looking forward to tonight.

At 9:30 he told Fred he was leaving early, and to not expect him home until late.

"Wha? With the Hufflepuff girl from this afternoon...?" Fred said giving his brother a once over. "She's fit and all, but what about Angelina? She'll kill you mate."

"Angelina is at quidditch camp in Ireland. Plus, she always liked you better, Gred." George's smile grew. "I'm just going to catch up with an old schoolmate."

_

After my trip to Diagon Alley, I will admit that I went a little crazy when I got home. My house was a wreck. My parents had been gone for a week already and Leena, our housekeeper, wasn't coming until tomorrow afternoon. Luckily I was no longer a minor and could use magic at home.

With a flick of my wrist I closed all the curtains & started many mini cleaning incantations. Putting my wand down only for a moment to whip my long black hair into a bun and begin thoroughly scouring my home of grossness and ANYTHING George Weasley could use to tease me. No fat baby cheeks covered in cake, no awkward 11 year old before boarding the Hogwarts Express, and no muggle stuff that could be embarrassing.

Had he ever been to a muggle home?

It had been several hours since I saw him but my pulse was still racing and my mind was racing in anticipation. I had to relax!

George Weasley would never want to kiss me if I was nervous and tittering like a first year!

I was Justine Bryn Barker; top of my class, and I was getting more comfortable with my newly developed body, and I was not inexperienced.

Last summer my parents sent me to a muggle summer camp in the States and I had my first real kiss, not just the after Yule Ball peck from Jordan Webber, fellow Hufflepuff that graduated last year.

This summer my first...everything else. Muggle boys were cute, and attentive, but no one had made me laugh like George.

Not one boy in London, New York, or even Camp Winapowee in Pennsylvania had me feel the way George did.

Like I had a fire inside of me tickling everywhere. Seeing him made me yearn for things I didn't even know I was yearning for until earlier this summer… when I felt Danny Depree's lips all over me.

Danny was older, wiser, pragmatic and sweet. We snuck away daily or multiple times a day he made me feel special and desired. We agreed we only had the summer and both of us wanted to…learn, or experiment, maybe a better word for it.

Danny helped me become more confident and seductive, which I guess would explain this afternoon.

I still wasn't too clear on how the confidence oozed out of me, or how and why, after 4 years, I could flirt with George Weasley like it was no big deal...but it was comforting somehow.

George Weasley was coming over…no big deal. I tried to convince myself, over and over.

I would just relax, read the latest trashy muggle novel I had and wait until 11pm. No later. I had standards!

But, maybe, just in case, I should do my hair, nails, and makeup- and definitely shave... everything.

Somewhere close to 10:30, I triple checked and scrutinized every part of myself. My hair was down, soft curls trailed down my back, my lips a dramatic oxblood red to draw attention to their fullness, and my eyes highlighted by eyeliner and mascara- I looked good.

I was wearing the dress my step-mother bought me recently; it was for my father's business dinners in New York & London. Simple, but nice, black satin with burgundy lace, it kind of looked like a Audrey Hepburn dress but less frilly.

At the beginning of the summer it fell flat on my body but now it was snugger. My hips had flared the skirt, by breast filled the bust and tapered the waist.

The simple sweet dress had, unbeknownst to my parents, become the sexiest thing I owned.

No matter how I chastised myself for being nervous, how I told myself to calm down, my heart still jumped at the knock at the door.

I looked in the mirror once more and told my reflection to calm the bloody hell down.