Marjorie peers down at the broken bird bones splayed across the crocheted table cover, frowning and poking at them unhappily. She consults her Divination textbook, but it doesn't offer much help with deciphering the meaning behind the pattern the bones have fallen in.

"Well, my dear?" Professor Trelawney falls upon her table with little warning, causing Marjorie to jolt from fright, "What do you see?"

"Er-" Marjorie fumbles to sit upright and peers closer at the bones. "Well, um. Th-that bone there, and the way it's shaped like a broken wishbone, represents a, um, a powerful person? Or, or maybe an authority figure?" She glances nervously at Trelawney, who's frowning at the bones. "And that one there, with the jagged break in it, I think it means deception? Or lying, somehow. Um-"

"Hmmm." Trelawney purses her lips as she examines the bones, then pats Marjorie on the shoulder. "I'm not quite sure that's it, dear. The ancient art of Divination isn't for everyone, but keep trying."

Someone behind her begins to snigger and Marjorie deflates a little after the professor walks away, scowling resentfully at her bones. This was a stupid exercise anyway. She scribbles down vague nonsense to hand up for the end of class, and begins to pack up once the bell goes.

"Miss Longbottom, could you stay a moment?" Trelawney calls out to her before she can leave.

Marjorie hesitates, but turns and waits all the same. Professor Trelawney has always made her a little nervous - the big, bug-like eyes were a little creepy, especially when magnified behind her thick, bottle-like glasses. "Of course, Professor."

Trelawney sweeps past her and over to a dainty little cabinet filled with crystals and tinkling like windchimes, and from it she pulls out what Marjorie recognises as her extra-credit dream journal from last month. Turning back to face her, Trelawney smiles in that dreamy, absent way of hers. "I was hoping to speak to you about this, my dear." She gestures with the journal.

"Oh, I see." Marjorie says rather unenthusiastically. She casts her mind about desperately, wondering if she had somehow managed to fill it out incorrectly.

"Sit, please." Trelawney gestures at the overstuffed pouffe chair opposite her, still smiling vaguely as she watches Marjorie reluctantly sink into it. "Now then," She flicks briefly through the journal, as though to refresh her memory, before looking back to Marjorie, "You have some very interesting dreams, Miss Longbottom."

"Do I?" Marjorie blinks, surprised by this news. She had always found her dreams frustrating and utterly devoid of meaning; full of dark figures alternately whispering to her or pointing at some distant, unseen thing beyond her awareness.

"Oh yes." Trelawney lays the book out on the desk carefully. "There are many different types of Divination, you know, and dream interpretation is only one of them. You may not have any great aptitude for osteomancy, but I do hold out hopes for your dreams!"

Marjorie thinks that Professor Trelawney is actually trying to compliment her, though it falls somewhat short of actually working. "Er- thanks, Professor." she says anyway, just to be polite.

"You do have... visitors in your dreams, do you not?"

"Visitors?" Marjorie repeats, feeling as though she had missed a step in their conversation somewhere.

"Yes, yes," Trelawney is beginning to sound slightly impatient, although she quickly regains control of her usual airy demeanor. "That is to say, you speak in your dream journal of these curious dark figures and their whispers."

Oh dear, Marjorie thinks, chewing on her lower lip. It seems that Professor Trelawney is reading far too much into what she had written in that damn journal; it was true that her dreams are a little strange but she's quite sure that it's down to stress, not down to any mystical 'visitors'. "I don't think-" she begins, but Trelawney cuts her off quite soundly.

"Do you ever talk to them, dear? Make contact?" Trelawney peers at her eagerly, "It is a rare gift indeed, to be able to look into the world beyond our own!"

Marjorie lets out a nervous little laugh and looks down at her hands. "Um, no, I haven't ever-"

"Well, then that is what you must do!" Trelawney says eagerly, standing and holding out her dream journal. "You are doing much better in my class with your extra credit assignment, dear, but I think another month or two of dream-journalling will really improve your grade!"

Reluctantly, Marjorie takes the dream journal. An extra two months of journalling the most frustrating and nonsensical figments of her unconsciousness was absolutely not what she had been hoping for, but she manages to muster up a smile all the same. "Right. Well, thank you, Professor."

"Oh please, my dear, you needn't thank me. It is an honour to be able to guide you through the mystical world of the unseen and the immaterial." Trelawney says airily, walking Marjorie to the trapdoor and seeing her out.

As soon as Marjorie escapes the over-perfumed air of the Divination classroom, she breathes a deep sigh of relief, reveling in the fresh air of the corridor. Trelawney's presence is always rather overwhelming, but she supposes it is rather nice to not have to worry about doing poorly in her class thanks to this new extra project.

After dinner, Marjorie wanders over to where her roommates are settled in the armchairs by the fire in the common room; Alicia and Katie seem to be in the middle of a rather heated argument about their Arithmancy homework, and Angelina has her head buried in a copy of Which Broomstick? as she tries valiantly to block them out. She peeks over the top of the magazine and smiles tiredly at Marjorie as she sinks into the loveseat directly opposite the fire.

Marjorie smiles back, and watches as Angelina goes back to her article on proper broomstick care. Other than Katie and Alicia's bickering, the common room is rather quiet as everyone either talks lowly or works on homework. Marjorie shifts on the loveseat and allows herself to relax into the overstuffed cushions, happy to just laze about for the rest of the evening.

"Well hello, Longbottom." Fred Weasley thumps down next to her and gives her an over-exaggerated wink. "Looking good today!"

Marjorie feels her whole damn body flush, and she tries to sink lower into the loveseat. "You really don't have to do that."

"Do what? Pay my dear friend a compliment?"

It's been two and a half weeks since the Yule Ball, and the twins have decided to pick up the most maddening habit of complimenting Marjorie as often as they can. Apparently, they had decided that hexing Kolya after the ball simply wasn't enough and that Marjorie needed to be cheered up even more via increasingly frequent comments.

"Good afternoon, everyone." George appears from her left and sits down beside her; there's really not enough room though, so she ends up being sandwiched uncomfortably close between them. "Longbottom, you're practically glowing today!"

"Merlin." Marjorie tries very hard to become invisible by sinking down into her robes, but it doesn't seem to work. The loveseat really isn't big enough for all three of them, especially since the twins are ridiculously tall, so the two of them have ended up practically sitting on her. Alicia and Katie have stopped arguing, and are looking at them curiously now.

"Did you do something new with your hair?" Fred tugs on a lock of her hair, which is tied back with a simple ribbon the same way that it has been nearly every day since first year. He looks like he's quite enjoying the way she's trying to melt into the couch.

"Maybe it's just the way she looks in the firelight." suggests George, who's grinning widely as he watches Marjorie's cheeks turn pink.

"What... is happening right now?" Alicia whispers to Katie, their argument apparently completely forgotten.

"They're just messing around." Marjorie mumbles, so low on the couch that she's almost slipping off of it. Fred and George's thighs are pressed over hers though, keeping her pinned to the cushions.

"Do you think so little of us, Marjie?" Fred asks, sounding wounded. It's almost believable, but for the fact that he's visibly trying not to smile.

"We are one hundred per cent serious!" George ruffles her hair and laughs as she ducks away from his hand and struggles to retie her ribbon in the very limited space on the couch.

Angelina looks between the three of them, obviously as curious as Katie and Alicia. When she meets Marjorie's eye, she grins. "You know," She says, shutting her magazine. "I've just remembered, I've got to go to the library."

Marjorie blinks at her uncomprehendingly until Katie and Alicia follow her lead. "Oh yeah," Katie is nodding very unconvincingly, "I've got, er... loads of stuff to work. Just loads. We'll just... leave you to it then."

"Leave us to what?" Marjorie wriggles underneath the twins' legs to try and see where the girls are going. "Hang on, there's nothing to leave us to!" The girls are gone before Marjorie manages to wiggle out from beneath the twins, and she falls back in defeat when she realises that the boys have no intention of shifting away from her. "I think you're crushing me."

Both boys choose to completely ignore that remark. "Now that they're gone, Marjie darling, we have a favour to ask you."

"A favour?" Marjorie shifts nervously. They both have those mischievous little smiles playing around their identical mouths, and the force of both of their attentions at once is overwhelming.

"Only a little one." Fred says, tugging the ribbon in her hair loose again for absolutely no reason.

Before Marjorie can get annoyed, George reaches behind her and begins tying it again. "You remember when you blew up those Quidditch robes in Charms last month?"

"I- yes, of course." It takes a bit of effort to keep her voice steady, because George's fingers keep brushing against the back of her neck as he tightens the ribbon in her hair. He's probably doing it just to mess with her.

"Well, we'd like to watch you do it again."

Marjorie turns to stare at George, then at Fred. "What? Why?"

"Research purposes." Fred pipes up, eyeing the ribbon in her hair again.

Marjorie leans away from him suspiciously, turning so the back of her head is facing George. "Research purposes?"

"No need to be so suspicious, rabbit." Fred tweaks her nose and laughs at the expression on her face. "Have we ever done anything dodgy to you?"

Marjorie regards them both with narrowed eyes. "Is that why you've been so nice to me recently? You want me to blow something up for you?"

"Yeah" says Fred at the same time that George says "Of course not!"

Marjorie sighs as she watches them slap at each other, but then Fred turns to look at her again. "Fine, fine, we're obviously not just being nice to you because we want something. What kind of prats do you take us for?"

"I don't take you as prats!" She says defensively, "Why are you being so nice to me, then?"

"We're this nice to everyone!"

"I literally saw you lock someone in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom only yesterday."

Fred snorts dismissively. "That was Montague. He doesn't count, he's an arsehole."

"I think we're getting off-topic." George nudges Fred with his elbow none too subtly. "Us being nice to you and wanting to watch you blow things up are two completely separate issues."

"Honestly, Longbottom," Fred starts to chuckle, "You're acting as though no one's ever said anything nice to you before us."

Marjorie inhales sharply, then finally manages to struggle out from under them so that she can stand. "That's- I obviously don't-" She twists her hands together and frowns. They aren't the only people who have ever complimented her, obviously, but kind comments can very often be few and far between. And even then, the compliments that she does actually receive are from the elderly witches that her Gran is friends with, or from her cousin Neville, not from young good-looking men like the Weasley twins. She had been hoping that hadn't been obvious. "That's not-"

"Whoa, Marjie, I didn't mean anything by it." Fred says quickly, reaching a hand out to to her. "Sorry, I just- never mind, yeah?"

"Right." Marjorie says a little stiffly, tugging at her robes. She takes a deep breath and looks down at the floor. "Right, yes. Um. What do you want me to blow up, then?"

The twins both break out into grins, and George claps his hands and jumps to his feet. "Well, we can't very well just start blowing things up in the common room, can we? Come on, there's a classroom on the second floor that's been abandoned since the 1930's. We'll go there."

The classroom, when they reach it, doesn't look abandoned. In fact, it looks as though it's been used very recently; there are jars full of potion ingredients laid out on several of the desks, and a bag half-full of dungbombs left on a chair. There are several scorch-marks on the stone walls, and on the floor are the remains of what looks like a couple of Dr Filibuster's Wet-Start Fireworks.

Marjorie squints around, a feeling of apprehension growing in her belly. "Remind me what exactly it is you want me to do, and why?"

"Simple, darling," Fred goes to the desk at the front of the classroom, where he procures a set of ancient robes. He takes out his wand and levitates the robes so that they hover against the wall with all the scorch marks. "We just want you to do exactly what you did before, when you blew that hole threw the Quidditch robes in Charms, you remember?"

Marjorie takes out her wand and regards the robes, chewing at her lip. "I didn't actually do it on purpose, you know. I'm not sure how exactly to do it again."

Fred and George seat themselves at an empty desk nearby and watch her eagerly. "Not to worry, I'm sure you'll manage it."

"If anything, the fact that it was accidental makes it even more impressive." George chimes in. "You blew a hole straight through them!"

Marjorie wonders how she could ever forget, considering they were so fond of reminding her. She turns to the robes again and nods, trying to work up a bit of confidence. The weight of two pairs of eyes on her aren't exactly helping her focus. Rolling her wand in her hands, she supposes she may as well start with trying exactly what she had tried before. With a wand motion that's probably a little more violent than entirely necessary, she exclaims "Colovaria!"

With a loud and terrible ripping sound, the robes are cleaved clean in half.

"Shit!" Fred jumps to his feet, staring at the robes in delight - the half below the chest of the robes have fallen in a heap to the floor, while the other half remains pinned to the wall. "Nice one, Longbottom!"

"Was that really just a colour changing charm?" George's mouth is hanging open a little, and he follows his brother over to look carefully at the damage. Rather conspicuously, the colour of the robes haven't so much as changed a shade.

Marjorie might normally be embarrassed at having failed so spectacularly at such a simple charm, but the reactions of pure delight from the twins are enough to temporarily hold her feelings of total uselessness at bay. "Is that... what you wanted, then?"

"It's fantastic, love, honestly, but we were hoping for something with a bit more boom, you know?"

"Boom?" Marjorie says carefully, her eyes drawn to the used remains of the fireworks on the floor.

"Boom." The twins say in unison, grinning wickedly.

Nodding thoughtfully, Marjorie watches as George repairs the torn robes with a flick of his wand. Fred moves to one of the desks to receive a little packet of powder, and moves to sprinkle it lightly over the robes. When they're done, they both hurry to take their seats again and look eagerly towards her.

"Should I try a different spell?" She wonders aloud. George looks utterly delighted at the idea alone, but Fred looks thoughtful before he shakes his head.

"Why try to fix what's not broken? We can experiment later, but for now let's stick with this one."

George pouts. "I want to see her try a Reducto." He says in an aside to Fred that Marjorie can very clearly hear.

"Hoho, that would be brilliant," Fred murmurs with a grin, but then waves his hand. "Later, though."

"What's the powder?" Marjorie asks, peering at the dusty coating on the robes.

"Oh, don't worry about that." George says absently, and gives her an encouraging thumbs up. "Go ahead, Marjie."

But Marjorie continues to hesitate, squinting at the powder. "Is this going to be some sort of prank?"

"Oi, you really think we'd do that?" George asks indignantly, but moves swiftly on before she can actually answer him. "Alright, fine, look. It's just... something that we've been wanting to test, that's all. Something we've developed ourselves."

Marjorie tilts her head at him, confused. "I don't understand why you can't test it yourselves. I'm sure you're very capable of blowing something up."

"Well, of course we're capable, Longbottom," Fred grins at her, resting his chin in his hands and gazing up at her from the desk. "But maybe we just wanted an excuse to spend time with you."

Marjorie just purses her lips and turns back to the robes. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I'd prefer if you wouldn't make fun of me."

"Why do you always think we're making fun of you, Marjie?" George asks conversationally, mirroring Fred's pose as he cradles his chin and rests his elbows on the desk. "We can be genuine sometimes, you know."

Deciding that it's probably best not to answer that, Marjorie simply flourishes her wand at the robes and casts the charm again. This time she's far more successful in her failure of a spell, in that with a sharp bang her spell blasts straight through the center of the robes just like the time in Charms.

Unlike that past time, however, whatever powder Fred had sprinkled on the robes promptly ignites and begins to fizz. Within moments, the powder is fizzing and popping and brilliant sparks of pink and orange and yellow and red bloom into the most fantastic shapes. Flowers, birds, and butterflies burst out of the smoking remains of the powdered robes, twinkling and spinning mid-air before burning out in a shower of sparks. Marjorie yelps a little and stumbles back, only to watch open-mouthed as a shimmering golden rabbit bounces out of the sparks with a loud pop. It hops quite realistically away from the wall, before bursting into a shower of pink sparks that dissolve before they hit the floor.

After the rabbit, the popping and fizzing dies back down into quiet. Marjorie stares at the charred remains of the robes in mute surprise, before her eyes dart back to the used Filibuster's fireworks.

"That went better than I expected, actually." George murmurs quietly. Marjorie had almost forgotten they were still there. "They didn't burn out nearly as quick this time."

Fred is nodding, looking quite pleased with himself. "See the rabbit? That was way more realistic than before. The salamander droppings obviously work way better when they're ground rather than powdered-"

"You're making your own fireworks?" Marjorie asks breathily, her eyes still fixed on the spot where the rabbit had faded out of existence.

"Well, trying to." Fred says with an air of false humility. "Not that the Dr Filibuster's fireworks aren't fantastic-"

"They've served us well throughout the years-"

"But sometimes it's fun to add your own flair to things, you know?"

"It is a bit harder than we realised, though." George admits with a shrug. "We always figured it'd be easy enough, especially because we're pretty good at blowing things up as it is-"

"None of your natural talent, of course, Marjie-"

"But it's quite difficult to get the exact right balance of ingredients."

Marjorie finally manages to pull her gaze away from the floor; the twins are watching her quite intently, apparently eager for feedback. "But- that's incredible magic. This is- it's very impressive!"

Both boys begin to act faux-humble, making loud 'pshaw!' sounds and waving her compliments away, but they can't hide the way their ears are turning red. "Did you like the rabbit, then?" Fred asks with a cheeky grin.

"That part was Fred's idea."

"Oi! It was both of our ideas!"

"I loved all of it." Marjorie laughs - she's still too surprised by the beautiful display to try and properly think out her words, so she ends up speaking a little more freely than she usually would, still smiling with a sense of childlike delight. "It was beautiful, all of it! I can't- it really is so impressive that you made it yourselves, I think it's absolutely amazing."

George looks a little embarrassed but utterly thrilled, and scratches the back of his head. "It's still a work in progress, you know, trying to get more shapes and better longevity-"

"It's wonderful." Marjorie says, tucking her wand away and turning to smile at them properly. "They're going to be absolutely incredible when they're all finished. What... what are they for?"

"Just to impress you, Longbottom." George winks at her, and grins when she flushes beet red.

"What are they actually for?"

"Well," Fred shrugs, "We've been trying our hand at inventing a couple of... products, I suppose you could say."

"We started with sweets, actually." George stands up and rounds the desk, gesturing Marjorie to come closer. "Actually, it started because Fred slipped Hiccough Sweets from Zonko's into my tea, and we started trying to create even funnier things to give to each other."

"We're thinking we might even start selling them," Fred shrugs and hops up to sit on the desk, legs splayed carelessly. "I mean, if we'd buy them, then other people will be interested too, right?"

"Mum's not too happy about it, though," George says with a grimace, "Thinks we're wasting our time, or something, and that we'll end up accidentally killing ourselves testing them out or something."

"Are they dangerous?" Marjorie asks, a worried frown beginning to furrow her brow.

"No." George says after a hesitation that is the complete opposite of reassuring. "I mean, not really. The fireworks are definitely better fun to try out than the sweets, though."

"We got the idea from you, actually." Fred says in a would-be casual voice, picking at his fingers.

Marjorie stares at him, wide-eyed and confused. "Me? Because I blew up those robes in Charms?"

"Er- partially." Fred sounds careful, as though he's treading around a sensitive subject. "But at the beginning of the year in Potions something went wrong with one of your potions, I don't know if you remember-"

"Your potions do tend to go wrong quite a lot," George points out, and then notices the way that Marjorie's face drops and quickly adds "Not that there's anything wrong with that, obviously! There's nothing like a good, cauldron-melting explosion."

As it happens, Marjorie does remember the incident they're talking about. While it's true that her potions never turn out right, it's very rare that they actually explode - That's why the incident at the beginning of the year was so traumatising. "I singed Daniel May's eyebrows off."

"Yeah!" Fred laughs, "Sparks flying everywhere, people screaming, your cauldron melting across the desk, and Snape getting so angry he practically turned purple. It was brilliant!"

Humiliation prickles at her skin, but the twins genuinely don't seem to mean any offence; if anything, they seem to earnestly mean well. They're acting as if they're fondly reminiscing on a treasured memory, grinning at her as though inviting her to do so as well.

"The way everything caught fire was even more impressive than the wet start fireworks we threw into Marcus Flint's Soothing Solution last year, and it got us thinking why not try our hand at creating our own, you know?"

George looks like he's about to add on to that, but at that moment the door to the classroom lets out a loud, sharp whistling sound and he curses instead. "That means Filch is coming, let's go!"

Marjorie is still feeling a little bewildered by the onslaught of information, but she allows herself to be swept up by the twins as they herd her out of the room and back into the corridor. "He's been trying to find our little workroom for months now," Fred says, far too cheerfully considering he was now directing her very swiftly down the corridor in an attempt to outrun the ancient caretaker, "But we've been putting every protective charm we've been able to come across on it for almost two years now."

Frantic, clumsy footsteps are echoing down the corridor behind them, and Marjorie practically trips over herself as she scrambles to speed up. "I don't want to get in trouble!"

The twins just laugh - she can't tell if they're laughing at the idea of getting in trouble or the difficulty she's having keeping up with their stupid long legs. "You'd better run faster than that, then!"

Marjorie is panting embarrassingly hard by the time they reach the staircase leading to the Fat Lady's portrait, and she thinks that she probably would have given up at the sight of the stairs if not for the fact that Fred were directly behind her and had taken to prodding insistently at her lower back in an attempt to hurry her up.

"Applesauce!" George shouts at the Fat Lady as they approach her at a run.

The Fat Lady gives him a look full of displeasure. "You boys never say please, do you?" She sniffs, before swinging open to allow them access to the portrait hole.

The relief of reaching the common room once more without having been caught is staggering, and she comes to a halt to allow George to climb in ahead of her as she fights desperately to catch her breath. Behind her, Fred chuckles lowly and slings a careless arm around her shoulder. "That was some fine running, Longbottom."

Marjorie laughs nervously, hyper-aware of the weight of his fingers against her shoulder. "My Gran would absolutely murder me if she were to get a letter from McGonagall."

Fred just grins at her and takes his arm back, before dramatically bowing and gesturing to the portrait hole. Trying hard to look put together and calm (a difficult feat when she's sweaty and red-faced and her hair is falling out of her carefully knotted ribbon and into her face), Majorie steps forward and climbs into the common room after George, who's still waiting on the other side.

"Well, that was some good fun, eh?" George grins, nudging at Marjorie as his twins climbs through after her.

Marjorie wheezes some vague noise that George apparently chooses to take as an agreement, because he claps her companionably on the shoulder before wandering over to join Lee Jordan. Fred leans over and says, "We'll have to do this again sometime." right in her ear. He's so close that he almost definitely notices the way she shivers as his breath ghosts over the sensitive flesh behind her ear, but he doesn't seem to notice.

Marjorie watches him walk over and join his brother, completely forgetting that it would be good manners to give him a reply.