~*~
Chapter 2
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Disclaimer: Huh - you wouldn't recognize a good disclaimer if it were dancing naked in front of you, wearing Dobby's tea cozy! Er - it's not mine - none of it, I swear!! ^_^
~*~
"Wait – you've met?" Ginny said in surprise, looking back and forth between Fred and Eloise. The latter blushed – the former grinned widely.
"She was in a right state when she nearly mowed me down in Diagon Alley last week," Fred explained casually. "No harm done. We had a pleasant chat over ice cream and she cheered up nicely."
"He was really sweet," Eloise admitted quietly.
"Oh, was he?" George said, batting his eyelashes at her.
"Clear off, Georgy!" Ginny snapped. The rest of the Weasleys sans Mrs. Weasley sniggered. Harry and Hermione tried without much success to hide smiles. Luna just gazed blissfully around at them all.
"Don't call me – "
"Clear off, then!"
"Right, we were just going, weren't we, Fred?" George said meaningfully.
"You go on, I'll be right there," Fred said, still grinning at Eloise. George looked highly suspicious, but left, followed by Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley ("we'll be in the kitchen, dears").
"Gin, Lovegood," Fred said, brows raised. "Can Eloise and I have a moment?"
A slow smile was spreading across Ginny's face. Luna had a knowing look in her eye.
"Of course," the former said, turning back to Eloise. "We'll be in the kitchen when you're through here, Lisa."
"Kay." Eloise looked a bit nervous as she watched Ginny and Luna stroll out.
"Relax, I'm not going to force a canary cream on you or anything," Fred chuckled, taking a step closer. "I just wanted to find out how you've been since the Slytherin incident."
"Oh." She looked relieved, although slightly annoyed with herself. "Well, now that it's all over and done with, I feel like a squealing wet-knickers. It was stupid. Now that it's over I can think of about a hundred retorts and snappy come-backs."
"Ain't that always the way?" Fred said drolly, and he was pleased to see one of her bright little smiles tug its way onto her face. "What I meant was, how're you feeling now? Seriously, I hope you didn't take them to heart or anything. They're stupid!"
"I can't help it!" she groaned, sitting down heavily in an armchair. "It's horrid to be called fat and ugly all the time."
"Look, don't take – " but Fred was interrupted by George, who'd poked his head in.
"Oy, mate, need you upstairs," he said. He was breathless and looking a touch excited. "Think I've got something! Brilliant accident! Come along, quit flirting." And without waiting for a response, he winked at his twin and disappeared.
"Reckon I should go see what he's on about," Fred said reluctantly. He didn't want to leave yet, though. He wanted to stay and make Eloise see how stupid it was take Pansy Parkinson seriously – how she, Eloise, wasn't ugly or dumb, but even if she were that it wouldn't matter because he liked her just the way she was . . .
"Fred?" Eloise's hesitant voice pulled him back from wonderland.
"Right – sorry." He grinned, pulling a fake wand from his pocket and saluting with it right as it exploded into a rubber kipper. Eloise gave a yelp, then burst out laughing. Fred stared. Not because he wasn't used to being the cause of insane laughter, but because of the change mirth wrought in Eloise's whole appearance. If the smile had lit her face, the laughter lit her very being. It wasn't that the rare expression changed her somewhat plain features into a dazzlingly beautiful aspects – it was that she seemed to glow with an unseen magnificence.
"Fred!" she was now gasping, clutching her sides and rocking back and forth, tears spilling down her face. "Fred, I – you're so wonderful!"
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," he smirked good-naturedly as he got to his feet. Perhaps it would be safer if he escaped now. He wasn't sure he liked the effect she had on him. "I just can't stand a long face, you know," he added easily.
She looked up at him, still beaming and he made a comical face at her. She giggled.
"Well, must dash," he said, giving her a little wave. "Cheerio, madam!"
~*~
"Lisa, what's with you and Fred?" Ginny asked curiously as they, Luna and Hermione got ready for bed that night.
"Oh, Gin, he's so nice!" Eloise knew she was still grinning about the kipper incident in the living room. She really couldn't help herself. It had been so funny.
"He's certainly something," Hermione agreed, discarding her blouse and sitting down on her army cot bed to brush out her wet hair. Eloise's smile slipped a little. She had always felt a certain jealousy – although not a bitter one – toward the Muggleborn. Hermione seemed invincible. She could do anything! She could get top marks, save Hogwarts from the Dark Side, ward off Pansy Parkinson with little or no effort, completely whip Ron Weasley without knowing it, and be unintentionally pretty and well-built all at once. Eloise couldn't do any of those things – or didn't think she could – and it always gave her a pang.
However, she was too good-natured to hold something that silly against the friendly Gryffindor and anyway, she had discovered that she enjoyed spending time with the other to-be sixth year.
"So – what did you two talk about?" Ginny asked mischievously, throwing herself onto her bed and propping herself up against her pillows. Eloise felt another spasm of envy for Ginny, although that one was harder to explain. She tried to dismiss it as jealousy that Ginny had half the Hogwarts' male population drooling all over her, but it was something deeper. Eloise hoped to one day discover what it was, but in the meantime was content to admire Ginny and be deeply grateful for their wonderful friendship.
The fifth year redhead had no reason to be friends with the Hufflepuff sixth year. After all, Ginny was outgoing, witty, confident, and pretty. She could have been friends with loads of people – and was. But for whatever reason, she'd taken pains to spend lots of time with the usually reclusive Eloise ever since they'd nearly mowed each other down in the Entrance Hall trying to get outside to see the Third Task of the Tri-wizard Tournament the year before last. They'd sat together, seen Harry vanish, watched chaos ensue as Cedric's body was carried off the field hours later.
They'd kind of looked out for each other and for the last week of term had stuck together, sharing hugs, support, and companionship. Cedric had been in Hufflepuff House, and the whole episode had deeply shaken Eloise. And although Ginny had promised to see about her coming to stay with the Weasleys that summer, she'd owled in July to say that they were going "away" for a time and Eloise wouldn't be able to come stay.
However, at the end of last term, Ginny had positively begged Eloise and their admittedly unsettling friend Luna "Loony" Lovegood to come stay with her. Eloise had a feeling that it was because of the break-in at the Ministry Ginny had been involved in. The fifth year flatly refused to elaborate, but Eloise could sense her friend needed TLC and was more than willing to help in any way she could.
And so Eloise had eagerly accepted Ginny's generous invitation to stay for all of August, preferring the crowded Burrow to her own lonely home with her parents on the outskirts of Diagon Alley. Sure, it was a nice enough housing area and she had her own room, but she often felt friendless. Normally this would have been okay, but ever since Ginny's and then Luna's friendship Eloise had felt a previously unrecognized yearning for company.
Now, Eloise watched as Luna neatly folded her knickers and sorted them and her bras into color coated piles and Ginny bounced eagerly on her bed, awaiting Eloise's response.
"Er – I told you this afternoon how he was so nice to me in Diagon Alley," she said slowly. "Today he was just checking to see how I was doing. Said he was worried about me."
"That's strange," Hermoine said, absently running a brush through her curls. She hastened on, "Not strange that he'd care about your feelings, Eloise, just strange that he'd care about anyone's. Usually he's pretty wrapped up in practical joking."
"Not always," Ginny insisted. "He cares. He just doesn't always show it, or realize people need to see it. Now's just one of those times when he was paying attention. Wonder why. I mean, it's only natural that me and Mione and Luna care about you, Lisa, but Fred – I mean, he hardly knows you."
"He said – he said he likes to see me smile," Eloise offered, blushing.
"That's sweet," Luna said matter-of-factly, smiling benignly at her.
"I'm sure it was nothing, though," Eloise hastened on. "I mean, I was sort of a wet blanket before. All teary and miserable."
"I might have been, too," Hermione countered sympathetically, turning to look at Eloise compassionately. "It's dreadful the way Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode treat you! Why don't you stand up to them? There's not a pretty girl in that gang."
"I'm not exactly La Bella, either," Eloise said ruefully.
"Nonsense!" Luna said indignantly. "You've got lovely hair. And anyway, who cares what you look like?"
"I do!" Eloise moaned despairingly.
"Never mind, Eloise," Hermione said quietly, leaning over and resting a hand on her arm. "Really. Don't let it bother you."
"She's right," Ginny said, wrapping a comforting arm around Eloise's shoulders. "Anyway, forget it. We're on holiday – let's make the most of it, yeah?"
Eloise, who'd felt the familiar prick of tears in her eyes, pushed them down with a melting of relief.
"Yeah," she said, smiling at them. "Let's."
~*~
The 'fun' began the next day.
It was late the next morning when Eloise, Hermione, Luna, and Ginny came tramping down the stairs of the Burrow, still in their pajamas. Fred knew they'd stayed up late into the night, because he'd heard snatches of their serious, though often humorous conversation.
"There you are, dears!" came his mum's somewhat exasperated voice. "I thought you'd sleep right through lunch!"
"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione yawned, stretching languidly and not noticing as her tank top rode up her tummy a bit. Fred smirked at George across the table as Ron gaped. Hermione noticed him and Harry and smiled.
"Morning," she said brightly. Harry was shaking – with suppressed laughter, no doubt – at Ron's extremely red face. Hermione stared. "Harry, are you all right?"
"Fine," he squeaked, staring studiously at his scrambled eggs. Ginny snorted.
"You should be asking ickle-Ronnikins if he's well, Hermione," Fred couldn't help putting in. "He's looking a little – feverish?"
George choked on his orange juice and started sniggering. Hermione looked confused.
"Shut up!" Ron snapped, going even redder. Hermione shrugged. It amazed Fred how daft she was when it came to Ron. For someone as brainy as she was, it was incredible that she hadn't picked out the signs of Ron's affection for her that were obvious enough for even Neville to notice.
Fred's attention turned from Ron's bushy-haired future girlfriend to Eloise, who was sitting down between Ginny and Luna and looking unnaturally shy (shyness was not a characteristic commonly associated with the Burrow).
"Morning, Eloise," he offered cheerfully, trying to get her to lighten up. "Want a jam tart?" he added for good measure, offering a plate of his mother's best breakfast pastries.
"Er – no thanks, Fred," she said, eyeing them suspiciously. "I've heard stories about what you've tricked Neville Longbottom into eating."
"Oh, yes," Luna put in, eyeing him in a disconcerting way. "Poor Neville suffered several unpleasant side effects from those canary creams. I don't think it's natural for a teenage boy to molt. Especially in winter."
"It's this ridiculous joke shop of theirs, dear," Mrs. Weasley groused, coming briskly over and heaping five scrambled eggs onto Eloise's plate. "Nothing's sacred in my house anymore." She scowled. "If times weren't as dangerous as they were, I'd kick you two out!" she informed the twins darkly.
In fact, Fred and George had been angling to move to Diagon Alley even since they'd arrived home after leaving Hogwarts. At first, their mum had been on the point of disowning them anyway. A few stories of Umbridge's tyrannical stories, as confirmed by her other children and Harry at the end of the year, had convinced her Fred and George had been right in leaving. She'd been considerably less pleased when she'd heard that they had secured two lots for their joke shops and intended to move in above the shop in Diagon Alley. She'd remained skeptical until the Grand Opening there, and then conceded that the turnout was a sure sign that her sons were running a lucrative business. However, she flatly refused to allow them to leave home. She claimed that if they had indeed been serious about joining the Order of the Phoenix as they'd insisted they would upon graduation, they'd need to be close to home to stay up with the goings on of the resistance against You-Know-Who.
"Er - speaking of jokes, aren't you two supposed to be working?" Hermione asked curiously, passing over the jam tarts in favor of a biscuit.
"We're not opened on Saturdays, Sundays, or Mondays," Fred told her. "We've got to have a bit of a break after all, don't we?"
"Hey, Lisa," Ginny said suddenly. "How'd you know he was Fred? Earlier, I mean. You called him Fred."
"Dunno," Eloise shrugged, taking a tentative bite of egg. "He just – just looks like Fred, I suppose. Oh, and I noticed that they've got different earrings."
Fred busied himself with his own food and tried to hide his grin of pleasure. It wasn't often that people – even his family – could distinguish between he and George, even with their earrings. It got right irritating since, although they did everything together, Fred and his twin were vastly different. They were rarely recognized as such, and therefore often under-appreciated for their individuality.
Fred was also uncomfortably aware that he'd added another item to his "Why I Like Eloise Midgeon" list. It was getting too lengthy for its own good.
"So," said Harry, brushing his hands off on his napkin. "Who's up for a match today?"
"We are," George said immediately, indicating himself and Fred. After his nice revelation a moment ago about how nice it was that he and George were two different entities, this comment annoyed Fred extremely.
"I'm not," Hermione said, looking annoyed. "Ron, Harry, Eloise – we've got N.E.W.T. level classes beginning this fall. We really ought to be up on our summer homework. And Fred and George - aren't you going to have to take the N.E.W.T.s to officially graduate?"
Fred rolled his eyes. Okay, maybe he would rather play Quidditch.
"She's got an excellent point, boys," Mrs. Weasley put in, spooning gravy over Eloise's biscuit now. "Why don't you have a lie-in and study this morning?"
"Mum!" George groaned. "Fred and me haven't even decided if we WANT to bother graduating. Anyway, we've been working damned hard this week. Double shifts and all, plus some new experimentation. Let us have a bit of fun?"
"That's no excuse for laziness!" their mum snapped. "You'll spend the morning inside with your spell books open – where I can see you!"
"Thanks a lot, Hermione!" Ron snapped when he thought Mrs. Weasley was out of earshot. "Now we'll be locked inside all day!"
"Don't you be cross with her because she cares about her future, Ronald Weasley!" Apparently, their mum hadn't been out of earshot. "It's more than you deserve, having such a good friend. I suppose you've finished all your homework already, Hermione dear?"
"Yes, as it happens," Hermione said, glowering at Ron.
"And, Eloise? Luna? Ginny, dear?" Fred noticed her face go softer than usual as she spoke to the sixth year girl.
"Yes, Mrs. Weasley," Eloise and Luna answered, while Ginny nodded over a mouthful of griddle cake.
"All right, then." Mrs. Weasley beamed at her. "Why don't you three and Hermione go out and enjoy the sun this morning? It's going to be lovely out today. Perhaps you could de-gnome the garden for me?"
"All right," Hermione said, smiling back and causing Ron to seethe. Ginny simply groaned.
"Can I de-gnome the garden as well?" Fred asked quickly. George gaped at him, and Fred ignored it.
"I don't see why not," Mrs. Weasley said, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Well, that's nice!" Ron
cried. "I thought he was supposed to stay in with us and study!"
"He's offering to do chores, and I certainly won't stand in his way!" Mrs. Weasley said sharply. "Now stop gaping like a fish and finish your sausage, Ron. Harry, dear, have you got enough bacon there?"
"Can I de-gnome as well?" George asked eagerly.
"Certainly not!" Their mum looked scandalized. "You two," she indicated Fred as well, "wouldn't get a spot of gnoming done, would you? Probably smuggle the ruddy things up to your room again. Heavens, I'm too old to be raising you two!"
George opened his mouth to protest, but Mrs. Weasley held up a warning spatula.
"That's enough, George," she said. "If you're so eager to de-gnome, you can do it tomorrow while the others have a match with Bill and Charlie."
Fred didn't dare smirk as his twin – he knew George well enough to know that there'd be hell to pay in the nasty pranks department – but instead finished his breakfast.
Fifteen minutes later, he followed Ginny through the back door. The girls were dressed now, and looking quite cheerful. Harry, Ron, and George were spread out over the kitchen table, and even Harry glared mutinously at him as he passed.
"Er – how exactly do you de-gnome a garden?" Eloise asked suddenly from in front of Ginny.
"You've never de-gnomed before?" Fred demanded. "Lucky girl!"
"Er – we don't have a garden," Eloise said. "Our flowers and shrubs are looked after by our House – er, we've got a gardener to do it for us since we're all so busy."
Good move, Fred thought. She'd been about to say "House Elf," which was a bad move with Hermione around - especially after last summer's episodes with that bloody stupid elf, Kreacher.
"Fred'll teach you," Ginny told her friend, coming to a halt and surveying the innocent-looking vegetables suspiciously. "He and George are really good at it." She turned a wicked grin on her brother. "Loads of practice, you know."
"Careful, Gin-Jam, or you'll find something unpleasant in your trifle tonight," Fred warned, but with a smile for Eloise to reassure her he was joking. "Come on, Eloise, we'll take this half. The wimpy gnomes hide under lettus leaves."
It took some time for Eloise to get over her reluctance to throw them. Surprisingly, she had a sharp eye and could spot the things easily enough, but once she got them she sort of danced around holding the gnome at arm's length before throwing it a few feet away.
Fred was hard-pressed not to laugh, but didn't want to hurt her feelings and restrained himself – just. It wasn't until her third catch that one of the gnomes horny little feet caught her hand, tearing a rather nasty gash in her palm.
"Why, you – !" she looked ready to kill and hurled the thing as hard as she could.
"Good one!" Fred said, grinning as the thing bounced off a tree at least thirty feet away and stumbled off into the woods. Fred turned back to Eloise to congratulate her on her superb aim, but stopped dead when he saw the tears glistening in her eyes.
"Hey – you okay?" he asked, taking a step closer and scooping her injured hand into his own to examine the cut.
"Just hurts a bit," she muttered, turning quickly away as the blood slowly pooled in her hand. It wasn't deep, although the cut hadn't been clean and was bleeding rather a lot. He had a feeling Eloise was one of those people who hated getting hurt, whether it was a bee-sting or a broken leg.
"Come along, then, let's get you cleaned up," he said gently. She looked up at him, her lips trembling a bit. Without thinking, Fred reached out a wiped a tear from her cheek.
"Hey – it's okay!" he said, truly concerned now. "Mum'll fix you up in no time. And I mean, come on! Did you see what you did to the poor gnome? He's probably got concussion, and you're worried about a cut?"
Eloise's tear stained face split into a smile.
"That's better," Fred said, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders and keeping her injured hand cupped in his own. "It's impressive that you can smile after a trying ordeal like this." Eloise giggled, resting her head briefly against his shoulder in thanks.
From their side of the garden, Hermione and Ginny watched Fred in wonder. Luna merely looked curious.
"Fred may be a caring guy, but really!" Ginny said at last, turning to gape at her bushy-haired friend. "Even with his girlfriends he's not like this."
"Does he even know the names of half of them?" Luna pointed out reasonably. Ginny giggled.
"I reckon he feels protective for some reason," Hermione said, sitting back on her heals and grinning at Luna. "Maybe there's something about her he likes. I mean, the more I get to know her, the more I appreciate her."
"I know exactly what you mean," Ginny said, giving a particularly feisty gnome a good knock on the head with a trowel before tossing him far away. "I hadn't realized how smart she was. I mean, the only reason you can't tell right off is that she's insecure and doesn't think she's intelligent. She lets it slip unintentionally. And she's so easy to confide it. I always feel like I can trust her."
"I think what strikes me," Luna said thoughtfully, "is that when I talk to her – really talk, when she's not worried about her looks or anything – I get the impression that she sees a lot more in me than I do. Muggles usually refer to those kinds of people as 'old souls.' It's like she understands my perspective, but also sees the fifty other sides of the story and how each one is related in some way. I can't really explain."
"I think I know what you mean," Ginny nodded. "Anyway, I'm not sure I could put a finger on why I really admire her and want to be her friend. It's something about her. It's a – um – " she laughed helplessly. "Can't explain, but I think I'm content just to like her."
"Good enough," Hermoine said as they went back to de-gnoming.
~*~
Inside, Fred led Eloise to the sink and stuck her hand under the warm water. She gasped as the cut began to sting.
"Mum!" Fred hollered at the top of his lungs. "Sorry, Eloise," he added, seeing her fighting back tears at the stinging in her hand. "I know it hurts, but if you don't clean it out it'll get infected and you won't be able to write for a month. Gnomes have really dirty feet. Actually, had it happen to me last summer. My bloody hand puffed up like a balloon." He laughed at the memory. "Professor McGonagall wouldn't believe me when I told her why I couldn't finish my Transfig essay."
Eloise smiled, but it was bitter. Fred didn't like it. Faces like hers looked wrong, somehow, with unhappy expressions on them.
"I'm such a wimp about pain," she muttered, looking angry. "I'm such a baby about getting hurt. I take it personally – "
"Look, would you stop beating yourself up about everything?" Fred said rather sharply. She looked at him in surprise. "So you don't like pain – who does?" He turned off the water and walked Eloise over to the table, even as Mrs. Weasley came bustling it. Harry, George, and Ron had disappeared.
"Oh, dear," she said, examining the hand for a moment before smiling reassuringly at Eloise. "Not to worry, dear. I've got just the thing." Fred's mum turned away, reaching into a cabinet and pulling out a jar of potion that was pale pink. She dug through a drawer below the countertop for a roll of gauze.
"Did you – ah, you did wash it. Good thinking, Fred, dear," his mother said, smiling approvingly at him. "And did you finish your side of the garden?"
"Nope," he said, watching Eloise's face carefully. She looked calmer, although faintly troubled about something. "Mione, Lovegood, and Gin are still out there, though."
"Well, it's a big garden, isn't it?" Mrs. Weasley countered. "Get along, go finish. I'll take care of Eloise."
"Sure you're okay?" Fred asked the sixth year again.
"I'll be fine," she offered a tentative smile, although this one wasn't tainted with unhappiness of any sort and warmed Fred. "Thanks."
"Come on out when you're done in here and you can watch the master at work," he said, saluting her mock-primly and exiting before his mother could start berating him.
Fred had only tossed a few gnomes over the fence when Eloise, with a large white swath of bandages round her hand, emerged from the house, a heavy looking book under her arm.
"What's this?" he asked playfully. "I thought you were going to watch me."
"I am," she assured him. "But I hate the thought of sitting while you do all the work, so I thought it was only fair that I be working on something, too."
Fred stared at her in amazement. She went on.
"It's an N.E.W.T. prep book my dad got me," she said, holding up the thick volume so Fred could read the title: 'Nastily Exhaustive Wizarding Tests For the Nasty or Exhausted.'
"It's not exactly riveting, but I've got to start in on it some time," the sixth year shrugged, her dirty blonde hair swaying with the movement.
"All I can say is – I'm sorry," he joked, turning back to the garden. "I'd offer to help, but I've obviously not taken them myself and I'd probably fall asleep trying to study for them. Almost as boring as listening to Professor Binns."
"I always enjoy History of Magic, because I can read right through the class," Eloise said, flopping down under a large tree that stood at the edge of the garden. "I love faery tales and Muggle classics, so I hide Dickens or Austen or Christian Anderson inside my history book."
"Ah – you have a mischievous streak, after all," Fred said triumphantly, heaving two gnomes over the fence.
"I never thought of it that way," she said, considering. "Yes, I suppose I do – not as developed as yours, obviously, but it's there."
"Good girl," he said approvingly, sinking down next to her and pulling up his tee shirt to mop his brow. "I bet you do loads of other things just like that and don't even think about it. What else?"
"Weeeeellllll," she said slowly, tilting her head to the side and looking thoughtful. "I pretty much ignore Snape during class."
"What?"
"Well, I study up on the potions before class," she shrugged. "That way I can be a step ahead of Snape and not get into trouble during class."
"And you never considered ignoring Snape as being in any way daring or dangerous?" Fred asked, completely dumb-founded. He and George had done many foolish and audacious things in their time at Hogwarts, but never had they messed directly with Snape.
"Eloise," he said slowly, still gaping, "you're a brave girl!"
"Thanks, I think," she said, offering a blinding smile and looking rather satisfied with herself.
New item added to "Why I Like Eloise Midgeon."
~*~
That night had been completely insane inside and Eloise had been so overwhelmed that she'd had to step outside to take a breather. She didn't mind the bustle, noise, laughter, and constant run-ins with Fred and George's prank material, but she wasn't used to craziness of the Burrow yet.
Charlie and Bill were apparently arriving that night with some other people from the Order of the Phoenix (Ginny and Hermione had filled Eloise and Luna in on bits of unclassified information about the resistance group the night they'd talked about Fred) and Mrs. Weasley had everyone cleaning, scrubbing, and tidying like mad. She herself was preparing a late night tea that almost assured a sleepless night.
Eloise felt a smile tug at the corner of her mouth as she leaned on the back porch railing and looked out over the garden and grassy yard. She was having such a good time. It was nice to be surrounded by people. Granted, she was surrounded by people at Hogwarts as well, but with them she was always in danger of being teased or laughed at. At the Burrow, everyone was very kind and quite laid back, even if they were caught up in preparations to defend the wizarding world from You-Know-Who. No one cared what she looked like, no one wanted to see her cry, and everyone went out of their way to make her feel at home – even Harry and Hermione, and they didn't even live there!
And there was Fred.
Eloise snorted at the faint blush that crept across her already rosy cheeks – and she was alone, for Merlin's sake! The thought of the fifth oldest Weasley boy made her smile goofily. Who would have thought he was so great? Around him, Eloise felt safe – he didn't care that she wasn't pretty, wasn't slim, and was completely insecure. He had never told her she was pretty, but he did tell her – though not in so many words – that her looks were completely irrelevant when it came to his feelings for her –
Feelings for her?
Hang on; she didn't even know if he had feelings for her. And why should he? She was nothing out of the ordinary – honestly, plain was her middle name –
But that was just it. He made her feel like more than that. He made her feel like her, as though that were a good thing.
"Eloise?" She nearly jumped out of her skin.
"Sorry," Fred grinned disarmingly, allowing the screen door to swing shut behind him. "I noticed you duck out and wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm great!" she said, with perfect truth, offering him a bright smile. She could have sworn she saw him swallow as she grinned, but cast it off as her whimsical imagination – she couldn't possibly have that effect on him.
"Family's a bit overbearing at times, I know," Fred nodded, stepping up beside her and leaning on the raining. Gazing out into the gathering dusk, he asked, "How's the hand?"
"Whatever your mum put on it is working," she said, holding out the injured hand and unwrapping the bandages so he could see. The gash had cauterized and was now an impressive red scar.
"Quite a beauty," he murmured, cupping the hand in his and examining the wound. Eloise felt a bit of a tingle at the touch. "You can tell your grandchildren all about your courageous duel with a vicious, man-eating garden gnome!"
She saw the teasing look in his eyes and laughed, nudging him gently.
"It was a trying ordeal," she said, mock-seriously. "I'll probably have gnome-a-phobia until the day I die!"
And then the most amazing thing happened. Fred laughed.
Obviously, 'Fred laughing' in and of itself was no amazing concept, but the fact that she had said something funny enough to make the king of pranks give a good, hardy chuckle was quite gratifying.
His laughter died away, and he turned to look at her fully, leaning sideways against the rail. Her hand was still grasped in his.
"You're full of surprises, Eloise Midgeon," he said quietly. "First, I find out you go around casually ignoring dangerous gits with greasy hair and think nothing of it, and now I discover you've got quite a sarcastic, witty streak in you. What else don't I know?"
The intimacy of the porch, and the fact that his hand still cupped hers were simultaneously causing her to blush and grin goofily. The pleasant, warm tingle was still tingling. She tried to answer seriously.
"Dunno. I like cockroach clusters."
"Come again?" Fred was, for the second or third time that day, gawking at her as though she was mental. She wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed or pleased.
"Er – they're crunchy." Okay, she'd have to go with embarrassed. She bit her lip, waiting for him to back away.
She should have known. He began to chuckle again.
"You're so – so – quirky," he finished, gazing down at her in wonder.
"Sorry," she mumbled, now thoroughly chagrined.
"Would you stop apologizing for every sodding thing you do?" he asked, and though his voice was once again sharp, it wasn't annoyed so much as insistent. "Quirky's good!"
"Sor – no, wait," she cut herself off. "I'm just – I'm not used to thinking much of myself."
"So I've noticed," he said somewhat sardonically. "Is there anything you do appreciate about yourself?"
"Um – my hair?" she ventured, looking away.
"I know you're not as shallow as that," he chided, reaching out the hand that wasn't clasping hers to tilt her chin up so she was forced to meet his gaze. "Important things, Eloise. What part of Eloise do you like?"
"I – don't know," she said, rather hopelessly.
"Well, I know what I like," Fred said, the fingers on her chin moving up to her cheek. She shivered at the touch. "I love your eyes – not that they're pretty, which incidentally they are, but that they're expressive. I can read everything you're thinking and see everything you're feeling in those pretty eyes of yours."
"Wow," she whispered. "No one's ever said anything like that to me before."
"And in all fairness, I shouldn't be saying this now," Fred said bluntly. Seeing her startled look, he went on. "Thing is, I have this little list of all the things I like and admire about you. It's really quite long now. But none of it matters if you don't see those things for yourself."
"Can't you help me a bit?" she pleaded. "I've never really appreciated much about myself and I don't know where to start now."
"We'll work on it," he said. "I've got to think about the right way of doing this without just giving you things I like." He pulled his hand from her face and stroked his imaginary mustache. "We'll get to the bottom of this, Miss Midgeon," he said in an extremely prim accent – rather like a pompous detective. "Have no fe-AH."
She burst out laughing so hard that she was clutching her sides before long. How did he do this to her?
"Fred," she gasped, her eyes tearing as she giggled uncontrollably. "I'm going to have an internal hemorrhage of some sort if you keep making me laugh like this."
"That giggle is getting a bit unmanageable," he said thoughtfully, still stroking the mustache. "But I've go just the thing for it."
"What do you – " But her speech – and giggles – were silence a moment later as Fred drew her to him with the hand still clutching her injured one –
And kissed her.
~*~
TBC