Sara was seated at her kitchen table pouring over her most recent summer book. It was raining, so she was trapped inside while her father was at work. He had left her a note that morning that said to be packed up and ready to "go" by this afternoon. It was only mid-August, but she assumed she'd be leaving for the summer, so she packed her trunk for the next school year and hauled it downstairs. That was hours ago. Sara had watched TV, made lunch, and gotten a good chunk of her book read since that time. She was so immersed in her reading that the loud crack that echoed through the room made her scream and fall out of her chair.
"Calm down, you."
Sara looked up at the figure before her. The tall, gangly redhead seemed almost incomplete without his other half, but she was slightly relieved that he had come alone. He extended a hand, which she took gratefully.
"What are you doing here?" she asked as he lifted her to her feet.
But her question went unanswered as he pulled her against him and planted an eager kiss on her parted lips. Her fingers found and tangled themselves in his now short hair, and her tongue playfully countered his as it swept over her own. He pulled away almost regrettably and laid his forehead against hers.
"I've been waiting to do that for weeks," he mumbled.
"You didn't answer my question," she said reproachfully.
"I'm here to collect you. Your father's orders," he winked.
"And where are we going?" she asked.
"A safe house. Here, memorize this, but don't say anything out loud," he said, fishing a piece of paper out of his pocket and handing it to her.
The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
She looked back up at George with a raised eyebrow. He plucked the paper from her hands and set fire to it with his wand.
"Don't forget that, now," he wagged his finger as he reached down to grab her trunk.
"George, will we be staying together for the summer?" she asked with a slight smirk.
"Very eager, aren't you?" he chuckled, but nodded almost shyly.
"George, have you told your mum about us?" she asked, playing with her hands.
"Not yet. Fred and I figured we could get you all set up in our room, then tell her maybe tonight, or tomorrow maybe. It's not like it's just you and me in the room, Fred will be there too. We'll just see how she is," he suggested.
Sara smiled and moved toward him once more. She stood on her tiptoes to press her lips softly against his once more. Her hands rested on his chest.
"How do you know how to read my mind?" she asked coyly.
"Maybe that's why we're a couple," he winked. "Hold on tight now."
Another crack and Sara felt her insides churn as the house around her disappeared. When they hit solid ground, it took all of Sara's bearings to force the vomit back down her throat. She shuddered, and George rubbed her arm apologetically. They were in a dark alleyway that offered no protection from the heavy rain. They ran from the alley toward the apartments just across the street. They stopped just in front of number eleven. Off to its right was number ten, and to the left was number thirteen. She looked up curiously at George.
"Think about what you read," he advised.
She remembered the sheet of paper. Number twelve, Grimmauld Place. As the thought crossed her mind, the apartments numbered eleven and thirteen separated and revealed the building numbered twelve. Sara blinked rapidly, partly from the rain and partly from the shock of seeing a building appear from nowhere. George ushered her up to the landing and tapped on the door with his wand. Sara heard many locks and bolts behind the door before it swung open. She and George stepped inside and shut it behind them. George shut the various locks that lined the door while Sara did her best to shake off the water.
"Here," George muttered behind her.
With a flick of his wand, he dried their clothes and Sara sighed contentedly. She looked around the hallway that they were in and opened her mouth to ask George where they were.
"Try to keep quiet through here, don't want to wake her up," he whispered and gestured toward a set of dark velvet curtains.
She nodded dutifully, and George led her through the dark, dreary house. They wandered up the flight of stairs before George suddenly disappeared with a loud crack. Sara jumped and looked around, very aware of how ominous the house actually was. Another crack, and George was next to her again. She gasped at the sound and clutched her chest.
"I'd appreciate some warning," she chided.
"Here's your warning," he chuckled as he took her arm.
"George, wait-" she cried.
They disappeared once more, reappearing in another dreary room. There was a bed, two cots, a very ornate dresser, and an equally gaudy desk. There were spots on the wall that were lighter than the rest, indicating pictures that had been recently taken down.
"Is it easier the second time?" George teased.
"Shut up," she growled, pinching his arm.
"I just want you to get used to it. Fred and I resort to it a lot, and we'll probably be dragging you along now that you're here. A lot of secrets get told here, it's the best way to get answers," he said.
"Where are we?" she asked, dropping down onto the bed.
"This is Sirius Black's home, and the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix," he explained, taking a seat next to her.
"…Sirius Black," she said incredulously.
"Yeah, he's innocent of everything, and he's part of the Order too."
"Silly, I know that. Think about who my godfather is," she laughed.
"Oh yeah, sorry," he said bashfully.
"What is this… Order thing?" she asked.
"The Order of the Phoenix. It's a group Dumbledore started, to fight You-Know-Who," he explained. "We're not really allowed to know much more than that, since we aren't a part of it. Actually, your dad stops by every once in a while."
"My dad's a part of the Order?" she asked incredulously.
"Yeah, but everyone's all hush-hush about it, so I'm not surprised you don't know anything. We only know because we're living amongst it," he said.
"Is this our room?" she asked, looking around the very dreary room once more.
"It is. We saved the bed for you, but I had to convince Fred a little. He actually conned me into taking a few extra turns on our Skiving Snackbox testing," he grumbled.
"Skiving Snackboxes, eh?" she raised an eyebrow.
"This demure environment has yet to stifle our creativity," he winked.
She didn't offer him a response, only pushed him down on the bed and landed on top of him. She pressed her lips to his and ran her fingers through his short hair. He in turn wrapped his arms around her waist and ran his tongue along her bottom lip. They were so lost in the kiss that they didn't hear the creaking floorboards until they were just outside the room. They sat bolt upright and attempted to reconfigure themselves in time to hear the door open. The mirror image of George stepped into the room and smiled brightly at the sight of Sara.
"Hey there, little girl," he said excitedly, swooping down and tackling her into a hug.
"Hello, love," she laughed.
"Sorry I interrupted. Nice hair, mate," he winked at George.
Sara looked up and noticed how askew she'd left George's hair. She tried to hide her laughter and failed miserably. George rolled his eyes and flattened his hair, the red spreading across his cheeks. Fred plopped down on Sara's other side and put an arm around her shoulders.
"Well, now that you're here, I suppose it would be a good time to proposition her," George muttered, shaking off their interruption.
"Proposition me?" she repeated.
"Well Miss Sara, little Georgie and I have plans to open up a joke shop in the near future," Fred explained.
"If you'll recall, Harry gave us his prize money from the Triwizard Tournament last year and told us to live our dream," George continued.
"Our dream being the shop of course."
"We started small, just putting ads in the Daily Prophet and whatnot-"
"-and started a mail-order service. People seem to want our products!"
"We've been testing out new things too-"
"-mostly on each other."
"And where does my proposition fit in with this?" Sara interrupted their mini-tirade.
"Be patient!" they both said.
"So when we go back to school, hopefully the new things we're working on will be sellable-" George continued.
"-or at the very least safe enough to test on other people."
"We want to know if you'd be interested in being our 'manager' for lack of a better term," George suggested.
"Manage the unmanageable Weasley twins? An impossible feat," she chuckled.
"We'd just need someone responsible who has a good word in with teachers and Dumbledore, in case things go awry. I mean, having a Prefect on our side, that would just take the cake," Fred corrected.
"You'd be more damage control, really. We figured since we already trust you so much, it wouldn't be a difficult jump," George added.
"There is… One more thing," Fred said hesitantly. "We're not very good with the money management aspect of it all."
"We need someone to help us keep track of our finances," George said almost embarrassed.
"You can feel free to say no," they both blurted out at once.
"What reason would I have to say no?" she laughed, wrapping an arm around each of the boys' shoulders. "I never did quite learn how to say no to you two."
"So you'll do it then?" Fred asked excitedly.
"Of course," she rolled her eyes.
Yelling from the floor below interrupted the twins' celebration. They rolled their eyes in unison.
"Sounds like Harry's made it," Fred chuckled.
"How can you possibly tell?" Sara asked incredulously.
"Well, Harry's been about as in the dark as you have about the whole Order of the Phoenix thing," George explained.
"But he's been stuck at his aunt and uncle's house, and Dumbledore forced Ron and Hermione not to tell him anything important," Fred added.
"I guess that makes sense," she recalled Harry telling her about living with his aunt and uncle after accidentally blowing up his uncle's sister.
"Perhaps we should make an appearance," Fred suggested.
He dropped to the ground and pulled up a floorboard. He pulled out what appeared to be flesh-colored string
"Grab on," George extended an arm to Sara.
She rolled her eyes and took his arm. They disappeared with a crack and reappeared in what she assumed was Ron and Harry's new bedroom. Hermione screamed, Harry and Ron both jumped nearly a foot in the air, and the two owls in the room hooted endlessly.
"Stop doing that," Hermione pleaded, leading Sara to believe this Apparating had become a regular thing in the house.
"Afternoon, kids," Sara said.
"Hello, Harry," George smiled. "We thought we heard your dulcet tones."
"You don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry, let it all out," Fred laughed. "There might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn't hear you."
"You two passed your Apparation tests, then?" Harry asked.
"With distinction," Fred corrected.
"It would have taken you about thirty seconds longer to walk down the stairs," Ron chided them.
"Time is Galleons, little brother. Anyway, Harry, you're interfering with reception. Extendable Ears," Fred gestured to the item in his hands. "We're trying to hear what's going on downstairs."
Sara and the twins made their way out onto the landing, followed by Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Fred lowered the Extendable Ear down the stairs toward the closed door at the bottom of the landing. Snippets of the conversation drifted up to them.
"If anyone has a right to know, it's Harry. If it wasn't for Harry, we wouldn't even know Voldemort was back," Sirius's voice rang out clearly. "He's not a child, Molly."
"But he's not an adult either!" Mrs. Weasley argued. "He's not James, Sirius."
"Well, he's not your son," Sirius defended.
"He's as good as," Mrs. Weasley retorted. "Who else has he got?"
"He's got me," Sirius said.
"How touchingly paternal, Black. Perhaps Potter will grow up to be a felon, just like his godfather," Snape's cold voice rang out.
"Now, you stay out of this, Snivellus," Sirius retorted. "I don't care what Dumbledore says about your stupid reformation. I know better."
"So why don't you tell him?" Snape asked harshly.
Only bits and pieces of the conversation wafted up to them as Hermione's cat began to bat at the other end of the Extendable Ear as if it was a plaything. George attempted to pull the ear away from Crookshanks, but the cat was quicker. It ripped the ear off the string and ran away with it. Sara was shaking with laughter, but Fred tossed her a glare as George wound up the string.
"Those are difficult to make," Fred balked.
"It's a bit… Hard to… Care," she said between bouts of laughter.
While Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione made their way downstairs, the twins took Sara's arm and Apparated to their room to return the broken Extendable Ears and then Apparated back downstairs. They appeared right behind Mrs. Weasley, who gave a start.
"Just because you're allowed to use magic now does not mean you have to whip out your wands for everything!" she shouted as they ran. She caught sight of Sara and her expression immediately softened. "Oh, dear, glad to see you made it alright."
She wrapped Sara in a tight hug before turning to Harry. A hand clasped her shoulder and she looked up to see her godfather standing to her left.
"Uncle Remus," she said happily, hugging him as well.
"You're looking well," he said, looking down at her.
"You're looking tired," she replied honestly. "Full moon's just passed, hasn't it?"
"Come, let's go eat," he ignored her statement, wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and led her into the kitchen.
She took a seat between George and Lupin. They ladled out stew and sliced up bread for everyone. Mrs. Weasley remained hard at work at the stove. Sara watched George make faces at Crookshanks, who seemed to be eyeing him with particular interest. The conversations around the table varied, and Sara caught snippets of each one before quickly losing interest. She and George had started an interesting game of footsie under the table. However, when talk turned serious, their game ended. Sirius showed Harry a copy of the Daily Prophet, which had taken to deliberately smearing his and Dumbledore's names whenever possible. It was the general consensus that Fudge was trying to cover up Voldemort's return as best as he could.
"We think," Sirius announced, "Voldemort wants to build up his army again. Fourteen years ago, he had huge numbers at his command. And not just witches and wizards, but all manner of dark creatures. He's been recruiting heavily, and we've been attempting to do the same. But gathering followers isn't the only thing he's interested in." The entire table was listening intently now. "We believe Voldemort may be after something. Something he didn't have last time."
Sirius was ignoring Moody's attempts to shut him up. Mrs. Weasley had ceased her cooking to stare almost murderously at Sirius.
"You mean, like a weapon?" Harry asked.
"No," Mrs. Weasley interrupted firmly, throwing down her knife. "That's enough. He's just a boy. You say much more and you might as well induct him into the Order straight away."
"Good, I want to join! If Voldemort's raising an army, then I want to fight!" Harry exclaimed.
Sara bit her lip nervously and looked over at George. He shrugged almost imperceptibly. Mrs. Weasley ushered all of them off to bed, and Sara and George wordlessly decided that tonight was not the night to rile up Mrs. Weasley anymore. They retired to their room and waited for the footsteps to disappear.
"We're going to talk to Ron and Harry," Fred said definitively.
"Good, I need to change," Sara replied.
The boys disappeared with a loud crack and Sara could have sworn that she heard the crack of them reappearing below. She rummaged through her trunk and pulled out her pajamas. She changed quickly, unsure of how soon they might be back. She had just pulled her shirt down when the crack echoed through the room once more. Both boys had their eyes closed.
"I'm dressed, it's fine," she laughed.
"Well, your throne awaits, my princess," Fred gestured toward the bed.
"Shut up, I'm doing your bookkeeping for free, aren't I?" she retorted.
"Doing a little more than just our bookkeeping though, aren't you?" Fred taunted.
"Oh, Fred Gideon Weasley!" she yelled.
She made to throw her pillow at him, but he Disapparated with a wink and a crack. George rolled his eyes and laughed. Sara glared at the spot where Fred had stood only moments before. She turned her attention to George as he moved closer to her. He rested a hand against her cheek and smiled down at her.
"I'm glad you're here," he murmured, emphasizing it with a short kiss.
"Well I'm glad I'm here too," she said.
She snuggled under the warm blankets and George moved his cot right up next to the bed. Fred Apparated back into the room, dropped onto his own cot, and turned off the lights with a wave of his wand. Sara reached down and took George's hand in her own before falling into a very restful slumber.
Sara was awoken rather abruptly the next morning when a heavy body dropped onto her own. She cried out, but her mouth was swiftly covered. She cracked open her eyes and immediately rolled them.
"What are you doing?" she mumbled, though it came out more like "Huah har hoo ooin?"
George laughed and replaced his hand with his lips. He feverishly kissed Sara, which successfully woke her up. Just as she found herself enjoying the taste of his minty toothpaste, he pulled away.
"Suppose that's all it'll take to wake you up now," he chuckled. "Mum says we're cleaning today, so you have to get up."
"Can we just stay here all day?" she groaned.
"Don't tempt me," he smirked.
"I'll let you do naughty things to me," she murmured seductively.
George's face flushed a bit and Sara kissed the tip of his nose cutely. He rolled his eyes and stood up, seeming to have some trouble removing the blush from his cheeks.
"Breakfast is ready downstairs. I have to go wake up Ron and Harry," he said quickly before disappearing with a crack.
Sara smiled as she sat up and stretched. She vowed to make George blush more often as she gathered up her clothes and headed for the bathroom. When she wandered downstairs, she discovered only Mrs. Weasley and her father.
"Daddy!" she exclaimed.
"Oh, Sara," he smiled.
He stood from his chair and scooped her up into a giant hug that pulled her up off the floor. She was taken aback, but laughed as she patted her father's shoulder.
"Daddy, what on earth?" she asked.
"Darlin', I got the results of yehr O.W.L.s in the mail today. Outstanding in every subject. Y'are yehr mother's daughter," he laughed.
"I didn't… No way," she murmured.
"See for yehrrself," he said, passing her the letter.
Sure enough, next to each of her 10 subjects, the letter O was written in bold letters. She smiled down at the parchment.
"Sara, darling, congratulations!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "We'll have to celebrate somehow."
"Celebrate what?" Fred asked as he and George entered the room.
"Sara's O.W.L. results! All Outstandings!" Mrs. Weasley beamed.
"We always knew you had it in you! Our little nerd," Fred teased.
George looked between Sara and her father, and Sara realized what he wanted to do. He looked over at Fred, who—by some sort of twin telepathy—seemed to understand.
"I'm, ah, gonna make sure the girls are up," he excused himself, quickly edging out the door.
"Darlin', this is wonderful," her father said cheerily.
"Daddy, while I've got you here, there's something I want to tell you," Sara sidled closer to George.
"And mum, I need to tell you as well," George said.
"What is it, dear?" she asked.
"Well, ah, it's… Well, Sara and I, we're sort of…" he stuttered.
"Dating," Sara finished his sentence.
For a moment, their parents merely stared at them. But then, in unison, their faces broke out in wide smiles.
"I always knew it would be either you or Fred," Mrs. Weasley laughed.
"I'd assumed it would be you, George. She talks a little more about you," Liam winked.
"Wait… You're not… Surprised?" Sara asked incredulously.
"Well, dear, if it was bound to happen, the timing is really the only thing that could surprise us," Mrs. Weasley explained.
"You take care of my daughter at school this year, George," her father said seriously. "And don't you or Fred get her into any trouble. I have to be off to work though."
He kissed his daughter swiftly on the forehead, smirked knowingly at George, and Disapparated.
"Are you hungry, dears?" Mrs. Weasley asked, gesturing for them to sit.
They were very aware of Mrs. Weasley's constant grinning throughout the day. More than once, Sara caught her eye, and she would always look away with a satisfied smile.
The house was not in the best shape. Thick layers of dirt covered most of the surfaces. Today, they were attempting to rid the house of doxies and grime. When Mrs. Weasley disappeared downstairs to yell at Mundungus for bringing stolen cauldrons to the house, a house elf sidled into the room muttering to himself. Sara looked over at George, but he just rolled his eyes.
"Hello, Kreacher," Fred said loudly as he closed the door.
"Kreacher did not see Young Master," the elf said faking a look of surprise. He bowed low, then muttered, "Nasty little brat of a blood traitor it is."
"Sorry? Didn't catch that last bit," George glared at the elf.
"Kreacher said nothing," he replied, but the undertone continued. "And there's it's twin, unnatural little beasts they are."
Sara was in astonishment as the elf went on to insult Hermione, who was nothing but polite to him. His eyes stopped on Harry and he examined him.
"Is it true? Is it Harry Potter? Kreacher can see the scar, it must be true, that's that boy who stopped the Dark Lord, Kreacher wonders how he did it…"
"Don't we all, Kreacher?" Fred interrupted his musings.
"What do you want anyway?" George snapped.
"Kreacher is cleaning," he replied.
He continued surveying the group. His eyes passed over Sara and onto Ginny, then snapped back to stare at Sara. He drew in a great breath before flinging himself to the floor in a bow.
"Ah… Well, hello there," Sara said, looking down at the elf at her feet.
"What are you doing, Kreacher?" said a voice at the door.
It was Sirius, and the glare he gave Kreacher was one of utter contempt. Kreacher looked up at the voice and begrudgingly crawled to Sirius's feet.
"Kreacher is cleaning," he repeated. "Kreacher lives to serve the noble house of Black-"
"-and it's getting blacker every day, it's filthy," Sirius interrupted coldly.
It was evident that Sirius loathed Kreacher, but Sara wasn't really listening to their argument. She was looking down at the elf with interest. He had bowed to her after insulting all of her other companions…
"Now go away, Kreacher," Sirius ordered.
Kreacher obeyed with a last, longing look back at Sara before exiting the room. All the while, he muttered loud enough for them to hear.
"-comes back from Azkaban ordering Kreacher around, oh my poor Mistress, what would she say if she saw the house now, scum living in it, her treasures thrown out, she swore he was no son of hers and he's back, they say he's a murderer too. Oh, why could Kreacher not serve the girl, her mother was more deserving than this-"
"Keep muttering and I will be a murderer!" Sirius shouted. He slammed the door and looked immediately at Sara. "Seems I'm not the one he really wants to listen to," he murmured, his voice laced with frustration.
"I… I'm sorry, Sirius," Sara apologized, looking rather embarrassed.
"Why did he bow to you?" George asked Sara.
"Well… He… I mean," she stuttered.
"It's no wonder, you look just like her," Sirius sighed, losing the edge in his voice.
"What are you taking about?" Fred asked.
"Do you remember what my father told me last year? My mother was a Black.."
The room was uncomfortably silent as they digested the information Sara had just given them.
"The only other Black that I got on with who wasn't later disowned, actually," Sirius broke the silence.
He wandered over to a tapestry that hung the length of the wall—likely what Kreacher had been trying to salvage—and the others followed closely behind him. It was titled "The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black: 'Toujours Pur.'"A family tree dating back to the Middle Ages was sprawled across it.
"You're not on here!" Harry exclaimed.
"I used to be there," he corrected, pointing to a blackened hole in the tapestry that looked as if it had been burned off. "My sweet old mother blasted me off after I ran away from home—Kreacher's quite fond of muttering the story under his breath."
"You ran away from home?" Harry repeated.
"When I was about sixteen. I'd had enough," Sirius sighed.
He told them how he'd gone to the Potter's home and basically been adopted as a second son. He told them how his brother, Regulus, had joined, left, and been killed by the Death Eaters. When Mrs. Weasley brought in lunch, most everyone moved over to her and ate hungrily—everyone except Sirius, Harry, and Sara. Sirius was musing about the various pictures to Harry, but Sara wasn't listening. She'd fallen to her knees on the dirty floor to stare at one of the pictures. It was a branch of the tree one section away from Sirius's family. There had originally been four pictures in the line, but the second one had been burnt in a similar fashion as Sirius's. The names read Bellatrix, Andromeda (the burnt picture), Narcissa, and Emmeline. The three sisters pictured looked incredibly different from one another. Bellatrix had dark hair and dark, hooded eyes. Narcissa had hair both black and white-blond to the point where it was hard to tell which color she had started with; her eyes were a piercing blue like her son's. Emmeline had golden blond hair bright as the sun and lovely emerald eyes. Emmeline's picture was connected to a picture of a man with dirty blond hair and blue eyes: Liam Roth. Beneath them was a picture of a toddler strikingly similar to her mother: Sara Roth. Sara ran her finger over the picture of Emmeline.
"Your mother was quite something," Sirius muttered, now leaning down next to Sara.
"Tell me about her… Please. Dadddy doesn't talk about her much," Sara pleaded to Sirius, still staring down at the picture.
"Well, she was brilliant. She ended up in Ravenclaw because of that—though I always thought she'd do well in Gryffindor. Maybe for the best though, since she got to stay in the family. She was in the year above me, your dad too. She was smart, beautiful, kind… All qualities I've heard you've picked up from her," he sighed.
Sara was vaguely aware of George appearing next to her while Sirius spoke, dropping to his knees, and peering intently at her.
"You look just like her," he murmured, gazing at the picture of her mother.
"Dad always says that," she choked out. "Sirius… I… There's something else daddy won't ever talk about. Please… What happened to her?"
Sirius looked down at her with a shocked expression.
"Your dad's never told you?" he asked.
"He told me she was killed by a Death Eater, but no one knows who. He won't tell me more. Please, Sirius," she begged.
"Well… It… No one really knows what happened. Your dad had taken you to see Remus that day while your mum was at work. When he got home, the Dark Mark was over the house. He found your mum… She was… Whoever killed her didn't just want her dead, they wanted her to suffer. It wasn't just the Avada Kedavra, she was tortured."
Sara knew that all of the blood had drained from her face. George took her hand and she grasped his tightly.
"No one knows who did it?" she muttered.
"No," he replied.
"Thank you, Sirius," she said.
"Sure. I just… I'm sorry to be the one to have to tell you about it," he patted her shoulder.
She sighed shakily, trying to fight off the tears she knew were coming. She looked almost pityingly at George. He glanced over at his mother, who was all but stuffing sandwiches down Harry's throat. With a crack, he and Sara disappeared. They landed with another crack on the bed in their room. It seemed they'd made it just in time as Sara broke down. George pulled her against him and rocked her back and forth, letting her cry on his shoulder.
"How old were you?" George asked once her crying had calmed, running his fingers through her soft blond hair.
"One," she replied. "I… I don't remember anything about her… Except what other people have told me."
"Your dad doesn't like to talk about her?"
"Now that I know how she… I expect it's too painful for him. They were so in love," she sniffled.
"Are you okay?" he asked as he wiped the stray tears from her cheek.
"Yeah," she mumbled. "Thank you, George."
She looked up at him with her large green eyes and he felt his heart thumping madly, the way it used to before they were dating. She just looked as if he was her hero.
"Anytime," he replied, kissing her forehead. "But we should get back before we're too missed."
They Disapparated with a pop and returned to the drawing room. The sound no longer surprised the inhabitants of the house, and the only people who looked up were Mrs. Weasley and Fred. Mrs. Weasley smiled warmly at him before looking away. Sirius appeared behind them.
"I gave her the synopsis, just so it didn't look fishy," he whispered to them.
"Thank you," they both said before going to help with the cabinets.
Over the next few days, they finished cleaning the drawing room and moved on to the dining room. The only people in the house aware of Sara and George's relationship were Fred and Mrs. Weasley, and neither one said a word. Of course, they were more flirty than normal, but no one seemed to notice.
Number 12 Grimmauld Place turned out to be a very busy establishment. People came and went multiple times a day, and every time Sara and the others tried to listen in. The caught snippets of conversations, though out of context they never seemed to make any sense. Harry's name was often mentioned, but that was really the only distinguishable bit of information.
Kreacher had taken to secretly following Sara around the house—much to Sirius's chagrin. She was sitting on the couch between Fred and George one night when she complained about being cold. Moments later, Kreacher stumbled around the corner and dropped a blanket at her feet before running back into hiding.
"Oh, thank you," she called after the elf.
"Looks like someone's got an admirer," George mumbled, pulling the blanket up to cover them both.
"Well, if he lives to serve the house of Black, I'm the closest thing here, after Sirius," she shrugged.
On a dingy Thursday morning, Mr. Weasley took Harry to work with him for his hearing—apparently he'd produced a patronus in front of his cousin to save them from dementors and subsequently been expelled from Hogwarts. However, he returned that afternoon with the announcement that the charges had been dropped. The air of the house had lightened considerably since then.
Sara woke up the last morning of the summer holiday with George lying on top of her. She didn't even need to open her eyes to know it was him.
"No," she said simply, trying to burrow beneath the blanket.
She felt his lips press eagerly against her own. Though she was still waking up, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. A loud crack filled the room, and suddenly they were not alone.
"Break it up, kids, I want to see daylight between you two," Fred chided.
Fred sat down on the edge of the bed and pushed George off. He fell to the floor with a thud. Sara sat up and looked down pityingly at him.
"Booklists are here," he announced, handing Sara hers and dropping George's onto the floor where he was seated glowering.
Sara opened her letter and found three different pieces of parchment—the reminder for when term started, the booklist, and the confirmation that she would be continuing her duties as a sixth-year prefect.
"Well, looks like I still get to be a prefect. I'm surprised they don't just take it away, knowing that I'm friends with you two," she teased.
"Ah, I bet Hermione's opening her prefect letter now. Harry as well," George noted, standing up from his spot on the floor and pushing Fred off the bed as well.
"We should go check on the little tykes," Fred suggested. "And you should get up," he said to Sara.
They disappeared with a crack, leaving Sara to get dressed in the room without their interference. After wandering out of the bathroom, she went downstairs to Harry and Ron's bedroom, which was quite packed with people.
"So, what's the verdict?" she asked, plopping down on the bed.
"Ron and I are going to be the Gryffindor prefects!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Well congratulations!" Sara said cheerily. She chanced a glance toward Harry, who was keeping to himself.
Mrs. Weasley bustled in, telling them that she'd go into Diagon Alley to get their books and anything else they needed. Fred broke the news and told her that he ha been chosen as prefect. Mrs. Weasley shrieked loudly when Ron held out the badge.
"I don't believe it! I don't believe it! Oh, Ron, how wonderful! A prefect! That's everyone in the family!" she exclaimed, pushing through Fred and George to Ron.
"What are Fred and I, next-door neighbors?" asked George with an air of indignation as he dropped down onto the bed next to Sara. Fred took a seat on her other side.
Mrs. Weasley doted over Ron and, when she offered him a present for his achievement, he quickly asked for a new broom. Sara could sense Fred and George tense up next to her—she knew both of the boys had grown tired of riding their second-hand brooms. Still, Mrs. Weasley bustled off, leaving Ron to defend himself against Fred and George.
"You don't mind if we don't kiss you, do you, Ron?" asked Fred in a fake voice.
"We could curtsy, if you like," George suggested.
"Oh, shut up," Ron said feebly.
"Or what? Going to put us in detention?" Fred threatened.
"I'd love to see him try," George challenged.
"He may not want to put you in detention, but I certainly wouldn't mind, you know, take you down a peg," Sara glared up at George.
"I'd love to see you try as well," he sniggered.
"You want to tempt me? I know too much about the both of you for you to do that," she threatened.
"Looks like we'll have to stay on the right side of the law now, won't we Fred?" George laughed.
"Looks like our law-breaking days are over," Fred sighed dramatically.
"Shut up," Sara rolled her eyes, punching George's arm.
Without warning, he lifted her up, threw her over his shoulder, and Disapparated.
"You're both stupid," Sara grumbled, shoving herself out of George's grip.
"You know you can't hate us for it, though," Fred winked.
Sara rolled her eyes, but the faintest of smiles ghosted across her face and the twins knew they were off the hook.
They spent the remainder of the day searching the house for their scattered belongings. They were searching in the sitting room in the early evening, checking that the room was clear of anything they might need to take back to school with them. Fred had already found his broomstick among the stacks of firewood ("How did this even get down here?" he'd asked. "I don't remember even taking it out of my trunk!"). Sara was on all fours, searching beneath one of the couches.
"I can't find my book anywhere," she complained.
"Which one?" George asked, lifting up the cushions of the armchairs.
"A Genealogy of Healing," she replied, her voice slightly muffled beneath the couch. "I know I had it out a few nights ago, where could it have-"
She was interrupted by a loud crack that caused her to knock her head against the bottom of the couch in alarm. She sat up and discovered Kreacher standing before her in a low bow, her book hovering just in front of her, clasped tightly between his gnarled fingers.
"Oh, ah, thank you, Kreacher," she said, taking the book from him.
"The young mistress thanks Kreacher, just as her mother did… Is there anything else the young mistress desires?" Kreacher asked, staring straight at the ground.
"Well… Have you noticed anything else lying about that might belong to one of us? We seem to have misplaced a few essentials during our stay," she said.
If at all possible, he bowed even lower before Disapperating once more. Fred and George were staring incredulously at Sara.
"I reckon you're the only one he'd ever take orders from," George mused.
"No, I'm just the most appealing option in the house at the moment," she muttered.
Another crack, and Kreacher had returned with a small armload of belongings—two pairs of socks, a knit cap, a few trick wands and bits of "toffee" Sara recognized to be Fred and George's, one of the sweaters Sara had received from Mrs. Weasley, hair ties and bobby pins, and (Sara gasped when she saw it) the gold and sapphire bracelet she'd received anonymously last Christmas.
"Oh, Kreacher, I'm so glad I didn't leave this," she exclaimed as she stuffed everything else into Fred and George's arms before carefully taking the bracelet from him. "Where did you find it?"
"It had rolled under the young mistress's dresser, Kreacher noticed when he was tidying up," he replied dutifully.
"Thank you so much, Kreacher," Sara smiled warmly down at the elf.
"At first Kreacher wondered what it could be doing back here, after my mistress passed it on in her will," Kreacher went on, as if he couldn't stop himself. "Then Kreacher realized it must have passed to you."
"Yes, it was my mother's, apparently," she said, looking down at the bracelet with a warm smile.
"Is there anything else the young mistress requires?" he asked.
"No, thank you for your help, Kreacher," she smiled at the elf.
He bowed deeply before Disapparating a final time. They finished packing up their trunks before heading down to dinner. A large banner had been hung up that read "Congratulations Ron and Hermione—New Prefects." Though Fred and George looked a bit sour, Mrs. Weasley looked happier than they'd seen her all summer. Members of the Order came slowly trickling in. Sara was talking to Lupin and Tonks when a clunking stopped just behind her. She turned to see Mad-Eye Moody (the real one) looking down at her.
"Hello, sir," she said sheepishly.
"Sara… Growing to be even more like your mother, I see," he replied gruffly.
Hearing him use her first name did wonders to ease the knot of tension in her stomach. The fake Moody from the year before had always called her "Roth." This was the real Moody, she had no doubt.
"It's good to see you, sir," she smiled more confidently now.
"And you. Your father wanted me to tell you he's sorry he can't come see you before you leave. He's being worked to the bone," Moody growled.
"Well, thank you, sir," Sara smiled up at him.
"Oh, Alastor, I am glad you're here," Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, appearing behind him. "We've been wanting to ask you for ages—could you have a look in the writing desk in the drawing room and tell us what's inside it? We haven't wanted to open it just in case it was something really nasty."
"No problem, Molly," he replied.
His magical eye swiveled up and stared at the ceiling.
"Drawing room… Desk in the corner? Yeah, I see it… Yeah, it's a boggart… Want me to go up and get rid of it, Molly?" he asked, the eye swiveling back down.
"No, no, I'll do it myself later," she beamed, ushering him toward the drinks.
"It's nice to have the real Moody back," she sighed, turning back to Lupin and Tonks.
"I'll bet!" Tonks laughed. "Crouch couldn't have been a very great teacher."
"He used the Imperius curse on us," Sara said, shaking her head.
"Damn," Tonks said.
"Well," Mrs. Weasley said loudly, "I think a toast is in order. To Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor Prefects!"
They raised their glasses and toasted Ron and Hermione, who blushed under the attention. Sara spent a good portion of the evening hopping around to different conversations, eventually stopping at Fred and George.
"What were you talking to Mundungus for?" she asked, having noticed their shady dealings when talking to Lupin and Hermione.
"Oh, that? You saw that, did you?" George said nervously.
"Yes, I did. So?" she crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at him.
"You know, you remind me of mum when you do that," Fred noted.
"Oh, I'll get to you. What. Was. That. About?" she asked, punctuating each word forcefully.
"We just… We just needed something that we can't get from anyone else. They're not tradeable, and he can get them for us," George insisted.
"George, if it's illegal, it's going to get you in trouble," she tapped her foot impatiently.
"Please don't be mad," he pouted, pulling her against him.
"George…" she narrowed her eyes up at him.
"Please," he repeated, laying his forehead against hers.
She huffed, but her arms dropped to her sides and her expression turned from one of frustration to one of concern.
"You can't afford a fine, or, Merlin forbid, an expulsion," she chided.
"We're not gonna get in trouble," he urged, giving her a quick peck on the lips.
"You two are so cute, it's sickening," Fred rolled his eyes.
"Thanks," they both replied.
A scream floated down the hall from up the stairs. In an instant, Lupin, Sirius, and Moody were running toward the source of the noise, leaving everyone else to speculate. Harry and Mrs. Weasley were also gone. It was a short time before Mrs. Weasley and the three men came back downstairs. Mrs. Weasley looked shaken, but alright.
"Mum, are you okay?" Fred asked, putting an arm around her shoulder.
"Yes, I'm fine," she replied, wrapping both arms tightly around her son. "Just a boggart… Just a boggart…"
"She's fine," Lupin said, coming up behind them. "A little scare, that's all."
"Mum, you've got a good grip," Fred winced, pulling at her arms.
"If I ever lost any of you, I don't know what I'd do," she muttered, undeterred by Fred's pulling.
"You're gonna be the one responsible for losing me if you don't ease up on your grip, mum," Fred continued prying at his arms.
Sara and George laughed. When Sara caught Lupin's eye, she noticed the look he was giving her. She realized George's arm was wrapped around her shoulders, and hers was wrapped around his waist. She blushed a little, but his expression lightened up. He shrugged and gave her a very understanding smile before heading over to Kingsley and Moody.
"I'm so happy you two are together," Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, looking over at Sara and George.
Both of them blushed red and stuttered without making much sense. Mrs. Weasley laughed, gave Fred one more squeeze, and went over to harass Ron.
"What was that about?" Fred asked, rubbing the spot where her arms had been.
"You're lucky to have her," Sara said, smiling after the retreating Mrs. Weasley.
"Yeah," Fred said, a little embarrassed.
Sara tried to stifle a yawn, but failed miserably. George laughed at her poor attempt.
"Bedtime," he said.
"You can't tell me what to do," she chided.
"If I go up, will you come with me?" he asked.
"I suppose," she yawned, not bothering to stifle it now.
"Barf," Fred teased.
"Shut up," Sara said, hitting his arm.
After a few quick goodnights, Sara and George headed up to bed, leaving Fred to mingle with the others (though, in his words, he didn't want to "cockblock" anyone tonight). They Apparated upstairs, and before George knew what had happened, Sara had knocked him onto the bed, her lips crashing down on his. Their tongues were entwined in a battle of wills, and her fingers were tangled in his short hair—something she still very much enjoyed. Her lips trailed down his jawline, and he shivered when she nibbled on his earlobe. He felt her tongue in the shell of his ear, and he groaned.
"George," she whispered huskily.
"Yeah?" he replied shakily, running his hands over her back.
"I'M COMING IN!"
The door flew open and Fred barged in, completely ignoring the couple on the bed. Sara sat up and rolled her eyes.
"What was that about not wanting to cockblock tonight?" George fumed, sitting up and running his hand through his hair.
"Yeah, well, everyone else was heading out," he shrugged.
"Dick," George mumbled, Disapparating for the bathroom.
Sara sighed and got out her pajamas. This would be the last night she spent in this house—at least until Christmas holiday, if they came back here. Fred left the room and she changed quickly before they got back. By the time they settled in and turned the lights off, she was asleep with her fingers twined around George's.