Epilogue

As any Hogwarts student from first years on up can tell you, Fred and George Weasley made a daring escape before they could manage to finish their seventh year. As most Hogwarts students, first years or otherwise, could not tell you, I was absolutely furious for all of a week.

The truth was that most of us could see they weren't going to last at Hogwarts. Not with that Umbridge woman in charge. Frankly if they'd let me go with them, I might have seriously considered the offer. In fact, when George told me what they were planning, I did ask to go. It's not one of my prouder moments I suppose -- Merlin knows I'll never tell my parents -- but at the time I wasn't sure how I could really survive Umbridge's reign with two of my best friends gone.

Long story short, he wouldn't let me come. He kept going on about how I had a future, and they could start a joke shop without a graduation certificate but there were so many things I could do, and I had to keep my options open, and I just had to stick it out, and, and, and --. So when I was finished letting the total sentimentality (and let's face it, complete sweetness) of that get to me, I had to admit that he was right.

Then I forced him to promise frequent visits, and lots of letters. And chocolate. Because if you're going to leave behind your best friend/girlfriend in the middle of what is fast becoming a catastrophe with a school's name slapped on the front, you owe her a lot of chocolate.

Anyway, once my week of fury was over, and I was done ranting to Angelina, and Angelina was done ranting to me (bloody Weasley twins, where in hell do they get off leaving us in the middle of this mess, for Merlin's sake, absolutely no sense of--), and Katie was done listening and nodding sympathetically, I had to admit that I admired them for it. Of course, I wasn't sure if I could avoid admiring George at this point, but when the weekly letters came -- complete with chocolate from Honeydukes and arrangements for visits in Hogsmeade, and the suggestion that I spend the summer holidays with the Weasleys since hey, I wasn't seeing much of them in school any more was I? -- well, could I stay mad?

I suppose it's about time I wrapped this story up, really. The importance of noticing the little things has been, I hope, driven home. The utter misery and ecstasy of being me is rather obvious. The complete supremacy of George Weasley as a best friend and boyfriend are quite evident.

So there are only a few things left to say.

The first is that this was the third letter I received from George Weasley after his quick and messy departure from the Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry:

Alicia --

I've decided to just buy you a gift certificate to Honeydukes, as it saves the problem of chocolate melting in the mail once the weather warms up. And, obviously, it gives you a much-needed excuse to come to Hogsmeade and see me.

Out of what I assure you was purely idle curiosity, Fred and I have done a few quiet investigations into the market for a joke shop in Guatemala, and we've decided the prospects aren't as good as we'd like.

Please remember that the above remark is completely and utterly innocent, and that I have absolutely no prior knowledge of any revelations you may or may not have had.

Love,
The Good Twin

Angelina admitted pretty quickly that she'd told him, and Katie instantly backed my plan to replace all of her Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans with the Booger and Ear Wax flavors. I am pleased to report that while it took some work it was utterly worth it.

The second thing is that I did finally decide on a career, for those of you who were wondering (I know, I know -- the suspense, it's been driving you mad!). It was an incredibly rainy spring afternoon and I was procrastinating, something I do remarkably well. I was, in fact, considering becoming a professional procrastinator when the idea hit me.

I wanted a career noticing the little things. After all, that method had brought me nothing but good luck so far, in the end anyway.

So when we had our final career conferences before graduation I told Professor McGonagall I'd decided on being an author. She looked quite approving, but maybe she was only thinking about how disapproving Umbridge would look. I have to admit that made me quite happy too.

My life was far from perfect when I graduated from Hogwarts in my 7th year. It was a cloudy Thursday morning actually, and I almost tripped walking up the stairs to receive my certificate. And of course there was the "the Dark Lord has returned, your lives are in danger, and by the way if I were you I wouldn't go out after dark" bit. But I didn't mind on this particular day. Angelina, Katie, Lee and I had arranged to meet the twins for dinner later, and a few of us knew enough to know that Fred had been carrying a ring around in his pocket for weeks. Katie in fact was already paging through catalogues to find a good dress.

I can't think of a very good way to end this really, because of course it's not over. That though, is quite the cliché. In fact there's a little voice in my head even now that's telling me that I've already been too sentimental, too mushy, and too sweet. For those of you who are curious, the voice sounds suspiciously like Angelina.

Unfortunately the real Angelina is yelling at me from the other room (something about veils, and that bloody Fred Weasley, and the complete impossibility of eating in this dress) so I really should go. Merlin knows we wouldn't want Angie fainting from hunger in her wedding dress. It would be ruined, and Katie would panic of course, and Angelina would be furious, and I'd probably be caught in the middle refereeing, and of course, fixing the dress.

The strangest, and possibly most frightening thing of all, is that the prospect doesn't particularly bother me.

I've clearly laid claim to my own special brand of insanity: I'm dating a Weasley, I've agreed to help plan Angelina Johnson's wedding, and I can't stop writing even as the shouts erupt from the other room.

I'm afraid that in order to preserve my eardrums, whatever sanity I have left, and possibly my life, I'm going to have to cut myself off.