Disclaimer: Still belongs to the lovely, the talented J. K. Rowling.

Author's Note: Okay. This chapter was extremely challenging to write. It started out one way, went through four or five revisions, and then a few days ago I decided to scrap most of the original and go with this instead. Let me know what you think.

And as always, thanks so much for the feedback and special thanks to those of you who were so patient and understanding about the huge gap between updates.

Chapter 11: Breathless

I was unusually happy when the last day of Easter holiday came round. I shouldn't have been—I had not studied as much as I would have liked and I was barely current with my homework. I wasn't entirely certain if it would even be possible to manage with both homework and N. E. W. T. preparation in the coming weeks. However, the resume of classes meant that Angelina and Alicia would not be able to constantly harass me with talk of my so-called "hidden feelings." In addition to homework and N. E. W. Ts, they would also have Quidditch to occupy them. They would scarcely have time for themselves, let alone time to waste on silly theories about my life.

Despite the fact that I didn't really want to revisit the issue with Angelina and Alicia, I didn't want to avoid it completely—I wanted to talk to someone, just to confirm the inanity of the idea. Of course the only person who I could discuss it with was not speaking to me.

It might seem stupid for me to even want to speak with Viv after our encounter in Hogsmeade. Make no mistake; I was still hurt and angry about what she had said to me. I still thought she was wrong. But even though I was still quite angry with her, I couldn't deny that her absence had left a very noticeable hole in my life. She had been my best friend for years and that was not a fact that was easily erased by any argument. I also suspected she would know precisely how to manage this situation and that made the silence harder. Trying to imagine what her response wasn't terribly effective, as it was often easier for me to take her advice than my own.

Although I was feeling the weight of her absence more heavily, I wasn't about to approach her to try and reconcile. I was wary of beginning a conversation that wasn't entirely on her terms, especially after our last encounter. And even if I had wanted to approach her, she had made herself difficult to find outside the classroom as of late. Apart from the party celebrating the Quibbler article, I had scarcely seen her in Gryffindor Tower, with the exception of very early in the morning or very late in the evening.

A week ago, my life had been (relatively) normal. Then the Easter holiday came and it exploded into something very messy and overdramatic. I could think of only one way to deal with this problem and that was to ignore it for the time being.

I declared the last day of Easter holiday an all-day study session and I took over one of the tables in the common room with my books and notes. While it was a rather dull and mentally exhausting way to spend the day, it was a distraction. I didn't have the time or space to think about the problem with Viv or Alicia and Angelina's constant insinuations.

In fact, when the hour grew late and the common room began to empty out, I found myself reluctant to leave my table and go up to bed. An empty, idle mind waiting for sleep was a prime target for the thoughts I had been dodging all day. So I opted to stay up and carry on with my Potions notes.

Some time later, the sound of the portrait door creaking open broke my concentration. It was quite late—much later than the allowed curfew and I looked up to see who was out at such an hour. I was not terribly surprised.

"Are you still studying?" asked Fred, wrinkling his nose in mild disgust.

"Yes." I looked at the clock. "Shall I ask why you were out at this hour, or is it one of those things where it's best that I not know?"

"That would just spoil the fun," said George, sitting down in an unoccupied chair. My stupid stomach did its stupid cryptic flip.

"You know you've got six weeks yet," said Fred, poking at a stack of parchment.

"It's quite a lot to remember."

"You're still on holiday," George pointed out.

"Can't sleep. This is good a distraction as any."

Neither of them looked particularly convinced.

"Well, I'm being productive," I amended.

"Psh, who needs academic productivity?" asked Fred. He yawned and looked at the clock. "I'm going to bed. Got to be well rested for tomorrow."

"Yes, I know how much you look forward to classes resuming," I replied.

"Well now that Percy's gone and left the family, someone has to be the academic," he said with a grin.

"Good luck with that."

Fred climbed up the stairs to the boys' dormitory and then it was just George and I. Before, I would have thought nothing of it—now…now I felt nervous and rather awkward. I tried to focus on the notes in front of me.

"All right?"

"Yeah. Was moonstones or an infusion of wormwood that went into the Draught of Peace?" I asked, purposely avoiding his question.

"It made me sleepy," offered George.

"Sadly, that is not a distinctive property of either ingredient."

He shrugged and grinned. "I try. No, but really, are you well? You seem a bit off this week."

"It's just stress. Exams and all that," I said vaguely.

He looked as though he didn't quite believe me. I thought quickly.

"Er…well, I suppose the fact that Viv and I are still aren't speaking is…not very encouraging."

"She hasn't been particularly charming when you have spoken," he reminded me.

"I know. And I'm still upset about that. But…" I thought for a moment. "I don't know. I suppose I've needed her advice lately and that makes me realize that there's still this hole that she's left. Sometimes…sometimes, I think that missing someone makes you minimize all the shit they put you through."

"Fair enough," he said with that familiar crooked grin. "What do you need her advice for?"

I looked at my hands. "Oh, you know…just the my future employment."

"I think you can work that out on your own," he said.

"I wish."

"Nah, you just have to listen to yourself for once."

I frowned. "What d'you mean?"

"Remember your detention with Umbridge?"

"Well, yeah, I still have a bit of a mark on my hand."

"I mean that day in class, when you called her a tyrant."

"What of it?"

He shrugged. "You can be bold like that more often. You have it in you."

"I don't do bold very well. I'm a pretty shoddy Gryffindor in that respect."

"That's rubbish."

"You have to admit that I'm not much like anyone else in the house."

"You're quiet, Sophie."

I raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"There's a difference between 'quiet' and 'a pretty shoddy Gryffindor.' A world of difference. A gaping abyss of—"

"All right, I can spot where you're going with this."

He grinned. "Someone had to set you right."

"Thanks. I appreciate your help. And the vote of confidence, for that matter." I gave a small smile and glanced at the clock. "It's past one. I'm going to be dead in class tomorrow and Merlin knows I don't handle coffee very well."

"Oh, go on, have one with breakfast," cajoled George as I began to pack up my books. "I could use the entertainment."

"I'm sure you'll get by." I shoved my Potions notes messily into my bag. "Besides, Gryffindor really can't afford to lose more points what with the Inquisitorial Squad running unchecked—Angelina said Pansy Parkinson took ten from her for merely existing."

George wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Of course, then she took an additional twenty when Angelina told her it was a good thing no one took points for being ugly or else Slytherin would be in trouble."

"Excellent. She's learned well," said George proudly. I stacked up the remainder of my books and hefted them into my arms.

"All right. I'm going to bed. Don't stay up too late—I won't keep you awake in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I have enough difficulty staying awake myself."

"Duly noted," he replied with a grin.

"Goodnight."

"G'night."

Of course, once I was actually in bed, I had the most difficult time falling asleep. My conversation with George had not been unusual in any respects. It was a perfectly normal, neutral conversation. There was absolutely nothing to analyze.

But it's like when someone tells you to not think of a pink elephant—your brain sort of inadvertently responds and the next thing you know the forbidden pink elephant has danced right into your mind's eye. And the entire issue that Alicia and Angelina had brought up was far more uncomfortable than a pink elephant. It was the kind of thought that you couldn't easily forget, one that demanded attention, especially if you didn't want to think about it. The worst part was that there was no end or conclusion to be reached—it was just this unending cycle of unnecessary analysis and although it was exhausting, it was also impossible to sleep.

I finally drifted off sometime during the night, but I woke early the next morning feeling disturbed. I was fairly certain I'd had nightmares, but I couldn't remember anything about them—the uncomfortable, uneasy feeling was the only indication that I had dreamt anything at all.

None of the others were quite awake yet and I didn't feel much like talking, so I hastily dressed, gathered my books, and went down to breakfast. I was fairly early, so I had a few moments to myself, which might have been a mistake, as it would normally give me more opportunity to think. However, I was really too tired to think much at all; it looked as though it would be one of those days where I wished I had the option to sit out. I absently poked at my porridge and wondered if this mood was going to last all day.

"Didn't your mum tell you not to play with your food?" Fred sat down and took the seat across from me. George and Lee were with him.

"Eh, it's gone cold anyway," I said, pushing the bowl away. "I've been here a while."

"You look right knackered," observed Lee.

"I didn't sleep well."

"See? No good can come of studying," said Fred, helping himself to a large portion of porridge.

"Wasn't that, exactly. I had…things on my mind."

"Well, I won't keep you awake in Defense Against the Dark Arts," said George, putting on a high-pitched voice that was apparently supposed to mimic mine. He looked considerably more rested than I was.

"I sound nothing like that."

George shrugged. "I'm not very good with impressions."

"S-S-S-Sophie, you're up early," yawned Angelina, taking the empty seat beside me.

"We didn't know where you'd gone," said Alicia, sitting down next to Fred. "Pass the muffins, I'm famished."

"I didn't sleep well and I fancied an early breakfast," I said, sliding the plate over to her.

"You're certain about that coffee?" asked George. "You're rather glassy-eyed."

I yawned and shook my head. "Better not chance it."

"Her nerves are too delicate," agreed Angelina.

"Yes, I'm a fragile flower," I said, rolling my eyes.

"I don't suppose any of you lot did the homework for Charms yet?" asked Alicia.

"Ha!" laughed Fred.

"Homework," chuckled George dismissively.

"I didn't know we had an assignment," said Lee.

"I don't know why I bother," sighed Alicia.

"I haven't even looked at it yet," I said.

Angelina shook her head. "Me either. I've scarcely completed the work that's due today."

Alicia's shoulders slumped. "This term will kill me yet."

"Cheer up, love," said Lee, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "Have another muffin."

"We're almost through," said Angelina, reassuringly. "Besides, you've got plans after you graduate."

"Eeurgh, don't say that," I said, shuddering.

"'We're almost through' or 'plans after you graduate?'"

"Both."

Angelina sighed. "I can't win, can I?"

"Sophie, the position of Chief Guinea Pig has yet to be filled…" said Fred in what he must have thought was a tantalizing voice.

"No."

"Clerk?"

"No."

"We could use a bookkeeper," mused George.

"I'm terrible with numbers," I said, glancing at the clock. "All right, I'm off."

"We've got ten minutes yet," said Alicia.

I shrugged. "I'll be early. Besides," I looked at Fred and George, "I've had this conversation once before."

"It's a fantastic idea, you'll see," said Fred, raising his eyebrows.

"Right." I stood up and picked up my book bag. "See you."

"Think about it!" urged George.

"Not listening!"

I made my way down to the greenhouses and stood outside, trying my best to think of nothing. The sleep I didn't get the night before was already weighing heavily on me and I wondered if I'd be able to stay awake during class.

The answer was no, at least not in Herbology. You might think it impossible to fall asleep in a class that deals less with theory and more with hands-on experience. You would be wrong. However, nothing unpleasant managed to bite out of me and Professor Sprout didn't appear to notice, so I decided it wasn't anything to get terribly upset about. The fresh air seemed to do me some good though and I was able to remain alert even through Defense Against the Dark Arts, which was a miracle in itself.

The end of the day did not come quickly enough. As soon as the bell rang, I gathered my books and set off at a fast pace for Gryffindor Tower, taking most of the stairs two at a time. I got to my dormitory in half the time it normally took and I was asleep five minutes after hitting the bed.

It was a lovely dreamless sleep, the kind that is so heavy that you scarcely remember that you exist. When I woke, I was surprised to find that only an hour had passed. The dormitory was empty, apart from Chester, who was napping at the foot of my bed. I slipped my shoes back on, straightened my robes, and smoothed my hair. I glanced at the clock. I would be early for dinner, but it was certainly preferable to sitting alone in the darkened dormitory.

The common room was fairly empty and the corridors were relatively quiet. I took my time going down the Great Hall. I felt considerably better and my thoughts were much less jumbled. Perhaps I'd be all right after all.

I had just entered one of the third floor corridors when I heard the unmistakable sound of pounding footsteps. From the squeaking of their trainers, it sounded as though they were running rather fast. I turned the corner and saw that it was not just one person, but two sprinting down the hallway. They were redheaded and they were laughing.

Typical.

"What've you done?" I asked as they came closer.

"You'll…find out," gasped Fred with a wicked grin.

"Soon," added George.

"You've—" said Fred to his twin cryptically.

"I know."

"What've you done?" I repeated, trying to ignore the unnerving twin conversation they were presently having. They were closer now and George had slowed to a jog, presumably so he could catch his breath and explain what the bloody hell was going on.

Of course, that is not what he did. George Weasley is many things, but he is rarely predictable.

So instead of answering my question, he took my face in his hands, leaned down, and kissed me.

It was not a 'let's be friends' sort of kiss.

I had no idea what to feel In fact, I felt as though I was feeling too much altogether. I was shocked, certainly, and quite confused. My stomach flipped as though I had eaten one too many Peppermint Toads and my knees had gone all rubbery. Any thoughts I had were not coherent by any stretch of the imagination.

All I really knew was that George was kissing me and it was rather nice.

He broke away grinning that crooked grin of his.

"See you later."

And he sprinted after his brother down the hall.

I stood there with my mouth hanging open for a good moment before I had the sense to call after him. By then he had disappeared round the corner and I knew I had little hope of catching up to him.

I didn't know what to think. I didn't know if I was capable of thought any more. George Weasley had just kissed me in a decidedly non-platonic manner. In that moment our relationship had changed completely. It made my head spin.

My knees were still knocking together. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. I was far from calm, but I thought I was perhaps capable of making a decision. I couldn't go after George now—I had little hope of finding either him or Fred until much later when the uproar of whatever they had caused had settled some. And I couldn't very well continue standing in the middle of the corridor like a fool until then.

Dinner. I would go to dinner. Dinner would give me something to do. I doubted it would clear my head any, but it would be sufficiently distracting.

I got down to the Great Hall rather quickly, despite the fact that I was still reeling from what had just happened. I sat down at the table next to Alicia and across from Angelina. My legs were still rubbery.

"I thought you had a bit of a lie-down?" asked Angelina as I absently reached for the pumpkin juice.

"I did."

"I'm not certain it helped," said Alicia. "You're awfully pale."

"I'm all right."

"Why don't you go back up?" suggested Angelina. "We could bring you something—"

The rumble of many voices from the entrance hall interrupted Angelina's offer. Normally, this wouldn't be something to pay mind to, as there was generally a great amount of noise during the dinner hour as students began to file in. But as I listened more closely, I realized a great number of people were shouting, which was not at all characteristic of the dinner hour.

"What is it?" asked Angelina.

"Dunno, but it sounds good," said Alicia, rising from her seat. "Let's go."

I trailed after Angelina and Alicia and joined the crowd of other students who were going to investigate.

I was not entirely prepared for the scene that awaited us. Many students were covered head to toe in what appeared to be mud and there was a distinct odor that one generally associates with outdoor lavatories. In the middle of the crowd stood Fred and George, surrounded by the Inquisitorial Squad, Filch, and Umbridge.

"So!" smirked Umbridge. Her expression was a combination of fury and smugness. "So…you think it amusing to turn a school corridor into a swamp, do you?"

"I'll be damned," murmured Alicia beside me.

"Unbelievable," said Angelina, shaking her head.

"Pretty amusing, yeah," replied Fred boldly.

"I've got the form, Headmistress," said Filch. He looked happy. I had never seen Filch happy. I shuddered involuntarily. It was strange and altogether disconcerting, like seeing Professor McGonagall in a pub of ill repute. "I've got the form and I've got the whips waiting…Oh, let me do it now…"

"Whips?" I hissed to Angelina and Alicia. Other students were making similar comments amongst themselves.

"She wouldn't…" said Alicia, her eyes wide. "It's not allowed…"

"Very good, Argus," said Umbridge. "You two," she gestured at Fred and George, "are about to learn what happens to wrongdoers in my school."

This last sentence was deeply unsettling not only because it indicated that some sort of unusual punishment would be employed. What was most unsettling was how she called Hogwarts 'her school.' I had missed Dumbledore ever since he had left, but it was at that moment that I fully realized what his absence would mean.

I wanted to vomit, preferably on Professor Umbridge.

"You know what? I don't think we are," replied Fred conversationally. "George, I think we've outgrown full-time education."

"Yeah, I've been feeling that way myself," agreed George.

"What are they doing?" hissed Alicia.

"Time to test our talents in the real world, d'you reckon?" mused Fred.

"Definitely," agreed George.

With that, they both whipped out their wands and shouted "Accio Brooms!"

There was an almighty crash and several people screamed. Suddenly two broomsticks came flying down the hall toward Fred and George, an iron peg and chain was still attached to one of them. I knew that Umbridge had confiscated both their brooms, but I hadn't been aware of the additional security measures she had taken. The twins caught their brooms easily.

"We won't be seeing you," said Fred to Umbridge as he mounted his broom.

"Yeah, don't bother to keep in touch," added George.

Fred looked around at all of us.

"If anyone fancies buying a Portable Swamp, as demonstrated upstairs, come to number ninety-three Diagon Alley—Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Our new premises!" he announced.

"Typical," muttered Angelina.

"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who swear they're going to use our products to get rid of this old bat," said George, gesturing at Umbridge.

"STOP THEM!" shrieked Umbridge.

But she was too late. Before either Filch or the Inquisitorial Squad could so much as lift a finger, the twins shot up from the ground, the iron peg swinging treacherously from George's broom. Fred looked at Peeves, who had been hovering above the crowd, oddly silent this entire time.

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."

Peeves solemnly took his hat from his head and saluted the twins. Fred and George grinned at the poltergeist, waved at the gaping students, and zoomed through the open doors and away from Hogwarts.

*

No one could talk about anything else for the remainder of dinner. Fred and George had quickly ascended to godlike status and it was clear that they would become one of Hogwarts many legends. Umbridge was beside herself. I ought to have been pleased. More than pleased, actually—I had grown to delight in Umbridge's misfortunes. However, I found myself unable to summon the energy to be excited about her foiled plans. Instead, I picked at my food and said very little.

This added a rather unpleasant dimension to what had happened in the corridor. Perhaps it was all part of the last hurrah; perhaps he was caught up in the moment; perhaps I was just the last person to fool before the big finale. Although there was a big part of me that was saying that George wouldn't do something like that, it was difficult not to focus on the what-ifs on the situation.

These thoughts quickly raised the question of why I cared. If I had strictly platonic feelings toward George, it wouldn't matter if he had kissed me as a joke. I would have been angry with him, certainly, but would I have felt hurt as well? Wouldn't I have worried that it wasn't a joke?

My head spun unpleasantly. I excused myself early from dinner and went back to Gryffindor Tower.

Once in my room, I sat cross-legged on my bed and pulled Chester into my lap. The problem that had precipitated all of this had blossomed into multi-headed Hydra. Every time I tried to solve one, two others would take its place. I certainly could not leave them alone, either—to do so would be stupid and hazardous.

I sighed heavily. Yesterday, I thought my life couldn't become more complicated. Then George kissed me in the corridor and things were even messier than they had been before.

At least he was a good kisser. He did not appear to possess an inner sheepdog, which was good news in any situation, I suppose. His lips were softer than I expected and he tasted of something sweet, though I wasn't certain what exactly.

This last thought made me realize two things, the first of which might seem rather obvious: I had kissed him back. I couldn't have noticed those things if I had been some sort of unwilling, shocked bystander. I was shocked, definitely. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I could not accurately qualify myself as unwilling. Unwilling participants are more prone to shoving the person away and slapping them across the face. Unwilling participants are less likely to notice that someone with some experience was kissing them.

The second part was the fact that I had used the phrase "his lips were softer than I expected." I generally don't speculate about the relative softness of people's lips. I imagine it would be strange if I did. But I had some sort of idea of how soft I expected George's lips to be. It might have been a deeply buried thought, but it was apparently there. And the distressing part about it was that was certainly not a normal thought that one has about a strictly platonic relationship.

My stomach did a strange sort of flip. It wasn't a particularly happy or sad sensation. It was one that clearly said, "well, now don't you feel stupid."

There appeared to be a very strong possibility that Angelina and Alicia were right.

The idea that they were right didn't seem quite as foreign as it had in the past week, although it was still not entirely comfortable. With this realization came the rather unpleasant sensation of having my entire world turned on its end. I had come to think of myself as the ultimate authority on myself. There was no reason for me to believe that I wouldn't know something about myself, not to mention something that seemed so obvious and fundamental.

I thought back to the past evening when George had told me I needed to listen to the bolder part of myself. The only thing was I wasn't sure if I wanted to listen anymore. If listening meant admitting I didn't know myself as well as I thought, would it be easier to continue the charade?

I didn't have a good answer to that question, though I suspected that if I had asked George that the night before, he would have told me that ignorance was never the preferable option.

I chewed my lip. George. Had he gotten carried away? Why today, why not earlier when he would have had time to explain himself properly?

I couldn't think of a proper answer to any of those questions, either. And despite the fact that I still wasn't entirely comfortable admitting that there was some merit to the "secret feelings" theory, not having those answers made me more uncomfortable. If it turned out that the whole event had been part of the show, what would I do? The things I had just learned wouldn't merely disappear. If anything, they would hurt me. I did not like to consider the prospect of being hurt. I especially did not like to consider the prospect of being hurt in that way by someone I trusted.

I inhaled sharply and was surprised to find myself blinking back tears. Nothing had happened—well, apart from the whole hallway scene and the twins' subsequent departure from school. But a lot of what I was feeling was based on conjecture and I didn't exactly have irrefutable proof that things would go so awfully.

However, even feeling based on conjecture can be horribly strong and after a week of whirlwind thoughts and overall mental exhaustion, I was not entirely capable of thinking rationally. I buried my face in my hands and burst into tears.

It felt good to cry. It was an immense relief. I had been keeping so much bottled up inside of me and it needed to be let go. Chester did not feel the same way and crawled out of my lap and resituated himself at the foot of my bed. I didn't take it personally—he had never liked it when I cried. Mum used to say he was a typical male in that respect.

The quiet, but unmistakable sound of the door creaking open quickly silenced me. I choked back a sob and kept my head buried in my hands. It would be just my luck for Angelina or Alicia to see me like this. They were dear friends, but at the moment I didn't want to listen to any I-told-you-so's or variations thereof.

"Sophie?"

I looked up, thinking that I had heard wrong. I hadn't.

It was Vivian.

*

A/N: Umbridge, Filch, Fred, and George's dialogue from "So…so you think it amusing…" through "Give her hell from us, Peeves" originally appears in Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. The narrative bits in between (along with Angelina and Alicia's lines) were written by me.

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