Dragging Harry's invisibility cloak on, George hurried along the corridor. He pulled the Marauder's Map out of his pocket again – just to check they hadn't moved. No. both names hovered in the same place they had been a few minutes before – the top of the Astronomy Tower stairs.

George muttered a spell to muffle his footsteps and broke into a sprint. He rounded the last corner on the stairs. Lee Jordan was leaning against a column by one of the long windows. George slowed, taking the last four stairs cautiously.

Fred sat on one of the window seats, stroking Angelina Johnson's hair as she reclined in his lap.

George let out an unsteady breath. He liked Angelina – he did. He just hadn't ever noticed her in the way that Fred did. Had never really looked at her. He looked now.

She stretched, a smile curling on her full mouth, tawny eyes bright with amusement. She was gorgeous. George grinned despite himself. Suddenly Malfoy's ridiculous shrine-making pastime didn't seem so ludicrous. He leant against the Astronomy Tower wall, watching her.

She flipped her hair, pushing away from Fred and turning to face him. "You're being ridiculous."

Fred scowled. "Back me up here, Lee. George is kind of acting insane right now."

"A bit," agreed Lee, traitor that he was. "But," he added. "Your brother should be able to date any witch he likes without you breaking up with them for him."

"But…" protested Fred.

Lee held up a hand. "Even if the witch he likes is the worst choice in the universe."

"He doesn't like her," protested Fred. "Who could? You've seen her…"

"I think you're jealous," said Angelina.

Fred snorted. "I don't care if George dates. I just don't want him dating her."

Angelina's mouth quirked. "That's exactly what I mean, Fred Weasley. If you wanted her, you should have gotten in first."

Fred and Lee both choked – one in outrage, the other in amusement. Fred slapped Angelina across the back of the head. "Shut your foul mouth, woman. My God, she can't even read!" He shuddered in revulsion. "No, look, this is just George being dumb and thinking he can't do any better. He doesn't want her; he's settling for her."

"He might not be settling," said Angelina. "He's kind of the less attractive twin."

"This is true," agreed Fred.

Lee rolled his eyes.

Fred saw and gave him the finger. "But the less attractive Weasley twin is still pretty damn hot."

"Anyone who's seen the both of you would be crazy to want George," said Angelina. She ran her gaze across the line of Fred's shoulders. "He doesn't compare."

Fred tilted his head. "What's wrong with your hair?"

Angelina reached a hand up to touch the ends of her hair. It darkened under her fingers, becoming shorter as she ran her hand through it.

Fred squeaked, jerking away from her.

"What?" Angelina tried to move closer, but her voice gave out – coming out harder than Angelina's melodic intonation.

Lee swore in alarm. Fred fell off the window seat with a wail of horror.

"What on earth is wrong with you?" All traces of Angelina were gone. In her place sat Millicent Bulstrode, pouting sulkily. She must have worked some spell on the clingy red and gold dress, because it had expanded to fit her.

Fred screamed – a long, ear-bursting howl of betrayal and horror.

George had to shove a swathe of invisibility cloak into his mouth to keep from laughing. She was absolutely, positively gorgeous. Shrines should be kept for her.

Fred and Lee scrambled for the stairs. George only just had time to press himself out of their way against the wall. He felt the brush of their robes as they scurried away with Fred casting frantic scourgify spells on his body as he ran.

George doubled over by the stairwell, the force of his silent laughter making his stomach muscles ache.

He leant back against the wall finally, head tilted up to watch Mill. She sat on the window seat, a smile playing around her mouth as she twirled her wand. It was all good now. He knew what was going on; she knew what was going on. There wasn't any explaining left to do.

George yawned. He'd spent the full night trying to figure out what Hermione had been talking about. He needed sleep before the ball.

But – Mill was sitting against the rising sun. The golden glow highlighted her smug grin, and sparked against her hard gaze. Sleep was less important than this.

…

Malfoy was at the Slytherin table when George trudged into the Great Hall. He was one of the last people eating. George rubbed at his eyes and dragged himself over to slump across from Malfoy.

Malfoy was too busy tearing into fistfuls of pastries and cheese to acknowledge him. Finally, after devouring three Danishes dipped in cream, one crusty roll and a handful of berries, Malfoy glanced across at George. He licked his fingers clean, picked up his mug and drained it of pumpkin juice. "I didn't get to watch Potter eat this morning," he said.

George stretched. "I suppose that's my fault?"

"It is," agreed Malfoy. He stuck a hand in his pocket, felt around and pulled out a rough, dark stone. He put it on the table. "Why does Potter keep things like this?"

Figured. Since Malfoy had been in Gryffindor Tower anyway, of course he would stop by and steal something else from Harry. "I can tell you," said George. "But you have to promise not to use it against him."

Malfoy blinked. "You'd trust my promise?"

George laughed – the sound hollow with exhaustion. A week ago he wouldn't have. Slytherins had no moral boundaries. Or at least George didn't understand the moral boundaries that they did have. But the lines were all blurred now. "I didn't say anything about trust. I said that I'd tell you if you promised."

"Well, obviously I promise." Draco looked miffed that he had to vocalise a point that he was so evidently going to agree to.

"Hermione says that it's behaviour that can show up in kids who grew up without anything. They can hoard the kind of things that are pretty much worthless." George picked the stone up and turned it over. A thin line of lighter stone ran through the underside of it. "Quartz. For a kid that didn't even get his own clothes, this would have been something beautiful that belonged only to him."

Malfoy reached out and snatched the stone back. He was scowling. "That's stupid. Your family doesn't have anything and I bet there aren't any worthless stones in your room."

George shook his head. "It's different. We have parents. We've got siblings. We always have food. And none of us ever had to sleep in a cupboard without windows for ten years."

Malfoy held the stone up to the light. "This means something then? This is important – to him?"

George nodded. "You should probably put it back. He can replace a tie or redo a parchment. That stone – it's not replaceable."

Malfoy tucked it into his pocket, chin tilting up. "All your reasons for wanting me to put it back are the reasons I'm not going to. What's a tie to this? Or a parchment? Even a piece of chewed gum?"

George rubbed a hand over his face. "I thought you cared about him."

"I'm not selfless," said Malfoy, his jaw set, and eyes narrowed in irritation. "I want him. If I can't have him, I'll settle for the things he loves."

George laughed. "I guess that's fair."

"It is fair," said Malfoy. "I hope he does suffer when he can't find this stone. I suffer every day when I can't have him."

Slytherins were mental. George had no idea why he liked them so much.

Malfoy poured himself another glass of pumpkin juice. "It wasn't mud," he said.

George's brow furrowed. "Sorry?"

"It wasn't mud," said Malfoy. "I said that Creevey had collected mud from the Quidditch pitch – I mean, that's what he thought it was. But it was Polyjuice potion."

"Yeah," said George. "You just figured that out now?"

"I needed to eat," said Malfoy. "Breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I don't have cognitive function without it."

"I'm not criticizing," said George. "It's impressive that you put it together at all. I wouldn't have figured it out if I didn't know that Polyjuice potion was available in the school."

"So the dress." Malfoy twirled his fork. "The lock of hair… Millie used those things to Polyjuice as Angelina Johnson?"

"Pretty much."

"What? Because Millie wants Fred, not you?"

That wasn't it, but far be it for George to expose someone else's prank. He shrugged.

"But you…" Malfoy scratched the line of his jaw, as though trying to get his head around a baffling concept. "You actually want Millie? Like no prank, just something you want?"

George sighed. "It's an inexplicable dilemma, I'm sure…"

"Not really," said Malfoy. "Potter is an inexplicable dilemma. He is scarred in the face, and I think he's colour-blind. His clothes never match. Sometimes matching his own socks is too much of a challenge for him. It's infuriating. But I can't shake him. You and Millie are more evenly matched than me and Potter. It's not as though you're particularly good looking or smart."

George laughed. "Thanks, mate."

Malfoy looked disconcerted at the dry tone. "I'm trying to be supportive," he protested.

George suspected that he was being sincere. "You might want to work on your tact," he suggested. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

…

After breakfast, George really had intended to crawl into bed and sleep until the Yule Ball, but when he got back to the Gryffindor Common Room, Harry was sitting alone by the fire.

George walked over and dropped into the seat across from his. He passed the invisibility cloak and Marauder's Map back. "Thanks, mate."

Harry folded the cloak over the arm of the chair and tucked the map into his pocket. "What did you need them for?"

George waved a hand dismissively. "Just checking something. All good." He leant back in his chair, stifling a yawn. "Why are you all by yourself up here anyway?"

Harry shrugged. "Ron's off with Lavender Brown – trying to get a matching corsage or something. And Hermione's…" He broke off, frowning. "Have you noticed that Hermione's been acting bizarre lately?"

There were so many different ways to answer that. George could go for non-comital and stay out of the mess that was sure to follow. Or… He chewed his lower lip as he mulled over the matter. "She has been heading down to the Slytherin dungeons quite a lot," he said. "There's been a bit of gossip about that."

"The Slytherin dungeons?" Harry's face creased in puzzlement. He shook his head finally. "No. If Malfoy was up to something she'd tell me." He shook his head again, more vigorously. "She wouldn't have to tell me. I'd know."

George rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't think she suspects anyone of wrong-doing, mate. I think she's going for a significantly pleasanter reason, if you catch my drift."

Harry straightened in his chair, eyes wide. "She would not be interested in Malfoy. She's not an idiot. And him? He's…"

"Charming?" suggested George. "Intelligent? Rich? Beautiful?" It was seriously bizarre that out of all the possible Slytherins, Harry would automatically think Hermione would want Draco Malfoy. George had been expecting to have to push Harry much harder to get him to that conclusion.

"He's dangerous," said Harry.

"I think that's probably as appealing as all the rest," said George. "Well, can't be helped."

Harry snorted. "Oh, yes it can. I'm going to…"

"What?" asked George. "What will you do that won't make Hermione ten times more determined to do just as she wants? No, you're going to have to let the whole thing play out. I can only see one other way around this."

"What's that?" asked Harry.

George shook his head. "Nothing that you would ever want to put yourself through."

Harry's chin came up, eyes hardening. "Try me."