The next day dawned, the first day of lessons of their final year at Hogwarts. As Winona got her schedule from McGonagall, she couldn't help but think that this was the last time she'd ever get her new schedule for the year… The last time she would sit and compare schedules with her friends… The last time she'd get to enjoy the quiet of the morning before the year's inevitable drama and near-death experiences kicked in…
She got the feeling those sorts of thoughts would drift through her head a lot throughout the course of the school year. She'd never been a particularly sentimental person, but it came out now, unbidden. This place had been her home for so many years…it was difficult imagining a life outside its walls.
Gripping Fred's hand as they looked for a place to sit at the table, she let herself be tugged towards the far end, where a familiar head of inky black hair told her where her cousin sat.
"I wish Fred and George'd hurry up and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted…" Ron was muttering as they approached. Fred practically puffed up at the mention, and Winona rolled her eyes.
"Do mine ears deceive me?" Fred proclaimed, stepping back to let Winona take the seat beside her cousin before he and George squeezed onto the bench on her immediate left. "Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?"
"Look what we've got today," was Ron's grumpy argument, shoving his timetable under Fred's nose. "That's the worst Monday I've ever seen."
Winona took it from him, scanning it briskly. "Binns, Snape, Trelawney and Umbridge, all in one day," she said, grimacing sympathetically. "Blimey, that is a rubbish Monday."
Fred leaned his chin on her shoulder, reading along with her. "Yeah, fair point, little bro," he said, then made a face. "You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like."
"Why's it cheap?" asked Ron suspiciously.
"Because you'll keep bleeding till you shrivel up. We haven't got an antidote yet," said George, casually, beginning to pull food onto his plate. Winona did the same, grabbing herself a plateful of eggs and bacon, then adding a small pile of blueberries for sweetness.
Ron made a face that his brothers ignored. "Cheers," he said moodily, "but I think I'll take the lessons."
"Pussy," Winona murmured teasingly. Ron's ears flushed red and Fred choked on a rasher of bacon.
"And speaking of your Skiving Snackboxes," said Hermione with an air of great importance, turning to eye the twins critically, "you can't advertise for testers on the Gryffindor noticeboard."
"Says who?" demanded George.
"Says me," Hermione said, before looking quickly at Ron. "And Ron."
Ron went red again. "Leave me out of it," he all but begged her. Ron was smart enough not to get himself on the twins' shit-list; he'd been there enough times in the past to know it wasn't a fun place to be.
Fred and George snickered at his hasty words while Winona just stole Harry's cup of juice and took a healthy sip for herself.
"You'll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione," Fred assured her, buttering a crumpet without watching what he was doing. "You're starting your fifth year. You'll be begging us for a Snackbox before long."
Hermione looked down her nose skeptically. "And why would starting fifth year mean I would want a Skiving Snackbox?"
"OWLs," said Winona, passing Harry's near-empty cup back to him. He made a face at her and she grinned back innocently.
Hermione didn't seem to get it. "So?"
"So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you? They'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they'll be rubbed raw," drawled Fred, one hand placed thoughtlessly to Winona's leg under the table. She smiled into her food, winding her ankle around his and holding tight.
"Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up to OWLs," added George, laughter in his eyes at the memory. "Tears and tantrums … Patricia Stimpson kept coming over faint."
"Alicia's hair came out in clumps for a solid three weeks," Winona added, grimacing in sympathy for her friend. "Poor thing. The stress really got to her."
"Yeah, and Kenneth Towler came out in boils, d'you remember?" Fred said, a wistful look on his face.
George and Winona rolled their eyes. "But that's 'cause you put Bulbadox powder in his pyjamas," his twin reminded him.
"Oh yeah," Fred grinned from ear to ear. "I'd forgotten… Hard to keep track sometimes, isn't it?"
Winona chuckled. "You're a menace."
"You love it," he purred in her ear, and she settled for bumping her shoulder with his in exasperation.
"Anyway," said George deliberately, rolling his eyes at their flirting, "it's a nightmare of a year, the fifth. If you care about exam results, anyway. Fred and I managed to keep our peckers up somehow."
"Winnie didn't do too bad, either," added Fred proudly, arm wound naturally around her waist. "Four you got, right, love? That was one more than either of us."
Winona nodded. "Yeah, I kept my cool mostly, too. Why bother stressing, y'know? Besides, not like I needed to get an O in Potions to become an artist," she shrugged. She glanced at Fred. "Still, three for you guys was great – and you got all the foundational knowledge you need to open the shop. Beyond that, who cares?"
When Fred grinned, it was wide and unrestrained. "We feel our futures lie outside the world of academic achievement," he told the Golden Trio furtively.
"We seriously debated whether we were even going to bother coming back for our seventh year," said George, cheerful and bright, "now that we've got-"
George let out a small yelp when Winona kicked him hard in the shin, but he played it off as a hiccup and changed course quickly.
"-now that we've got our OWLs. I mean, do we really need NEWTs? But we didn't think Mum could take us leaving school early; not on top of Percy turning out to be the world's biggest prat. Besides, wasn't like we could abandon this little urchin," he finished with a meaningful look at Winona.
"I would do just fine without you," Winona lied.
"You'd fall to pieces and you know it," sniped Fred. She just rolled her eyes. "We're not going to waste our last year here, though," her boyfriend continued on, looking affectionately around at the Great Hall. "We're going to use it to do a bit of market research, find out exactly what the average Hogwarts student requires from a joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of our research, then produce products to fit the demand."
Winona looked at him proudly. What had started off as the fanciful pipe dream of a pair of trouble-magnet kids had turned into a real, honest-to-Merlin business. They knew what they were doing, and they were actively working towards making it a reality. She couldn't have been more proud of them.
"But where are you going to get the gold to start a joke shop?" Hermione asked skeptically. "You're going to need all the ingredients and materials – and premises too, I suppose…"
Harry went bright red, embarrassed and awkward. Winona had to smile fondly. The twins, however, gave no hint to Harry's involvement, instead just beginning to gather toast into stacks and shrugging.
"Ask us no questions and we'll tell you no lies, Hermione," Fred told her simply, before turning to his brother. "C'mon, George, if we get there early we might be able to sell a few Extendable Ears before Herbology."
They stood to their feet, and Winona quickly swiped a chocolate croissant from the pile in the centre of the table, climbing up after them. "I'd better tag along, make sure they don't get into any trouble."
Hermione frowned. "Are they likely to?"
Winona laughed heartily and didn't bother answering. "See you later, Boy-Wonder," she told Harry, who lifted a hand in a vague wave, then turned to follow the twins, munching happily on her croissant. "Ask us no questions, and we'll tell you no lies?" she repeated around her mouthful. "When did you turn into a fortune cookie?"
Fred cocked his head. "What's a fortune cookie?"
"Never mind."
Herbology passed in a daze. They were working with Venomous Tentacular this term, and the twins in particular were rather excited. While Herbology wasn't their favourite subject, they enjoyed the more dangerous aspects to the craft. Dealing with deadly plants was sort of like their rush for the week.
They had a free period after Herbology, during which they'd been given a foot of parchment on the uses of Tentacula seeds – something she knew the twins could write in their sleep. They found a spot in the courtyard where the sun shone down onto the stone, reclining against the wall and charming paper cranes to fly around their heads.
"You told Hermione that OWLs were hard," said Winona, flicking her wand lazily at one of their cranes so that it began to nest in Fred's head of fiery hair. "But I have a feeling NEWTs are going to kill us."
"Nah," said George, toying with the fanged frisbee he held in his hands. It was technically contraband within the halls of the castle – but when had that ever stopped him? "They can't kill us if we don't let them."
"S'not like we can just ignore the homework," said Winona, because as much as she liked to rebel against authority, she had too much respect for (most of) the teachers at Hogwarts to just refuse to do any of the homework they assigned. Besides, after six years at Hogwarts, she didn't want all those years of education to amount to nothing, in the end. She didn't like putting energy into things that didn't matter – and six years was too much energy to waste.
"Yeah, but who cares about extra studying?" said Fred. "We did our OWLs, and it's not like we need any more qualifications. We could all drop out right now and it wouldn't make any difference."
Winona paused and turned to look at her boyfriend, who was chucking pebbles at the cranes flying around their heads, trying to knock them out of orbit. "Did you really only come back to Hogwarts for me?" she asked, head tilted curiously, and Fred looked away from his task to meet her eyes.
"Well, not just for you," he said, but the red of his ears said otherwise.
"It's not all about you, Win," George snorted playfully. Winona shot him a glare that might as well have been water against an Umbrella Charm, so she turned back to Fred, who rolled his eyes at them both.
"You may have been a contributing factor," Fred allowed, reaching for her hand. She let him take it, threading their fingers together instinctively. "As if we'd abandon you here. Then you'd only have Lee for company; and we all know he'll hit on anything with a pulse."
"Gee, thanks," she said dryly.
Fred tugged at her hand, rolling his eyes again. A smirk blooming on her lips, she leaned in to capture his lips in a quick kiss, only to be distracted by someone making a noise of intense disgust.
Eyebrows raised, she turned to look at Ron, who had just arrived with Hermione. The both of them looked extremely awkward to find her and Fred kissing, and Ron's cheeks were flaming as he tried to look anywhere else. "Try sharing a dorm with them," said George wryly. Ron grimaced at him in sympathy.
"Can we help you?" Fred asked, annoyed by their interruption.
"We wanted a moment with Winnie," said Hermione delicately, eyes glinting with meaning. Winona understood from that look alone that it was about Harry.
"Anything you have to say to Winnie, you can say in front of us," proclaimed Fred.
Ron began to speak, but Hermione stepped on his foot and he promptly shut his mouth. "It's a sensitive issue."
Fred opened his mouth to argue some more, but Winona interjected before he could really get going. "I'll be back," she told him, hauling herself to her feet and following Ron and Hermione across the courtyard. "What's wrong?" she asked the moment they were alone. "Is he okay?"
The pair exchanged a wary look. "He's fine, but…" Hermione trailed off, and Winona's thoughts immediately went to all the worst possible things it could be. "He's been really upset, recently," Hermione continued, twiddling her thumbs in front of her. "Well, we're worried about him."
Winona frowned. "Upset?"
"He's been…angry," said Ron. "Snapping at us. I mean, after the whole Seamus thing, I get that he was frustrated, but-"
"What Seamus thing?" she demanded. Ron's mouth shut with a loud clicking of his teeth, and she knew she wouldn't get an answer from him. She turned to Hermione expectantly.
"Harry and Seamus had a run-in in the dorm last night," Hermione told her carefully. "Seamus made it clear doesn't believe Harry about You-Know-Who returning, and the conversation sort of…devolved from there."
Winona narrowed her eyes. "Devolved how?"
Hermione winced. "I believe Seamus' mother was brought into the argument."
It took a great deal of effort for Winona not to drop her face into her hands and groan.
"And Snape was a total git to Harry during Potions last period," Ron added. "I mean, not that it's unusual, but Harry's taking it a bit harder than usual…"
Rubbing the spot above her eyebrow, Winona nodded. "Okay, I'll go talk to him," she said with a sigh.
"You don't have to," said Hermione with a wince. "It's just – you're the only person he actually listens to. We thought if you could get him to be honest about how he's feeling…"
"Yeah, I've got this," Winona assured her. She glanced to Ron. "What class did you have next, again?"
"Divination," said Ron, and Winona nodded.
"Thanks, Winnie," Hermione said in farewell.
"You don't have to thank me," Winona told her. "He's my cousin."
With a final, perfunctory smile, the pair turned away, heading towards the Great Hall for the remainder of their lunch hour. Winona made her way back over to the twins, who were now both throwing pebbles at the cranes fluttering above their heads, making a game out of who could hit the most.
"Everything all right?" Fred asked as she approached, watching her reach down to scoop up her bag and thread it over her shoulder.
"Harry's having a rough go at it," she told him, running a hand through her loose hair. "I'm gonna go check on him – make sure he isn't getting himself into any trouble."
"Knowing him, that might be asking a bit much," said George with a smirk.
Fred looked up at her, his brows raised. "Want some company?"
"Thanks, but I think the less people the better," she said, grabbing hold of the hand he reached out with and squeezing, using it to drag herself down to his level and press their lips together. "I'll see you in Charms?"
"Sure thing," he told her with a smile as he went back to folding more of those paper cranes to charm.
Winona knew exactly where to find her cousin; maybe it was just common sense, or she simply knew him that well, or maybe it was just her ability to know the things that other people didn't. Either way, five minutes later she found Harry sat at the very top of the North Tower, folded into the space beneath the trap door that led up to the Divination classroom.
He looked up at the sound of her footsteps on the landing, a frustrated look on his face, like he were prepared to get into it with whoever it was. When he saw it was her, his expression evened out, but even still, he looked grumpy.
"Ron and Hermione sent you to check up on me, did they?" he asked, a petulant look on his face.
Winona dropped her bag to the wooden floor with a thump and took a seat beside him at the wall. "They're worried about you," she said, stretching her legs in front of her and pulling out her sketchbook and a pencil. She got the feeling Harry would feel more comfortable if her full attention wasn't on him. "We're all worried about you."
Harry said nothing, picking at a loose thread on his book bag. Winona began to sketch his profile, starting with his outline then moving straight to his head of untameable head of hair. She sketched silently and waited patiently for him to speak.
"I'm so sick of being stared at like I'm something at a zoo," he finally muttered, green eyes narrowed on the thread he was pulling. "Nobody believes me about Voldemort – everyone either thinks I'm crazy or just attention-seeking, and they're treating me like a leper. People whisper as I walk by, or worse, they huddle in groups as if I'm going to attack anyone standing by themselves. I'm just – I'm just so angry, all the time."
Winona listened without speaking, sketching him absent-mindedly.
"And Ron and Hermione won't stop arguing. They just bicker, all night and all day. And it's giving me a headache. I just want some bloody peace and quiet!"
Winona looked up from her task to find him breathing heavily, frustration written into the lines on his youthful face. She took a moment to think about what to say.
"You have every right to be angry at the world, Harry," she told him softly. Clearly the words were unexpected, because Harry looked up in surprise. "The world hasn't been kind to you. I understand that more than anyone. And I understand being angry at Seamus and the rest of the school – they're being prats about the whole thing – but don't punish your friends for something they didn't do."
Harry opened his mouth to argue, but she barrelled on before he had a chance.
"They're on your side, Harry. And so am I. Don't alienate yourself from us just because you're upset at the world. We care about you, and we're here to help. Whatever you need."
As she spoke, the fight drained out of Harry. She watched his shoulders slump and his terse expression slacken until he was slouched in on himself like maybe he could roll into a ball so small that he'd disappear altogether. "I don't meant to snap," he murmured, a faraway look in his eye. "I'm just…"
"Frustrated," she finished knowingly. "It's okay – really, we all understand."
Harry pursed his lips, staring into empty space, tired irritation in his eyes. "Before all of this, when I was just famous for surviving Voldemort as a baby, it was easier. People still stared, but it wasn't…mean spirited," he whispered, the words a confession to both her and himself. "Now when people stare, it's because they think I'm a nutter. Because they think I'm a joke."
"None of those people matter, Harry," Winona told him, tucking her pencil behind her ear and dropping her hand onto his bony shoulder. "I'm not saying that makes it any easier; but just know that the only people whose opinion actually matters are the people you love. Nobody else knows you. As far as they're concerned, you're just gossip. I don't think they realise you're…real."
Harry exhaled in a rush, thumping back against the stone wall of the tower, tipping his head back to gaze at the trapdoor above.
"That doesn't make it any better," he whispered.
"No," she agreed quietly. "It doesn't."
They sat in silence another few minutes, Harry staring at nothing and Winona sketching his profile. The quiet was nice. This high up in the tower, they couldn't hear anything but the gentle whistle of the wind and the occasional hoot of a passing barn owl.
"Is this going to be my life forever?" Harry finally wondered, so soft and sad that Winona's stomach twisted with pain. "Always in the news; never for anything good? Am I going to be watched like a hawk my entire life?" He shook his head tiredly. "That's no way to live."
Winona looked at him – really, properly looked – and smiled sadly. "You're the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry," she reminded him. "And you're always going to be the Boy-Who-Lived. That's not going to go away."
Harry looked distraught, and so she hurried to continue.
"But all this shit about You-Know-Who's return is going to fade away. Maybe not anytime soon, but eventually, it will disappear. This isn't how it'll be forever."
Harry narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you saying that as a Seer?"
"Yes," she smiled wanly, "and also as your cousin. Things will get better, Harry. This too shall pass. It always does."
The shrill ringing of the bell sounded throughout the entire castle and Harry groaned, tipping his head back against the stone wall and shutting his eyes like he might be able to block out the sound. Winona couldn't help but smile fondly.
"I've gotta get to class," she said as she put away her sketchbook and climbed to her feet. The Charms classroom was on the other end of the school, so she had to move quickly. Harry stood too, threading his own bag over his shoulder, a tired look in his eyes that made him seem older than his fifteen years. "Give Ron and Hermione a break, yeah? Take your frustrations out on someone who actually deserves it – like Malfoy, or Nott."
Harry nodded in agreement, but she could tell he still felt like rubbish, his usually-vibrant eyes dull.
"Did I help at all?" she wondered.
At that Harry attempted a smile. It wasn't very convincing, but it was better than nothing at all. "Thanks for being here, Winnie," he told her. It wasn't really an answer, but somehow it was enough.
She leaned forwards, pecking him affectionately on the cheek before ruffling his hair and turning towards the stairs. "Enjoy Divination!" she called over her shoulder. She heard Harry's answering scoff and grinned, making her way towards Charms with a renewed lightness in her heart.
"First test group in ten minutes," said Fred, seeming to almost materialise beside her in the common room that evening.
Winona pulled the Sugar Quill from her mouth long enough to ask, "Puking Pastels or Fainting Fancies?"
"Fancies of course," he told her.
"Make sure you already have them sitting down," she warned him.
"Ah, nice catch," said George, who appeared on her other side. They both held clipboards in their hands, self-inking quills tucked into the clip at the top.
"If some poor kid actually gets a concussion because you didn't think to get them into a chair soon enough…"
"Right you are, love," said Fred cheerfully. "The last thing we need is to get shut down due to negligence. Are you gonna watch the tests?"
She flapped a hand in his direction, returning her attention to the sketchbook that lay open in her lap. "Only in the sense that I'll be in the room while it's happening," she told him. "Try not to kill anyone, please?"
A nearby first year – the first to show up for the session – went white at the words, making a squeaking sound that rather reminded Winona of a choking bird. Fred shot the kid a cheerful grin and said, "She's kidding."
Still pale, the kid only stared, trying to figure out if this was going to kill him or not. Winona smiled at him in what she hoped was a reassuring way, but the boy didn't seem comforted. Bemused, she watched as he scurried across the room to his friend, panic written across his face.
"Honestly Win, your bedside manner leaves something to be desired," sighed George, shaking his head as though she disappointed him and getting up to prepare for the tests they were about to conduct.
"Shut up," she sniped at his retreating figure, returning her attention to her sketchbook where a half-finished piece sat on the page, the sloping features and wild hair of Hermione instantly recognisable to anyone who knew the girl.
"Why're you drawing Granger?" Fred wondered, peeking at the piece over her shoulder, chin resting gently on her collarbone.
"She's a good subject," Winona told him simply. "Her hair always proves a challenge." She glanced at the common room, finding it bare of their other friends. "Where're Alicia, Lee and the others?"
"Ange has them working on writing out a structure for the Quidditch tryouts later in the week," Fred told her, chin still resting on her shoulder, fingertips toying with the hem of her shirt.
"Think she's enjoying filling Wood's shoes as Captain?"
"I think she's stressed, but if anyone can do it, it'll be her," he said, warmth ringing in his voice. Things between them might not have ended terribly well, but through it all they were determined to stay friends. Winona was grateful for it. The last thing she wanted was another rift in their tight-knit group.
Fred turned his head so that his nose brushed against the column of her throat. Chills prickled along her arms and down her neck. Fred noticed and she felt his smirk against her skin. "You have work to be getting on with," she reminded him as sternly as she was able.
"I'm sure George won't mind if we disappear for five minutes," he murmured into the hollow of her throat.
"Yes, George will," called George without looking up from his clipboard.
Fred sighed in disappointment and Winona laughed, reaching up to thread a hand through her boyfriend's messy red hair. "Go conduct your business," she told him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "I'll still be here when you're done."
Fred's lips brushed her throat again, but this time it was more affectionate than sensual. "And every night after?" he asked, the words somehow so much bigger than they were. Winona's breath caught in her throat and she smiled down at her work.
"And every night after," she promised. And although she'd expected those words to feel heavy, like the weight of a chain clasped around her wrists, Winona found that – if anything – they left her feeling lighter.
Fred pecked her affectionately on the cheek before shooting upright and bounding over to George just in time for their first round of tests to begin.
Smiling to herself, Winona worked in peace. She kept half an eye on the twins and their work, but they had everything under control, and she wouldn't have been any help, anyway. When it came down to it, the particulars of the invention process were way beyond her. She'd never pretended to be any good at anything other than drawing pretty pictures and the occasional powerful Biting Jinx.
Winona was still sketching Hermione when it all went down. And it was for the best, because she was the only one with some warning that it was going to happen. She was eyeing Hermione's wild head of hair, trying to get the shape of it just right, when she saw the girl shoot to her feet with familiar thunder in her eyes. Her glower was fixed directly on the twins, and Winona knew a time bomb when she saw one.
Sketchbook cast aside, Winona threw herself to her feet and positioned herself in Hermione's path, providing the twins with a little warning.
"Out of my way, Winona," Hermione ordered her. They were the same height, but somehow Hermione managed to make Winona feel smaller with the way she stared down her nose at her, utterly irate.
"You might be a prefect now, but you don't run the whole school," Winona told her sharply.
Hermione looked offended, as though what Winona had said was insulting, and before Winona could stop her Hermione had shoved her way through and was stomping towards the twins, who were hurriedly pocketing Fainting Fancies as though their mother had just stormed into the room.
"That's enough!" she barked at them, and the twins stared at her in varying degrees of alarm.
George recovered first. "Yeah, you're right," he said, nodding, "this dosage looks strong enough, doesn't it?"
Hermione was unimpressed. "I told you this morning, you can't test your rubbish on students!"
"Don't call it rubbish!" Winona snapped back.
"Yeah, and we're paying them!" added Fred, rightfully indignant.
Hermione remained unmoved. "I don't care, it could be dangerous!"
"Now that's rubbish."
"Calm down, Hermione. They're fine!" interjected Lee from where he was going around and inserting the antidote to the Fancies in the first-years' mouths. One by one they began to wake up, and Winona winced at their confusion. For the sake of her own sanity, she really hoped the twins had warned these children what they were getting themselves into.
"Feel all right?" George asked, crouching down beside a small girl, her eyes large and round.
"I–I think so," she murmured shakily.
"Excellent," Fred beamed. Winona knew what was going to happen a split second before it did.
"Fred – watch the-"
But before she could get her warning out, Hermione had snatched his clipboard and the paper bag of Fainting Fancies out of his hands, clutching them tight to her chest, fire blazing in her eyes.
"It is not excellent!" she hissed, practically spitting in her disapproval.
"Course it is," said Fred, very quickly tiring of her public scolding, "they're alive, aren't they?"
Hermione glowered at him. "You can't do this," she said hotly. "What if you made one of them really ill?"
"We're not going to make them ill," Fred told her impatiently. "We've already tested them all on ourselves – this is just to see if everyone reacts the same-"
"If you don't stop doing it, I'm going to-"
"Put us in detention?" interjected Fred, raising his eyebrows in a dare. Winona smothered the groan building in her chest as she made her way between them, standing at Fred's side just in case he needed someone in his corner once this all inevitably went to hell.
"Make us write lines?" added George, utterly scathing.
The common room filled with laughter, all at Hermione's expense, and when the younger witch's hair began to crackle with magic, Winona knew nothing good was going to come of it.
"No," said Hermione bracingly, "but I will write to your mother."
There was a long moment of horrified silence. You could have heard a pin drop.
"You wouldn't," whispered George, taking a step back, his eyes wide with shock.
"Oh, yes, I would," said Hermione grimly. "I can't stop you eating the stupid things yourselves, but you're not to give them to the first-years."
With that she thrust Fred's things back into his arms, turned on her heel with enough force that her bushy hair nearly smacked Winona in the face, and promptly marched back towards the fire where Harry was watching warily and Ron looked like he was trying to disappear into the couch cushions in the hopes his brothers wouldn't notice him.
Fred and George still looked shellshocked, alternating between staring at one another and gaping at Hermione across the room. "You don't think she'd actually…" George trailed off, horror like a mask on his face.
"I think she definitely would," said Winona grimly. She could see where Hermione was coming from – she actually had a point, really – but at the same time she didn't get to lord her control over the twins just because she now had a shiny badge pinned to her chest. "You might have to do this little more quietly from now on."
George grumbled something unkind under his breath, and Fred's face contorted in a grimace. "All right, kids," he said bracingly. "That's enough for today."
With that he handed out the test subjects' payment – small handfuls of gleaming silver Sickles – and after checking they were all well enough to be sent on their way, he did just that.
"Where does Granger get off?" George seethed, scowling across the room at Hermione, who was fishing something out from the depths of her bag and pointedly ignoring their half of the common room. "Telling us what to do like she's in charge of us?"
"Win's right," said Fred. "We'll just need to keep it quiet for awhile. Hopefully, in a few weeks, she'll be so bogged down with work for OWLs that she'll forget all about our little operation."
Winona wasn't so sure that was true, but it was about as close to hope as they were going to get.
"C'mon," said George, casting a frustrated look across the room at where Hermione was saying something to Harry and Ron, a haughty look on her face. "We've gotta make more Extendable Ears to meet current demand. Might as well do it now."
Fred made a face, but didn't argue. "Coming?" he asked Winona hopefully.
She shook her head. "You two go on. I'll only distract you. Besides, I want to shower while I have the dorm to myself."
Fred's arm wound around her middle. "You could shower up in our dorm," he said, the wicked gleam in his eyes telling her what he really meant. She smiled, torn between amusement and exasperation and maybe a tiny bit of lust.
"No, you can't," said George suddenly, and she glanced over in time to see him roll his eyes. "We really do have to work on our stock, and Fred's not going to concentrate if you're naked and wet in the room over."
Winona's cheeks felt hot at the matter-of-fact tone of voice her best friend used, and Fred made a face at his brother even as his eyes glowed, telling them exactly what he thought of the picture George had painted.
"I'll see you in the morning," Winona promised Fred, pushing up onto the tips of her toes to kiss him on the cheek.
"If you change your mind…" Fred trailed off, still gripping her hip, his fingertips leaving warm smudges on her skin.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," said George, making a face back at him and turning to go. Winona and Fred watched him leave, stomping his way up the stairs to his dorm, both silent in their ringing surprise.
"What d'you think that was all about?" Winona wondered, staring bewilderedly at the stairwell George had disappeared up.
"I think he's…jealous," said Fred quietly.
Shocked by the answer, she turned to look at him. They were so close together that she had to crane her neck back to look him in the eye, but despite that she didn't move away, letting him tap an uneven beat against the jut of her hip bone. "Jealous?"
"The little green monster comes for us all," said Fred sagely. She narrowed her eyes at him, unimpressed by the half-answer, and Fred turned sheepish. "I mean, for months we've been flaunting about, snogging in every other corner and grinning like mad fools in love."
She ignored the in love part – and she especially ignored how it made her pulse come to a halt, then stammer, then start up again at double the speed.
"Why should that bother him?" she asked warily. "He's always wanted us together – he told me so himself."
"Yeah, but that doesn't make being a third-wheel any easier."
And suddenly she understood. Guilt wormed at her insides. Fred seemed to sense it, drawing her up against him, both oblivious to the fact they were stood in the middle of the common room with beady eyes watching their every move.
"Are we terrible people?" she asked worriedly. "Have we been excluding him? Maybe I should apologise-"
"Win," Fred shook his head as he chuckled. "What exactly are you going to say sorry for? Being happy?"
He had a point, but by now the dismay had settled deep in her veins. "He's my best friend," she whispered, and the look in Fred's cornflower eyes softened. "I don't like knowing he's in pain – and I especially don't like causing that pain."
"I'll talk to him," Fred promised her. "Your his best friend, too. But at the end of the day, it's guy-talk he needs. That and a girlfriend."
Unbidden, a memory of George grinning widely at Katie on the night of the Yule Ball floated through Winona's head. George had never actually told her that he liked Katie, and while she might not have been the most observant of people, she was hardly oblivious.
"He has a thing for Katie," she told Fred softly.
He grinned. "I know."
The look she shot him was scathing. "I see. And you've known for how long, exactly?"
"A few weeks – he hasn't told me in so many words, but a brother notices these things," he said, his hand leaving her waist to tuck a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear. She smiled at him wryly, the expression widening when he grinned back.
"Merlin – just get yourselves a room, Weasley!" shouted a voice from somewhere nearby, and the common room broke out in snickers.
Fred turned to look at the source in annoyance but Winona knew better than to let him get into a battle of any kind – wits or otherwise. Holding his head in her hand, she turned his face back towards her.
"Go help George with work. Talk to him until he feels better. And also somehow force him to grow a pair and do something about Katie."
Fred smirked. "Yes ma'am," he said, voice low and sly, and Winona couldn't help but kiss him.
The same boy – from the year below them, who thought himself a class clown – wolf whistled loudly. Fred broke away from her to shove two fingers in his direction, but Winona sternly pushed Fred in the direction of his dorm.
"Go," she commanded.
Fred disappeared, leaving a bright grin in his wake. Shaking her head, Winona made her way up her own stairs. The shower was calling her name.
She was dressed in pyjamas and brushing out her knotted hair when Angelina and Alicia waltzed upstairs later that evening. She waved at them from her bed, attention half on the Herbology book in her lap.
Alicia called a brief hello before slipping into the bathroom. Winona was expecting Angelina to maybe begin her own homework in silence, but instead her covers wrinkled and she looked up to find Angelina sitting at the end of her bed, a wary look on her face.
"Ange?" she asked, suddenly just as wary. "You okay?"
Angelina cleared her throat. "I just wanted to say…" she trailed off, frowning as though the next words weren't coming easy. "I saw you and Fred down in the common room, just before," she finally said. Winona couldn't pin down the look in her eyes – was it sad? Wistful? Pained? Accepting? The terrible possibilities made Winona's head swirl.
"Oh," she said lamely, her heart racing. "Sorry – I didn't mean for us to – er – rub it in your face-"
Angelina surprised her by laughing and Winona fell silent, completely out of her depth. "Winnie, I'm not upset," she said, reaching forwards to scoop up Winona's hand, holding it in a friendly, reassuring grip. "I just wanted to tell you that you both look really happy. I never saw Fred look at me the way he looks at you – I really should have known I never stood a chance."
Winona struggled to find her footing in the unexpected direction the conversation had taken. "Oh," she said again, blinking.
"What I'm trying to say, is that I'm happy you're happy," Angelina continued warmly. "Ignore Roberts," she added, referring to the loud-mouthed idiot from before. "He wouldn't know what to do with a girl if he got one."
Winona laughed. "Give you a Sickle if you say that to his face."
"Make it a Galleon and you got yourself a deal," Angelina grinned, and it was like the piece of their friendship that had died in amongst all the drama with Fred finally – miraculously – healed itself. It sang with life once again, and Winona grinned back brightly, feeling like maybe, just maybe, they were all going to be okay after all.
The next day, during their first Defence Against the Dark Arts class of the year, Winona was left with the knowledge that that hopeful feeling couldn't have been further away if it had run in the other direction, screaming.
She was sat beside Fred, slouched in her chair as they played a game of hangman on a spare piece of parchment. Professor Umbridge wasn't there yet, but they still had time before the final bell rang. And even if Umbridge was late, it would only be points in her book. A tardy teacher was a teacher that was okay by the twins' standards.
"Any advice for how to deal with Umbridge?" George had leaned over the desk behind her to murmur it, hope clinging to his voice.
"Don't know much about her, other than that she works for Fudge," Winona shrugged.
Silence from the twins. "She works for Fudge?"
Winona looked up from the carefully illustrated hangman she was drawing with her quill, finding them staring at her in surprise. She winced. "Uh, yeah… Did I not mention that?"
"Hem, hem."
The class turned to find Professor Umbridge stood at the back of the room by the doors, a short little wand held in her hand, an unpleasant smile on her toad-like face.
"Good morning, class," she sang, beginning to slowly meander up the aisle between their seats. Winona didn't bother watching, turning back to her hangman caricature with disinterest.
The class mumbled a vague good morning in response, and Winona could have sworn the temperature in the room dialled down a few notches. Bewildered, she glanced up to see Umbridge looking most displeased.
"Now, that simply won't do," she said in her terrible, saccharine voice. "Every class I've taught so far has been just as lacklustre. I'd have thought you seventh years wouldn't be such a disappointment."
Nobody seemed to have any idea how to react to that, Winona even less than most. The class stared at her, half wondering if she were kidding. Umbridge continued on like her comment had been entirely standard.
"When I say good morning to you, I expect you to reply, good morning Professor Umbridge, in bright, clear voices. Now, let's try it again. Good morning, class."
Another beat of stunned quiet before the class mumbled, as one, "Good morning, Professor Umbridge."
Umbridge made a disappointed tutting noise, but thankfully didn't demean them any further by making them repeat the pointless exercise. "Wands away, and quills out," she ordered them. A near-silent muttering echoed throughout the class, but still everyone did as they were told.
Winona stuck her wand haphazardly into the knot of hair atop her head, watching as Umbridge flicked her wand at the board.
Defence Against the Dark Arts
A Return to Basic Principles
Winona's eyebrows shot up to her hairline but she remained silent as Umbridge began talking once more, voice so sugary, it hurt her teeth.
"Now, as I've said to the other classes I've held so far, your teaching in this subject has been fragmented at best. Due to the constant upheaval of the staff – and the fact that many of those staff did not make any attempts to follow a Ministry-approved curriculum – you are far below the standard we would expect to see by your final year in NEWT level courses.
"With my appointment as your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, these issues are about to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."
She flicked her wand at the board, and a new passage was written by magic.
Course Aims:
Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.
Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.
Winona stared hard at the words, unease tingling in her system. Something was very, seriously wrong. "Professor," she began, a frown knitting at her brow, "I'm not sure I understand-"
"Students will raise their hands if they wish to speak in my classroom."
The words were snapped with such viciousness that Winona started, staring at the pink-coated professor across the room. The whole class was perfectly silent, nobody so much as breathing. Umbridge met her stare without flinching, and Winona felt a seed of disdain take root deep in her gut.
Slowly, deliberately, Winona raised her hand. "Yes, Miss Black?" Umbridge asked, that same false-sweetness coating her voice. Some of her classmates openly gasped at the name. While Winona was no longer hiding her heritage – and in fact preferred the name Black over the falsified 'Andrews' she'd been handed as a child in afterthought – saying her name aloud felt like a challenge. Like a move in a chess game Winona hadn't known they'd begun playing.
But she refused to let any of that show on her face. She held the teacher's stare, her own eyes turning cold. "Professor," she said, layering her voice with an equal amount of sweetness. If Umbridge picked up on the mockery, she didn't let it show. "The course aims appear to only talk about defensive magic in a theoretical sense."
When Umbridge smiled, it was laced with poison. "I don't believe that was a question, dear."
Fred was utterly still from beside her, watching the exchange tensely. She hoped he wouldn't put himself on the line just to defend her, should things get out of hand – which, she was realising, was almost a certainty. "My question is at which point we will actually be using defensive magic in the classroom."
Umbridge had the audacity to blink in surprise, her pink, wrinkled mouth making a small 'o'. "And why on earth would you need to use magic in my classroom?"
Winona stared at her, dumbfounded. "Was that a joke?" she asked blandly. Fred sucked in a sharp breath from beside her, but she didn't so much as glance his way. Umbridge's perfunctory smile seemed to only grow at her words, and Winona felt her irritation flare – a dangerous feeling indeed. "Seriously, I'm asking; your face makes it difficult to tell."
Umbridge didn't react but to widen her smile, all the while her eyes were like little flecks of concrete. "I don't abide cheek in my classroom, Miss Black," she said, perfectly pleasant but for the venom that dripped from the words. "How awful it would be to discover you take after your father," she finished with a pitying tut-tut.
Most of the class held their breath, while the Slytherins on the other side of the class snickered heartily, but Winona only had eyes for Umbridge. Fury itched under her skin, and she felt magic crackling in her hair like electricity, desperate to make someone pay.
Fred's hand found her leg under the table. She tried to let his touch soothe her, but she feared it was a losing battle. "I take after my father in more ways than one," she told Umbridge, the words burning with dangerous rage.
Umbridge turned away, as if Winona wasn't worth her time. "I'll now have you all open your copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard-"
"But Winnie's right," said Fred brashly as he flicked through his textbook. "There's nothing in here about actually using spells-"
"You will raise you hand if you wish to speak, Mr Weasley," snapped Umbridge.
Fred thrust his hand high in the air, then barrelled on without waiting for her to address him. "How are we meant to learn anything if we aren't allowed to actually perform the spells ourselves? What good's writing about a spell? Anyone attacking us isn't going to stop if we shout the theory behind a Memory Charm at them."
Umbridge's eyes now looked less like concrete and more like the beady eyes of a predator. She looked hateful, sneering down her stout nose at Fred like he were nothing more than muck she'd found at the bottom of her trunk.
"And who, exactly, do you suppose might attack children like yourselves, dear?" she asked, all sugar and ice.
Fred opened his mouth, but Winona gripped his thigh hard. He didn't flinch but he did fall silent. Unfortunately, she wasn't near enough to stop anyone else from speaking up.
"We're not children," snapped George from behind her. "We're all seventeen. By the laws of the Ministry, everyone here is an adult – and we all know exactly who'll be attacking us-"
Umbridge flicked her wand hand, and George abruptly fell silent. Winona was confused until she looked over her shoulder to find a piece of tape pressed squarely over her friend's lips. Jaw falling open, she turned back to Umbridge in disbelief – a feeling shared by most of her classmates.
Umbridge was smiling, but there was no sugar in it now. There was only venom. "Now, let me be perfectly clear," she said in the quiet, restrained way a bomb ticked peacefully right before it exploded into fire and chaos and death. "There are certain rumours floating about this school, and I'd like to put them to rest here and now. You have been told that a rather famous Dark wizard is once again at large. This is a lie."
Winona's face began to grow hot, skin threatening to boil off her bones in sheer fury. Fred leaned towards her, whispering something urgently under his breath, but Winona didn't hear him. "You're calling Harry a liar?!" she demanded, voice as hot as her skin.
Umbridge just smiled again, showing little, pointed teeth. Winona wanted to punch her so hard in the mouth that she knocked those stupid teeth loose. "Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Miss Black," she said lightly, seeming to almost giggle the words, "for speaking out of turn."
"Damn straight I'm going to speak out of turn if you're going to talk shit about my cousin-"
"Detention, Miss Black," Umbridge snapped. "There is no excuse to shout at a teacher, much less use such profane language-"
"Well then don't call my cousin a fucking-"
"A week's detention, Miss Black," trilled Umbridge.
Fred was gripping her leg so tightly now that his stubby nails bit into her skin, but she barely felt it. Umbridge took a step towards her, and Winona didn't miss how Fred's free hand went to the end of the wand sticking out of his pocket.
"I should have known you'd be as much of a troublemaker as your cousin, dear," Umbridge said it sweetly, like it were a compliment. And coming from someone else, maybe it would have been. "He too, caused a rather unseemly disruption in my class. You can attend detention with him, and perhaps that will prompt you to re-evaluate your disappointing choices."
Winona opened her mouth to ask what the fuck, exactly, that was supposed to mean, but her vision flickered and there was a sudden, searing pain in her left hand. She cried out, holding her hand against her chest, the pain blooming in her hand, like someone was carving into it with a knife tip.
A hand on her leg, soft words in her ear. No vision came – there was just the pain, the panic, the blackness. Fred's hand was against her spine, stroking up and down. She focused on it, letting it pull her from the hazy panic of the not-so-distant future.
Blinking back to the present, Winona felt the pain in her hand begin to ebb away. The fuzzy world around her turned clear, and she realised two things: her hand was clutching a quill, and Umbridge was stood over her, a truly vicious sneer on her face.
"Finished your fit, have you, dear?" the toad asked sweetly. Winona said nothing, glowering up at her with hatred. "Might I see what you've predicted?" she continued in that awful, trilling voice. "It's only fair, given that you've wasted the entire class's time."
Without breaking eye contact, Winona gripped the parchment she'd scribbled on and thrust it at their teacher. Umbridge took it, scanning whatever she'd drawn. Unexpectedly, she giggled, which didn't bode well for Winona. She doubted she'd somehow predicted a hilarious joke in that blind, painful stupor.
She half expected Umbridge to destroy the parchment, so Winona wouldn't get to see what she'd drawn, but to her surprise she dropped it, letting it float down to the desk, sick amusement dancing in her eyes. "A week's detention, Miss Black," she reminded her primly. "You begin tonight. My office at five o'clock."
Winona stared down at the parchment as it settled into place in front of her, surprised to find it wasn't a drawing at all, but rather a sentence, written in her own, familiar handwriting.
I must always obey my betters.
Class was rather uneventful after that. Winona was too drained by her vision to bother arguing any more, and Fred was too worried about her to start anything, either. George seemed ready to charge at this wasp's nest with a wand, until Winona caught his eye over her shoulder and shook her head once.
None of them could talk, so they settled for copying down everything on the board, silently seething, each in their own way.
The bell rang and the class began to automatically rise to their feet.
"Hem-hem."
Everybody froze halfway out of their seats. Umbridge was staring at them from her place behind her ornate wooden desk, thin eyebrows raised. Nobody spoke; they just stared at her, waiting for whatever was going to happen, to happen.
"The bell does not dismiss you, children," she told them sternly, "I dismiss you." Slowly, unsure exactly what the fuck was happening, everybody sank back down into their seats. Umbridge was silent a long few moments, drawing it out, and then said, perfectly sweet, "You are dismissed. I'll see you at the same time next week."
Her beady eyes flickered to Winona, her stare seeming to say, "Except you. I'll see you tonight in detention. And you're going to loathe it."
Winona didn't bother responding in anyway. She grabbed her bag and stormed out of the classroom, barely even waiting for her friends to follow.
Fred caught up with her a hall over. He'd been calling her name, but she hadn't heard over the roar of her own blood in her ears, so he gripped her elbow and tugged her to a gentle stop. George was only a step behind, with their other friends hovering warily nearby.
Winona caught George's eyes and shook her head once more. He turned immediately to Lee and the girls, all of whom looked more than concerned. "Come on, guys," he said quietly. "Let's get to the Great Hall before they run out of sandwiches. Remember that time there was a ham shortage? Lee just about lost the plot…"
His voice faded as he pointedly led the others away from them. Alicia tossed a worried look over her shoulder that Winona couldn't meet, and then they were gone, leaving Winona alone in the corridor with Fred, whose fingers were still wrapped around her arm, concerned bright in his eyes.
"When you lose your temper, you really don't do it by halves," he said conversationally.
Winona ripped her arm out of his grip, turning away from him and pressing her forehead against the cold stone of the corridor. She groaned, although it came out as more of a growl, squeezing her eyes shut tight and trying to calm herself.
Fred pressed his palm to her back, a strong presence, and Winona's growl tapered off into a sigh. "I hate her."
"After one lesson?" he asked, sounding amused.
"Hate at first sight," she muttered. "It's been known to happen."
Fred was silent, which was her first clue that something wasn't right. She opened her eyes and turned away from the wall, looking up at him. He was frowning, a little crease appearing between his brows, and she reached up to smooth it away.
"You're worried," she murmured, trailing her fingertips back down the length of his long nose.
"That price on your head – I think it would be stupid of us to forget it," he said quietly.
"You think Umbridge is going to sell me out to You-Know-Who for some extra gold?"
"I think she works for the Ministry," said Fred calmly. "And I think the Ministry can't be trusted."
And she couldn't deny the truth of the statement. Hanging her head, it was now her with the crease in her brow. Fred caught her chin in his fingers and tipped her head up again. Meeting his eyes, she took his hand in both of hers. "If I'm not safe at Hogwarts, where am I safe?" she asked helplessly.
Fred opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. Winona stared up at him, and he stared right back, looking for a moment almost as helpless as she felt. Then his eyes shuttered and the look was replaced by his usual levity.
"Well, I'll protect you, of course."
And she could have let them remain gloomy; she could have frowned and told him to take it seriously. But that wasn't who they were. And why bother with gloomy when sunny was always so much better?
With that in mind, she pressed a hand to his chest, sliding her hand up along the line of his neck and tangling her fingers in his hair. "Will you, now?" she asked flirtatiously, fluttering her eyelashes for effect. "My knight in shining armour."
"Always, sweetheart," he purred, wagging his eyebrows for effect. Winona tipped her head back and laughed, warmth blooming and settling in her veins, erasing the last of the rage that still simmered from her confrontation with Umbridge. "What d'you suppose the vision meant?" Fred wondered once she'd quieted. He didn't look worried, just curious, for which she was grateful.
"I dunno," she shrugged. "It's not often I draw words instead of pictures. Usually it means that, whatever it is, it's important."
"Important good or important bad?"
Breathing deeply, Winona shrugged again. "I guess time will tell," she said. "It always does."
A/N: Thank you all so much for your messages and reviews. Every single one fills me with so much light; hearing what you have to say is always so special to me. In that veins, two things:
One: I had a few people say that they thought Umbridge might take it easy on Winona, given that Fudge still wants her to work for him. Obviously, that isn't the case. But don't worry, for those of you who were intrigued by that storyline, I certainly haven't forgotten it ;)
Two: I'm probably not going to be updating for the entire month of November. The reason being – I'm participating in NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month, for those of you not in-the-know). It's basically a month-long, personal challenge to write a whole novel – or 50,000 words - in a single month. Obviously, this is going to be taking up a lot my time. I may post a chapter somewhere in there if I can find the time – I'm plenty of chapters ahead in my writing, but those chapters aren't proof-read and edited to my standards yet, and doing so takes time.
I want to thank you for your patience over this next month, but my hope is that at the end of it I'll have a brand-new piece of original fiction that I can eventually send out to publishers. If you're curious to follow me through the process, I talk about it a lot in my stories on Instagram, and will be posting updates there.
Either way, thank you to everyone who read and enjoyed this chapter. I hope it brought you some happiness. And I'd love to hear your thoughts, here or on my social media. Thanks again, and I hope you have a lovely week :)
Review of the week goes to: pipannna – thanks so much for leaving a review! Thanks for your kind words, and best of luck with your year 12 exam period. You're gonna do great! Much love xx
(Extra special mention to FriendlyNeighborhoodBatman once again, who is entirely responsible for this update thanks to her encouragement on Twitter in the form of kind words and So Close to Magic memes. I'm probably not meant to have a favourite reader, but you totally take the cake.)
