The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.

Carl Jung

888

The four teenagers were lying in a circle: their heads positioned like the hub of a wheel and their bodies the spokes. The redhead would occasionally complain that the girls' hair was getting in his face, but aside from that, the atmosphere was almost peaceful.

'Your turn, Hermione. Truth or dare.' Frank grinned wickedly.

The other girl flushed. 'I cannot believe we're playing this. I haven't since I was what, six?'

'We know 'Mione,' the red-head piped up, 'you've told us at least twice since we started. We've told you that we're done with our homework, it's a sunny day, and we have nothing better to do; swallow your maturity and answer the question!' Frank winced a little at the boy's words. Didn't he get that Hermione was crushing on him? That she'd be at least a little hurt by his impatient tone?

'Okay, Ron, there's no need to get so worked up. Truth.'

Frank turned her head and whispered a question in Hermione's ear. The older girl sighed. Frank rolled her eyes. She would have liked to ask something to stir the waters around Ron and Hermione's relationship, but since her friend was being so obliging of her wishes, she figured that a nice benign question was the least she could give in return.

'Fine. I used to really like boiled celery. Ron. Truth or dare.'

'Dare.'

'All right. I dare you to... go and get your finished potions essay and let me look it over.' Ugh, what was it with these two. Wasting a perfectly good dare on his homework, of all things.

He was silent. Then, grumbling, Ron got up and started shuffling towards the house. Hermione followed him, saying something about 'Cheating' as she walked out of earshot.

Alone now, Frank and the quiet black-haired boy lay head-to-head. Staring into a particularly fluffy white cloud, she addressed him. Hermione had finally given her the opportunity she needed; it was time for the inquisition.

'So, Harry. Truth or dare?'

'Pardon?'

'Truth or dare.'

'Shouldn't we wait for... truth.'

Smiling at his apparent discomfort, Frank chose the question foremost in her mind and asked bluntly, 'Have you ever flirted with a girl?'

'I-- What?!'

'Have you ever flirted with a girl?'

He laughed a little breathlessly. 'As opposed to flirting with a guy?' Was he stalling or was that a sincere question?

'Erm. No.' Unless he was into that sort of thing? Damn, that would put a damper on the situation. She rephrased her question, 'have you ever consciously flirted with a girl?'

'I don't know. Sure.' He sounded a bit more than uncertain. Was he gay?

'All right. I'll take that as a no.'

'Hey, I had a girlfriend!' he cried indignantly. Girlfriends were good. Especially in a past tense.

'Right. Had...does that mean you're single?'

8

Harry tried to hear around the pounding in his ears. If he'd been asked later, he wouldn't have been able to say why he felt like he'd just run ten laps around the Quidditch pitch, or why his heart felt like it was permanently lodged in his throat. Was he single? Yes. Did he want to be single? It depended on... a lot of things.

'Yes,' he managed to say around the nervousness that had formed itself into a ball and settled neatly in his chest.

'Are you interested in someone right now?'

Great powers above, didn't the girl have any restraint? He thought he might pass out from sheer uncomfortableness, if that was possible. No doubt Hermione would chastise him for using a word that didn't exist, but at the moment, his subconscious was past caring.

Trying to make his voice sound calm and assured, he stared resolutely at the sky - where he could there had not been a red-tinged, female profile a second ago - and asked, 'Why does it matter?'

Not missing a beat, Frank responded, 'Well, assuming you were a) single, b) not interested in anyone at the moment, and c) don't find me completely repulsive, I would ask you out.'

'What?' came Harry's intelligent and witty repartee. He cursed his own eloquence. Really though, he'd known her for little more than a day! He'd known Cho for much longer than that and he's still been tongue-tied asking her to the Yule Ball. He'd known Ginny for, well...

'What do you mean, what?'

Harry's mind was drawing a blank. 'Eh. No. I mean, why?'

There was a thoughtful pause from Frank. 'Well. Originally, it was because you're cute and shy, and it was amusing to make you squirm. Then I learned about 'The Famous Harry Potter', and I felt bad because, no matter what you've been through, I don't know anyone who'd want to be surrounded by the figurative eggshells they've covered you with. Lastly, in the past two days, you've been quiet, reserved, polite, funny, mature, and inventive in the oddest situations. I've never met anyone who would try to bribe their chess pieces with cookie crumbs, and I doubt I'll ever meet another. You really are abominable at the game.'

Harry blinked. So her interest was part sadism, part pity, and part imagination.

'Right, well. Are you interested?'

Harry said nothing.

Frank rolled over and levered herself up on her elbows. Harry, not wanting to be stared at, did the same. It was then that he realized his mistake. He and Frank were awfully close. Uncomfortably close.

'Do me a favour?' she asked calmly.

Harry, entranced by a pale freckle just below her left eye - strange that she should have just one -, gave a slow nod.

Frank confidently closed the space remaining between them. Harry's eyes flickered to her lips and back up to her eyes. They were green, he noticed detachedly, before they shut.

Kissing Frank was a lot different than kissing Cho. Drier, for one thing. His neck was sore from lying at a funny angle on the grass, and his elbows were cramped from digging into the ground. He realized that he hadn't been nearly so aware of his surroundings while kissing Cho. He had been almost completely focused on the fact that she was, indeed, kissing him. Now he felt as though this was any other part of him touching any other part of Frank, as one might brush elbows in a confined space. There wasn't anything to define it, to make it into the sensory, intimate experience that it was famed to be.

Abruptly, Frank pulled away. She was biting her bottom lip and had a thoughtful expression on her face. 'That was... informative. You like someone else, don't you?'

Harry blinked and his elbows gave way underneath him. He rolled over onto his back, and scrunched up his face when Frank's hair got in his eyes. Then he lied. 'I don't know. Do I?'

Frank laughed and flopped down beside him, staring once more into the clouds.

'Yes. You most certainly do. Well, either that or you're a phenomenally bad kisser. Never have I kissed someone who was so unenthusiastic about it. Tell me. Who's the lucky girl? Is it Hermione?'

At his scared and alarmed look, she guessed again.

'Is it Cho?'

He wondered how she knew about Cho, and confusedly shook his head.

'Lavender, Parvati?'

He shook his head again. Had she given Hermione a similar inquisition about all the girls his age?

'Mrs. Weasley?' Frank sounded amused.

'Er. No.'

'Then, my friend,' giving a title which Harry four himself very thankful to hear, 'I'm afraid that you've got it bad for a certain Ginny Weasley.'

Frowning, he asked, 'How do you figure?'

'Process of elimination. Well, no. Talked to Hermione about it. But think about how nervous you were when I first asked you if you'd flirted with a girl. Not only was panic your first reaction, but you took a little too long informing me of your singularity not to have an interest in someone.'

Harry blinked.

'Of course, I strongly suspected that Ginny fit in here somewhere. Not only did she make a particular point of mentioning you at our meeting, but when I arrived, your cheeks were slightly flushed, something which I'm sure related to her recent departure. Does any of this ring a bell?'

Harry blinked again. This was all feeling surreal.

'I'm, erm, I'm not saying that I do, but if you suspected that I had an... interest in Ginny, then why did you, uh, kiss me?'

'I had to be sure, of course.'

Harry blinked and she continued.

'I like being certain of something before I either give up on it, or go all out. It saves me disappointment, and that way I know I'm not wasting my time.' She pushed herself up on one elbow, and extended her hand. 'Friends?'

He turned over and grasped her hand. Giving her a half grin, and marveling at her ability to take said uncomfortableness out of a potentially awkward situation and turn it to her advantage, he sealed the agreement. 'Friends.'

8

'Hello, and welcome to Tellegence Communications and Processing. How may I help you?'

Ginny walked through the blue glass doorway and looked around her. There were glass signs hanging from the ceiling, each one the same colour as a group of tables and counters underneath. The sign nearest to her read 'Contiguier' in large, pale green letters, and below it there were several people talking to what appeared to be iridescent sales assistants.

'Hi, we're looking for a Magical Athenaeum Network. Preferably a 1.3 model.'

Dominic was speaking to the shimmering sales assistant who had approached them. The assistant smiled at them and turned on her heel, walking toward a group of blue tables under a sign that read 'Athenaeum Accounts'. Dominic followed the woman, and Ginny followed him, with Izzie and Charles close behind.

They stopped at the tables and the woman laid a hand on the counter-top. The skin on her hand flickered to a yellow, then back to blue. When she lifted her hand, a navy blue tube had appeared in the space it had previously vacated.

Dominic picked it up. He twisted one end of the tube, and opened it, so that they were connected horizontally by what looked like it might be a hinge. He then set it down so that two halves of the cylinder lay face down on the table. Having done so, Dominic slid a fingernail into a crack in one of the halves, lifted up a kind of switch and flicked it upwards.

Ginny's eyes widened. It was the oddest thing. With that small flick, spidery blue writing had appeared in the air above the navy device, and settled itself into words and tables in the air. His fingers flitted briefly over a few of the words, words that Ginny was at the wrong angle to see. It took her a moment to realize that he was speaking quietly to the shimmering woman on his right.

'What kind of processor does it use?' he asked, fiddling with the blue tables.

'An AEP, using etheric compound as its primary power source, emergency configuration set to raw electricity. If you'd like to change it, we have customer service lines open twenty-four hours a day.'

'Does it use standard archival settings, or the new networking?

'Networking.' The woman's smile flickered. Literally.

'What kind of security system does it have?'

'Voice and fingerprint ID, though the IRS is an definite option if you'd be willing to pay for the accompanying auxiliaries.'

Dom raised his eyebrows. 'What about storage capabilities? Do you have a guarantee?'

'Of course.' The woman's smile brightened again. 'We guarantee four deFirawlls of storage, but depending on what you have in mind for your MAN, the exact amount of dF's may vary.'

'One moment, please.' Dominic selected one of the blue words, and they all disappeared. He turned around and looked at Ginny.

'How does that sound?' he asked.

Ginny blinked. 'Not a lot like English, to tell you the truth.'

Dominic laughed. 'Just be thankful that Pascale's not here. She'd talk your ear off and she might or might not use words. Basically, what you're getting is a storage device that holds a lot of info, can receive and transmit messages, and runs on standard ether compound, and you get an Intense Retina Scan with the package. At least, I highly recommend that you get it. The IRS that is. It doesn't take long for your MAN to get rather personal, and you're going to want the best security features there are. And it's an attractive dark blue.' He grinned.

Ginny smiled back. 'Well, you sound as if you know what you're talking about... would you buy it?'

'Yes. As manipulatively friendly as they are, these guys are the best. They're at the top of the charts, and they're only going up. It helps that I kind of know what I'm talking about, and I don't think that they're selling us short, so this sounds like our best bet.' He pushed his hair out of his eyes, and she nodded.

'There are other, newer models, but this one has electric capabilities, and that's always a... plus. Besides, it's had the highest success ratings, and Pascale has almost the exact same one. Believe me, if she has it, then it's good. So, is that a yes?'

Ginny was rather curious about who this mysterious Pascale could be. She was obviously someone close to the three Canadians. Ginny looked around. Izzie and Charles had wandered off into the 'Contiguiers' section, and were heatedly discussing something with an iridescent man in overalls. She turned back to Dominic. 'Sure. How much is it?'

'One sec.' Dominic looked back to the sales assistant. 'We'll take it. One Magical Athenaeum Network, complete with IRS, four guaranteed dF's, an electric backup system, and merging, sharing, and searching capabilities. We'd also like it equipped with personalized messaging, unbreakable and water-proof charms, and a locator.'

The woman smiled widely and disappeared.

'What!' Ginny exclaimed. 'What happened?'

'She went to relay the configuration details. She's a hologram... a projection. The real store is underneath the building. They started using projections a few years ago because they didn't have enough qualified employees to manage both the creation and marketing of their products. They didn't have enough time to train new people, and then they were still a relatively small name, so they built an Intelligence Unit, and programmed it with four or five appearances, several languages, and the theoretical knowledge of everything they'd ever built. They connected the IntelliUnit to a Projector, magically animated their results, and Voilà! They changed their name, and suddenly they were bigger than French toast.'

Ginny looked at him.

'What? I did a research project on them last year. Besides which, Pascale practically worships them. Oh, look, here she comes.' His attention was focused on the space where the woman had disappeared, and was now flickering back into existence.

Once she had more or less materialized, she walked to where the MAN had been sitting before she left. It had vanished, though she seemed completely unconcerned. Ginny wondered, however, if this wasn't because the woman only had two expressions: happy and unconcerned. Probably, considering that she wasn't actually real...

Snapping out of her thoughts, Ginny watched as a small silver box appeared on the table. The glimmering woman produced a blue ribbon from somewhere, and it tied itself around the box.

'Will that be all for today?' she asked politely.

'Yes, thanks.'

'One hundred and two Dalle, please. You can register your MAN manually or with the help of our twenty-four hour customer service.'

Ginny reached for her purse. She opened it, unsure how she would get out one hundred of the purple coins without making a mess. She looked pleadingly at Dominic.

'Ask it. Specifically. Say: One hundred and two Dalle.'

Feeling ridiculous for talking to a bag, she said quietly, 'One hundred and two Dalle.'

Nothing happened, and she glanced uncertainly at Dom.

He smiled at her clueless expression. 'Open it and dump it into her hand.'

Ginny did as instructed. A stream of purple coins poured onto the woman's hand, and winked out of existence. It was rather pretty to watch; the clinking glass coins reflected the sales assistant's shimmering skin before disappearing.

When the bag was empty, Ginny closed it and reopened it. She was relieved to see it still appeared to contain the same amount as before...minus the spent coins, of course.

Dominic took the box from the woman's extended hand, and passed it to her. Ginny slipped it into one of the shopping bags that had been floating behind her. The sales assistant responded with a monotone, 'Have a nice day', and disappeared again as the two teenagers turned to leave. When they reached the door, Dominic looked over his shoulder. Izzie and Charles quickly caught up with them.

'Does Pascale have one of the new Contiguier yet?' Charles said, falling into step between Ginny and Dominic.

'Probably. We'll find out this weekend, I suppose. Are you coming?' he addressed Ginny.

'Pardon me?'

'Are you coming to visit Pascale? She lives up north with her grandmother, about a four and a half hour drive. We visit her every year before school starts.' Dominic grinned, 'If you don't mind spending four and a half hours in a car with the three of us, then you're welcome to come.'

'Why don't you Floo?' Ginny asked, confused.

'Well, a few years ago, the gates were down because someone had apparently tried to bring a domesticated moose through the fireplace. We couldn't apparate, and we didn't own a flying carpet so... we took the car.'

'It was brilliant,' Charles interjected.

'Indeed it was. Well, after that, it kind of became a tradition within tradition, and we've been doing it ever since.' Dominic turned left, and the girls followed.

'Basically, you can either stay here with my brother and his midget friends, or you can spend the weekend with the coolest people you will ever meet.' Charles made a show of weighing the two options, before her right hand dropped so far down that she staggered to stay standing.

'You know, you're right, your mum is really cool.' Ginny grinned.

This time Charles did fall over. As Izzie helped her back up, Charles looked desperately at Ginny. 'Please say you were kidding!'

Ginny nodded and rolled her eyes. 'Obviously.'

'Thank the powers that be! You really had me worried there.'

'Of course I'll come. Who is Pascale, just as a point of interest? You seem to talk about her a lot.'

'Pascale is a good friend of ours. She should be living in Cathedral, but when her parents—left, she went to live with her grandparents and sold the house here. That was about six years ago, and we've been visiting every summer since.' Izzie grinned and grabbed Ginny's elbow, pulling her to a stop.

'I believe you wanted to get your wand checked?'

On their left was a small green door set deeply into the wall. Ginny, who barely made five feet, would have had to duck to go through. There was a small round window toward the top, and horizontally below that was a wand. It was set into the wood, but there were small green particles floating inside it, just like Charles' wand.

Izzie let go her elbow and knocked on the door. The wand seemed to gain twice as many bubbles of colour, before Ginny heard a 'click' sound, and the door swung open.

They walked through the miniature doorway, and found themselves in a cheery little shop lit by several glowing globes and a roaring fireplace. A short woman with long grey hair piled messily on top of her head and tied up with a large scarf walked out from behind the counter in the back of the room.

'Hello, there. I'm Gladys of the Gossamer Guild, specialty being wands and other magical foci. What c'n I do for you?' She took a pair of square glasses out of a pocket in the front of her apron, and put them on, blinking to let her eyes adjust.

'Well, I've seen you three before,' she said, peering at Charles and the twins, 'Everything still satisfactory, I trust?'

They assured her that, yes indeed, their wands were still working excellently, and looked expectantly at Ginny. Momentarily at a loss for words, Ginny pulled out her wand and held it out in front of her.

'Ooh, that's an Ollivander, isn't it?' Gladys pushed up her glasses further on her nose and plucked Ginny's wand from her fingers.

'Hazelwood, twelve and a half inches, with a core of dragon heartstring and... what is that?'

Ginny blushed at the woman's harsh tone. 'It's a—um— a feather from a young Occamy...'

Gladys raised a black eyebrow. 'An Occamy? Really. I had no idea that old Ollivander was experimenting with imported ingredients. That sneaky, bloviating, Strigiformesical excuse for a wizard." Despite her string of insults, she sounded pleased and examined Ginny's wand with fondness. "Do you find that this wand works well for you?'

Ginny nodded a bit uncomfortably. 'I was hoping you could tell me what kind of differences there are between, say, my wand and Charles' wand. Besides the obvious, of course,' she added hastily.

The woman handed Ginny back her wand and took off her glasses, polishing them absent-mindedly.

'Well,' she began, 'I suppose the main difference would be the wand core and the method that I use to imbue it with the necessary qualities for focusing magic. Ollivander uses naturally magical substances, which not only amplifies the user's natural power, but also suppresses potential magical development to avoid fatiguing the caster. It does most of the work for them, leaving them with no real idea about what goes on while casting spells.' Upon seeing Ginny's rather embarrassed look, she corrected herself. 'There is nothing wrong with it. In fact, you could say that they relate in rather the same way as a standard and an automatic.'

Ginny blinked.

'All right, wrong comparison. Think of it as making your bed. You know how to do it, and you can do it perfectly, even if your eyes were closed, but when you open them, you become aware of the details, such as how many wrinkles there are in the duvet, or how far it's pulled up over the pillow. Using one of my wands takes longer to learn because there isn't anything helping you; they simply direct the power, as opposed to enhancing it. People who begin on an Ollivander-type wand can condition themselves to use their wands differently. In fact, it occurs more often than you'd think. I take an academic interest in this, as I'm sure you'll understand, and, statistically, for converting wand users, find that there is often a escalation in power level as they tone their abilities and exercise faculties that would have otherwise remained untapped.'

'All right...'

Gladys looked towards Izzie. 'How long have you had your wand?'

'About six years, I think.'

Gladys stuck her glasses atop her hair. 'And in that time, what have you learned?'

Izzie frowned. 'What do you mean?'

'Well, what kinds of skills have you learned?'

'I can clean, I can summon, I can vanish, I can defend myself, I can transfigure, I have a mean tickling jinx... stuff like that?'

'Sort of. When did you lean to levitate things?'

'In level one. Towards the end of the year.'

'All right.' Gladys looked shrewdly at Izzie, then glanced towards Ginny. 'What did they tell you was the most important element to casting a spell?'

'Intention.' Izzie said automatically.

'That's right. Although you still need words and a wand movement, it's the intention you put into it that really dictates what your spell is going to do. If you intend for your leaf to go floating up to the ceiling, then it's likely to do so. That, is the main difference between your wand,' she pointed to Ginny's hazelwood, 'and yours,' she gestured toward Charles. 'What you intend to do, and what you're actually saying. Unsurprisingly, this is very similar to wandless magic, which is harder, as there is no channeling agent... but anyway, that's not important right now. Watch.'

She whipped out a wand from somewhere in her hair, and caught her glasses before they fell, placing them carefully on the floor. 'I'm going to levitate my glasses, observe.'

She pushed up her sleeves and focused on the spectacles. 'Evanesco.'

Ginny frowned, surprised. She'd used the wrong incantation. Ginny's frown deepened when she saw that, unexpectedly, the glasses were rising into the air.

'How did you do that?' she asked, once Gladys had plucked them out of the air and nestled them in her hair once again.

'Simple. Although I used the words to vanish an object, I intended for my glasses to rise, and since that is the principal determinate of any charm, that's what they did. Is it making more sense to you now?'

Ginny nodded. She understood the words, of course, but whether or not she'd be able to do it....'So it will work with my wand, too?'

'If given enough practice, I'd say that you should gain proficiency soon enough. Ollivander's wands are not intended to function solely on intent,' she smiled at her small pun, then continued, 'but there is no reason they cannot be taught to do so. Magic is a wonderfully malleable medium. There's no telling what we might do with it. Wizards in this day and age have only touched the proverbial tip of the iceberg when it comes to magic's immeasurable possibilities. As it is, we are teetering on the brink between enlightenment and destruction. We know enough to destroy everything we have ever acknowledged as real, but at the same time, we know enough to release a veritable reservoir of magical knowledge that we may have only ever had access to in the Old times. It all depends.' And then she was silent. What a bizarre woman. Ginny could only presume that she was being melodramatic. Maybe it was a trait common of all wand-makers.

'Thank-you, that was very...' Ginny trailed off.

'Informative.' Charles finished for her, grabbing her elbow, and steering her towards the door.

'We'll stop by again if anything strange happens,' Dominic called over his shoulder.

'Bye.'

'Have a nice day,' came Gladys' half interested farewell as they left the shop.

'Well, it was interesting,' Dominic quipped as they began walking back the way they'd come, 'I had no idea that our wands were so different. Are you going to try to start using yours like one of ours? With intent, and whatnot? Or better yet, like a standard?' He grinned.

'You didn't grow up anywhere near Drifters, did you?' Charles asked, scuffing her feet.

'No.' Ginny said. 'Nowhere near. I live in the country... sort of. There's a Muggle town nearby, but we rarely go in for anything except food.'

'Ah, well. It can't be helped,' Izzie shrugged.

'We'll just have to expose you to more non-magical customs while you're here,' Dominic suggested.

Charles grinned, obviously getting ideas. 'And we can start with Thrifting!'

Izzie laughed. 'Dom, I'm blaming you completely. You got her started, now you have to get her out of it.'

Dominic's eyes widened, and he held out his hands helplessly. 'What harm can it do?'

Ginny blinked. 'Where's Thrifting?'

'No, no. Thrifting's not a place. It's a way of life. Besides, we haven't gone shopping for clothes, and you definitely need some for this year. Do you have a dress for the dance?'

Ginny blinked again. 'There's a dance?'

'Ooh yes. Every year we have a Masquerade on All Hallow's Eve. Everyone gets dressed up and disguised, and we have a delightful time. Of course, you might not want to get that now, since then we'd know what you'd look like. You might also want to make one. Then again, I don't know if we'll have time in Textiles this year, since we're supposed to be working on Shaping, but you never know.'

They'd come to a short alley with graffiti on the walls. One design was a purple man who stood slouched with his hands jammed in his pockets. He was looking down at something Ginny couldn't see. She looked up again, and made a startled noise. They weren't in 13th Avenue any more.

Charles and Dominic looked sideways at her. 'Anything wrong?' he asked.

'Where did we go?' She said looking around at the short alley they'd just come out of. It ended in a white brick wall. The lugubrious purple man stood beside it, still looking at nothing.

'We just came out of the magical part. It's still 13th Avenue, though.'

Ginny looked up the street. There was a grocery store across from them, and a magazine store to their right called 'Buzzword'. There was an empty lot on their left with a small wooden bench sitting in the shade of a tall white-washed building.

A man in a tweed jacket and a beret walked past them carrying a guitar case on his back, and his shoes clipping on the cement.

8

'Harry, will you pass me the gravy?' Frank said, leaning against him, trying to reach the saucer.

Harry automatically stiffened and grabbed the dish, setting it down quickly beside her. Hadn't she said they'd be just friends? Why was she still doing this? He glanced confusedly at her face, and she winked.

'Thank-you ever so much. You're so helpful.' She smiled conspiratorially.

Harry blinked. At least he thought it was a conspiring type of smile.

Frank poured a small portion of gravy on her mashed potatoes, and handed it back to Harry. 'Put this back, won't you?' She wiped a stray droplet of gravy from the rim of her plate and licked her finger, giving him a small smirk.

Harry turned back to his meal. Staring confoundedly into his own potatoes, he puzzled about the mystery that was Frank. She shifted beside him, her leg grazing his as she re-arranged her feet.

When she was settled, she lifted her glass from the table, and looked into it. She sighed, and leaned over, whispering in his ear.

'Oh dear. Would you hand me the orange juice, Harry?' She pointed to the pitcher on his right.

Harry frowned more deeply, and lifted the container, passing it to her. Her fingers brushed his, and he bristled. He leaned closer to her, and she didn't move away.

'What are you trying to do?' he hissed, trying not to move his lips too much, as Fred and George were being awfully quiet where they were sitting across the table.

She grinned evilly and raised an eyebrow. 'Being friendly of course. Lighten up.' Her grin widened and she glanced sideways and giggled, nudging him softly on the arm. He flushed, and she glanced once again toward the twins who were trying and failing to lean forward in an inconspicuous manner.

'Get it?' she mouthed, and smirked.

Harry was once again struck by how completely out of his depth he was, and returned to eating, his thoughts tripping over each other in their confusion.