Chapter 7: I Don't Want to Spoil the Party

Flashback-1988- Surrey, England

Alfie was sitting in Richard's lap, giggling as his father pretended to groan under the boy's slight weight. "I don't believe you're seven. I think you're confused and you must be twenty-seven, and much too grown for cuddles, now."

"No-ooo," Alfie protests feebly, head flopping around as the older man bounces his knee. "I'm little, you're just weak!"

"Weak?! You try having a grown man in your lap, then!" Richard picks the boy up from under his arms and plops him right back in the chair, and proceeds to sit on Alfie without bearing even a fraction of his real weight, to his utter delight. His son slaps half-heartedly at his father's back, kicking his feet under him. "Get offa me, you're too big!"

"You said I was weak! I'll show you weak!"

"Alright, you're strong! You're stronger than me, promise!"

Richard stands back up and brushes off his pants, and he readjusts Alfie until the child is back in his lap. "That's what I thought," he says triumphantly, ruffling his oil-stained hand through the boy's blonde curls. "What are you going to do when you're too big for cuddles, hm? You're going to squash me."

"I'm never gonna get too big. Not for Daddy-cuddles."

The man laughs loudly. "That's what you say now," he says gleefully, placing a sloppy kiss on the boy's forehead. "Wait 'til you're Ben and Nellie's age. Suddenly, you'll think you're too big for hugs. Right, Nellie?"

Eleanor looks up from her primary school homework, and she scrunches her nose at them. "I am too big," she mumbles. "And too old."

"Nah," her father says disdainfully. "You're still itty-bitty to me. C'mon, give Daddy a squeeze, yeah?"

"I can't."

"See, Alfie? You see, your big sister was born a grown-up, right into your Mummy's arms. It was maddening, can you imagine? A whole little lady just popped into life, not even a baby like we thought."

Alfie bursts into laughter, nearly slamming his head into his father's chin. "That's not true, Nellie was a baby once."

"No, she wasn't, right Nel? Alfie, she came right out of the womb with a chequebook and tax statements. Nellie was right about to head off to university the moment she was born, but we had to put a stop to it. We told her, 'primary first, THEN uni.'"

Eleanor looks at them with a glower and shuffles in her seat at the kitchen table. "He doesn't even know what that means," she mumbles. "Can you both stop? I'm trying to do my homework."

Richard gasps dramatically, but shifts Alfie off of his lap and instructs the boy to go outside and play. "Where's Ben, Nel? Shouldn't he be down here working too?"

"He's at Peter's house," Eleanor says unenthusiastically, stressing the name with contempt. "Probably doing his homework over there."

"Ah," her father says, reclining back in his chair. "You didn't want to go?"

"I wasn't invited."

"I see. I reckon that's not very fun, is it?"

" I don't care," Eleanor grits out, knowing her mother would scorn her for her tone, but she's too angry to care. "Peter's not my friend, anyway, he's Ben's. He doesn't have to invite me."

Her father hums to himself, planting his chin in his hand as his arm rests against the table. "And you didn't want to spend the afternoon with any of your own friends."

Eleanor scoffs, not looking away from the workbook in front of her. "I like being home. Besides, Tilly said in class I was bad luck. I don't want to go to her house anymore."

"Bad luck?" he asks her. "You're not doing any magic at school, are you? Mummy talked to you about that."

"No. Tilly says every time I go to her house without Ben, the next day, school lunch is terrible. So I'm bad luck."

"That's silly."

"I thought so too. All the school lunch is terrible."

They both sit in silence, Richard not discreetly looking at her assignment over her shoulder. "Well, I rather like when you're home too, you little Magpie."

"Magpie?"

"Mhmm, you're a Magpie. See, a million-gazillion years ago, Brits used to believe that if you saw a single Magpie, it predicted terrible misfortune. But if you saw a pair of them, it was good luck. 'One for sorrow, two for joy,' it's a nursery rhyme as old as time," her father explained. Eleanor's face screwed up offendedly, but before she opened her mouth to reply, he shushed her with a hand.

"But you know what I think?"

Her face slackens. "What?"

Richard shifts his chair over so he can wrap an arm around his daughter's shoulders, and he gives her the tight squeeze she insists she's too old for. He smiles at her lack of protest because he knows his children better than they know themselves- his Nellie wants to be an adult just like her parents, but she's still ten years old, and he doesn't think she'll ever grow too old for cuddles in his eyes.

"I think Brits are full of it," he laughs. "Because anybody who's ever come across a Magpie, even one that's all alone, would know that they're incredibly smart, striking creatures. There are dozens of other cultures that believe they're sacred, bringers of fortune and fearlessness, the most intelligent animal in the world. And I, for one, agree."

"Why? Maybe they are bad luck. Maybe I am, too."

"Because, Nellie," Richard says warmly. "You're MY Magpie, and you've brought me nothing but the best luck a man could have."

Eleanor looks at him for a moment, looking for any sign of exaggeration or mistruth, but sees nothing but her father's earnest smile and bright, blue eyes that look just like her own.

"Now, what do you say, my little Magpie, shall we go to the shed and tinker around a bit? Just you and me."

Homework long-forgotten, she'd never refuse an offer as wonderful as working in his shed.

The Walkman has broken yet again.

Eleanor nearly screams at the stupid thing, dumbfounded that a device that was once a marveled piece of Muggle technology can possibly fail in running even the most basic of its functions. Foolishly, she thinks the music player is protesting its frequent use, like it's trying to tell her, Nel, get a life, for Merlin's sake.

Two weeks have passed since she met her mother in Hogsmeade, and Ben is acting no less suspiciously than he had when she'd written their mum a letter. He makes no mention of the talk he had in McGonagall's office that following Monday, though he'd smiled at her when she inquired. "We just had a nice chat, that's all," he'd said with a small grin. "No need to lose your head about it."

But she is losing her head. If her brother's recent behavior hasn't been enough cause for concern, she's seen him talking to Fred and George like they aren't the bane of his sister's existence. Ben doesn't talk about that, either. All he does is reassure her that he's fine, that everything's fine, even when it is very obvious to her that things are not.

It's a Friday evening, and Eleanor, Ben, and Alfie are sitting at the Ravenclaw table for dinner per their usual arrangement. Alfie's chatters on about a girl in his class, one he insists is the smartest person in the world, but Eleanor finds that she isn't really listening to anything he's saying because she's too distracted by her other brother across the table.

Ben is shooting looks over at the Gryffindors ten feet away, right in the direction of the Weasley twins. He waves a hand at them and shakes his head, before quickly glancing over at his sister. It's a mystifying interaction, one Ben will undoubtedly pretend she doesn't see. It reminds her of the words her mother had said at Madam Puddifoot's. It would be healthy for the both of you to gain a sense of privacy from each other.

What a load of bollocks, she thinks.

"-She's got the strangest glasses," Alfie says excitedly, nearly jumping in his seat. "But she says she can see all sorts of things with 'em, like these things called Wrackspurts, and-"

"-Ben, what are you looking at?" Eleanor interrupts. Ben spins around in his seat, eyes wide with alarm.

"What?"

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing."

"Obviously, it's something."

"It doesn't matter."

"It does, if it matters to you."

Ben looks down at his lap, cheeks flushing as his eyes nervously dart around the table. "It's not a big deal, really," he says quietly. "It's just... Fred and George are asking me to sit with them for dinner."

Eleanor blinks. Intellectually, she knows Ben has said a sentence that should make sense, but she can't understand what each of those words means together. She waits silently for the rest of whatever he's trying to tell her, perhaps a quick laugh to indicate that he's making a joke, but nothing follows.

"What?" she asks stupidly, sounding silly even to her own ears. She tucks a short lock of hair behind her fingers in an attempt to hear him better. Because obviously, he's misspoken, or pulling her leg, or terribly confused.

"Yeah," Ben says sheepishly. "They've been asking me for days now. I don't want to keep, y'know, ignoring them."

Since when are they all such good friends? What have I missed?

"Oh."

Alfie glances between them, mouth shut. She can feel the younger boy's trepidation as much as she feels her own. "Do you… are you…?" Eleanor trails off awkwardly. "When did…"

"It doesn't matter, like I said," Ben replies, tone hurried and impatient. "I'll just tell them no. It's fine."

She should feel vindicated at her brother's rejection, but it's evident that he doesn't want to reject the offer from the Weasley's. Her twin is looking at the Gryffindor table with anticipation, perhaps even a tiny bit of hope gleaming in his eye, but his expression is downcast at the prospect. She can practically see the engines turning in Ben's head- he knows his sister will be disappointed if he leaves his own designated seat, and he's never been one to intentionally upset her. Not intentionally.

Eleanor has a million questions, none of which Ben is going to answer if his abrupt shut-downs of her previous questions are any indication. Her heart clenches painfully in her chest as she glances between her brother and the Weasley's two tables away, one of whom is looking right back at her expectantly. She knows what Ben wants her to do, he knows that this very obvious back-and-forth between her twin and the Gryffindors is a discreet way of asking permission, and she knows that she isn't in any position to tell him 'no.'

"You…want to sit with them," she states more than she asks. It stings more than she thought, the sudden realization that Ben has somehow made friends with these people and she didn't even know about it, and she tucks her hands between her legs. Ben rolls his eyes, he and shakes his head too-casually.

"I mean, they're not so awful," he responds, the glimmer in his eye betraying his earnestness. "It's fine, Nel, I'll just tell them-"

"Are you…friends with them?"

"No, Nel, it's not like that. We're just… look, George apologized to me the other day. I won't get into it, but we're… I'm letting go of some past resentment, alright?" Ben explains tediously. His leg is bouncing under the table nervously and he's not meeting her gaze; it doesn't take a genius to know that there's obviously much more to the story she's not privy to.

Ben is moving on, a voice that sounds suspiciously like her mother says in her head. You need to let him be independent.

Resignation fills the void in the pit of her stomach- it feels like rubbish. Like she's eaten something too-sweet for her palate. Telling Ben what to do won't improve whatever tension has appeared out of thin air between her and her brother, and really, the hope in his eyes prove to be a sobering realization that he really does want to go over there to the Weasley's, which means he does not want to be here.

"-You should go, then," she tells him clumsily, taking a long sip of her pumpkin juice to refresh a sudden dryness in her throat. The offer tastes sharp on her tongue because she doesn't mean it, not at all, but she knows it's what he wants to do. It's what their mother would want her to say.

Both twins stare at the other in surprise, Eleanor feeling regret the minute the words spill from her mouth. "You should," she insists softly. "If they've been asking you for days, it…it would be rude to continue to say no."

Ben looks at her like she's grown a second head, and Alfie's face is intentionally blank. "You don't mean that," Ben tells her, the slightest intonation of hope laced through careful nonchalance. "You don't want me going over there."

"I… I want you to do what you want," she says.

"But you'll be mad if I do."

"No," Eleanor promises him. "I'll only be mad if you're pushing yourself to do something you don't want to do. But if you do… want that… you should."

"…Really?"

"Yes."

It doesn't take another second for the boy to rise from his chair, throwing his satchel over his head. "Aces," he says with an appreciative smile. "You promise you're not upset, Nel?"

"Not at all," she lies. Because she is upset, and her brother would have to truly be blind not to see it, but he either willfully ignores it or doesn't notice at all. "Go. Have fun, I suppose."

Ben stands next to the table, wrists wringing anxiously. "I…I don't think you can join us. But I'd extend the offer if I thought I could," he adds, though he'd expect her to say yes, anyway. Or maybe, he doesn't want me to, she thinks unhelpfully. "…But Alfie, you could. If you wanted," he says as a very belated afterthought.

"No thanks," Alfie says politely. "Someone's got to keep Eleanor company."

Her younger brother's sentiment is thoughtful, because Alfie always is, but she feels embarrassed that perhaps, even the youngest of her siblings feels obligated to stay behind. He's the baby, not the oldest child- it's not supposed to work like this. She doesn't need to be babysat.

None of the Vance children say anything at that, and Ben looks a little more reluctant than he did a moment prior. "Go," Eleanor insists with the weakest smile she's ever attempted. She shoos him away with a hand, trying to look as unbothered as she wants to feel. "I'll be completely fine, it's not as if you're going to another country."

"Alright, I believe you. But…er, do me a favor?"

Eleanor's faint smile diminishes into a glower. What else could he possibly want from her, now that she's given him the all-clear? "What now?"

"I need you to trust me," Ben says, his expression indiscernible. "Can you just… I don't know, trust my instincts on this?"

It's not as though she doesn't trust her twin. She just doesn't trust him to make the best decisions, but it bothers her that Ben seems to know she doesn't. The question catches her so off guard, that all she can do is swallow and give him a single nod.

Ben gives her another grateful smile, and he walks over to the Gryffindor table. She watches as the Weasley's immediately move over, making enough room for the boy to squeeze in beside them. There's no malicious mischief in their eyes, from what she can tell. At least, no more than usual. George gives him a slap on the back in a manly greeting, and her brother blushes as he says hello to the Weasley's friends.

Ben gives her a thumbs-up, and he looks…strange. Not quite happy, but relieved. She returns the favor, giving him an unfeeling thumbs-up, because she knows he needs the reassurance.

Eleanor and Alfie sit silently at the table, his penetrating stare digging a hole into the side of her face "You could've gone, if you wanted," Eleanor tells Alfie next to her, feeling ashamed that perhaps she's kept him from whatever fun Ben's enjoying. "I don't want to keep you, if there's someone you'd rather sit with."

Alfie's eyes, which are always unusually wide but somehow far away, glance towards her. "Why would I want to sit with someone else?" he asks her simply, his face an empty, baby-faced chasm that makes Eleanor's clench with something else entirely. It's fondness, she thinks, looking at the blonde boy next to her.

"Just… if you ever want to do something else, like spend time with the other Second-Years. You don't have to stay behind just for me. If that's what you want to do, you can tell me," she says.

Alfie tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. "Okay," he replies vaguely. "I don't think there's anywhere I'd rather be."

It's rare that she and her youngest brother spend any time alone without Ben, but there are a few moments like these, when it's just the two of them, that she realizes that somehow he's grown a lot from the little boy that used to steal chips off of her dinner plate.

"You're the only person who doesn't mind if I accidentally drink your pumpkin juice instead of my own."

Eleanor lets out a huffed laugh, because maybe Alfie isn't all that grown, anyway.

She smiles at him, giving him a fond jerk of her elbow to his ribs. "Are you always going to be this pleasant to me?" she asks him sweetly. "Or are you going to turn fifteen and become a nightmare?"

"I don't know. Maybe I will be, or maybe I'll become a ghoul instead," he replies, pulling down on his face mockingly like his features look like they've melted. She rolls her eyes, and Alfie smiles at her. "But I don't think I'll change very much, not really. I don't think I've changed much at all."

"No," she tells Alfie. "Thank Rowena one of us hasn't."

George is quite relieved to see that Ben isn't an unwelcome presence at the Gryffindor table. He's just as quiet as he was in First Year, hardly the sort to launch into conversation, but he finds his footing in the midst of the loudness around him like he's been there along. He doesn't laugh, but he smiles when Lee and Fred make jabs at each other and he's comparably patient to their lot. He's doing all the right things without looking like he's trying too hard, and he doesn't seem to mind all the noise.

And most importantly, he doesn't look completely miserable or desperate to escape, which George thinks is a vast improvement from what he initially suspected might happen. Fred is careful in their interactions, per George's warning two weeks ago when he'd told his twin of his progress. He supposes that's the best possible outcome from his loose-lipped brother, but Ben doesn't seem to pay much mind.

At dinner, Alicia and Angelina give Ben their full attention. Inwardly, he wonders if they're genuinely intrigued by his demeanor, or if they're fascinated by a new presence, but he realizes it doesn't really matter to him either way.

If Ben is willing to try for something akin to the friendship they once had, there's a marker of hope that not all has been lost between the Weasley's and the Vance's. George has always been an optimist, fully believing that the tides can turn in one's favor with enough sheer willpower and good fortune, because how couldn't he be? He and Fred share years of mischief and debauchery between them, and pure luck has allowed him to suffer little to no consequences.

But Eleanor is still sitting at the Ravenclaw table, her expression morose at Ben's new arrangement. If he didn't know any better, he'd feel as though he'd done something wrong, inviting her brother to sit with them.

But a win is a win in any form it comes in, and he'd be a fool not to take the tentative hand Ben has outstretched to him.

"You don't like Quidditch?!" Angelina screeches at the Ravenclaw boy next to him, her mouth gaping like she's been stabbed in the chest. "How can you dislike it?!"

Ben shrugs, cheeks flushed from all the new attention he's receiving from total strangers. "I don't know," he replies. "The way people dislike all sorts of other things, I reckon."

"Well, I reckon the reason you don't like it is because you haven't given it a fighting chance. Don't you pay attention to the Ravenclaw team? They're not half-bad."

"Not especially. I mean, I guess it could be sort of interesting, maybe. The physics of the game has always intrigued me, the way you all seem to know how to make yourselves go faster and know just how much force to use. But Nel and I never really watch the games."

"Physics?"

"Oh, t's a Muggle science. Don't mind me," he waves off, laughing uncomfortably. "Those rules don't really apply in the Wizarding world, anyway."

Alicia clasps her hands together on the table, propping up her chin in fascination. "You probably know loads about Muggle things, right? You're, like, proper brilliant since you're a Ravenclaw."

Ben stutters out a laugh, unsure if the Gryffindor girl is teasing or not. "O-Oh, I mean, I only know things because my dad was a Muggle. And I didn't grow up in the magical community, at least, not until I came to Hogwarts. I don't think that makes me smarter than anyone else."

"But you're a Ravenclaw," Alicia says persistently. "And your lot is supposed to be really smart. Besides, George already said you and your sister were, so no need to be modest."

The Gryffindor leans over the table, shaking his head dismissively at Ben's wide-eyed stare. "I mean, that's just common knowledge, isn't it?" he chuckles.

"I…didn't realize people were paying us much attention."

"Well, you're wrong," Alicia responds, grinning at George suspiciously. "The Weasley's pay you loads of it. We've been hearing about Eleanor Vance for ages."

Angelina slaps her friend on the arm in warning, eyes narrowed in a thinly- veiled threat. Ben glances at George, expressionless for the first time since he's sat down. "You talk about my sister?" he asks tonelessly.

"Not badly, of course!" Angelina interrupts before Alicia can get in another misspoken word. "She's just, y'know, really…interesting. It's hard not to notice."

"You're both really close, aren't you?" Alicia asks dreamily. When he nods, she smiles genuinely at him. "That's so adorable. I wish my brother and I were close like that. Instead, all he does is give me back the things he steals from my bedroom and wraps them up like presents on Christmas."

"We're twins," Ben says. "Hard not to be close, we were living in close-quarters for quite a while. Nine months, to be exact."

Fred chokes on his pumpkin juice and pounds on his own chest to get a breath of air. "I'm sorry, was that a joke, I heard?!"

Ben smiles. "Was it funny?"

"You people act like you don't see talk to a pair of twins every day," George protests, watching Angelina and Alicia maintain their gazes on the dark-haired Ravenclaw. "What about me and Fred?!"

"Eh, you two are old news," Alicia bites back. "Besides, he has a girl twin. Which makes him different than you buffoons."

"How do you figure that?!" Fred exclaims. "Twins are twins! And we're-"

"-Identical!" George finishes.

Angelina swipes a hand at them carelessly. "But we know that already. We don't know Ben, but because he's got a girl twin, I'm sure he's much nicer to ladies than the likes of you."

Fred and George look at each other, floundering at such an admonishment. "We are nice to ladies!" George blurts out quickly.

"Not our fault you and Alicia are hardly ladies to begin with," Fred murmurs, going unheard by everyone but George, who shoots him a sharp look.

"Y'know, your sister could've come over here to sit with us too, Ben," Angelina offers kindly. "It's an open invitation. She can sit with us anytime she likes."

Ben takes a swig of his pumpkin juice, and taps against the mug, ignoring Alicia's obvious ogling. "That's nice of you," he tells her. "But she can't, I'm afraid."

George's brows furrow at this. She can't, he wonders. Or she won't?

The rest of the dinner conversation goes rather unremarkably, Fred and Lee chatting about Quidditch while the girls drill Ben on everything from his favorite color to books neither of them has read but they're sure their new Ravenclaw friend has, because he's a relative genius in comparison to the boys they normally hang out with. By the end of it, Ben decides to walk out of the Great Hall to his own dormitory, weakly deflecting Alicia's attempts to get him to come to the Gryffindor Common Room.

George jogs after him and slaps a hand on his shoulder, proud of the Ravenclaw and honestly, himself, for such a smooth introduction. "That was fun, wasn't it?" George asks the taller boy insistently. "You had a good time, yeah?"

Ben blinks in surprise. "Yeah," he says, sounding astonished at his own answer. "It went…well."

"See? Told you. Being mates is gonna be loads of fun just like that. Your best bet is to keep coming around, I think."

He hopes it sounds as convincing as he thinks it does because he wants Ben to socialize with his friends more often. The oldest Vance boy isn't half as much of the stickler he thought he might be, and he suspects that if all goes well, Eleanor will surely join them sometime.

He's positive she will.

"I'll consider it," Ben responds, his tone affirmative in a way George can only assume means, of course I will, but I don't want you to know that.

"Good!" George says with a hardy pat. "Brilliant, really. I think Alicia really took to you."

Ben's cheery demeanor falters at this, and he stops in his place. "Oh," he says. "Like…she-"

"I've known Alicia a long time, mate, and I'm pretty sure she fancies you," he jibes not un-subtly. "Don't worry, you're a good lad. I can drop a good word in for you, if you want."

And maybe, you can leave one with Eleanor, for the love of Godric, he doesn't say aloud but thinks all the same.

But to his confusion, Ben laughs at the offer, and he shakes his head. "No," he blurts out suddenly. "I mean, no thank you. You don't have to do that…really."

"Aw, c'mon, Bennie-boy, Alicia's a good-looking witch! And she's nice enough, though I think you've got that covered between the both of you."

"Yeah, well, that's…thoughtful. But really, um, I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything at all," he replies, smiling but his eyes suddenly turn serious. "Really…don't."

George tilts his head, bewildered at the change in Ben's face. "Fine," he acquiesces, biting at the inside of his cheek. "I won't utter a word, you've got a promise."

Ben's face fills with relief. "Thanks. I-"

"Hey, hey, no need to mention it. I get it. You sensitive Ravenclaw men, you like to take your time with that sort of thing and think it through," George says jokingly. Ben freezes for a moment, but he nods over-enthusiastically.

"You…you, er, got me," the dark-haired boy laughs weakly. "So, you won't say anything?"

"Nah, no worries. You're secret's safe with me."

Ben waves him a quick goodbye, and despite the successful night, George is glad he's kept some other secrets to himself, too.

The minute George walks to the Gryffindor Common Room, Alicia clutches at his arm like he's been gone for hours. "Thank Godric you're here," she says exasperatedly, pulling him over to the couch and shoving him onto the cushions. "I've got a million questions to ask you."

"Oh Merlin," Angelina sighs amusedly. "George, prepare yourself. Spinnet thinks she's in love."

Alicia's face turns ruddy at the accusation, and she spins around and points a finger right in her friend's face. "Oi, I am not! You said he was fit, too!"

"Well, I'm not blind, Leesh, I was just agreeing with you."

"So you do think he's fit."

"Don't worry, he's all yours."

Alicia sighs, expression heartstruck and positively love-sick, and George doesn't think he's ever heard his teammate sound quite so…girlish.

"What the bloody hell's going on?" he asks, eyes wide with apprehension. "I haven't been gone for that long, what are you on about?"

Fred slings an arm over his shoulder and pulls him close. "Alicia's hot for Ben," he whispers mirthfully. "Two sets of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, sitting in a tree…"

George shrugs him off and glowers at him. "Yeah, got it, Freddie, thanks for the visual."

Fred flounces over to Angelina and forces their friend to do a twirl, and he tucks her into his chest. "Ain't it grand, Angie? Look at all the love in the air! If only you and I had some luck, what a shame."

Angelina shoves at him, her expression uncharacteristically more annoyed than usual. "You're an idiot," she bites out. "I've got plenty of prospects."

"Like who? The only thing you'll be wrapping your hand around in the near future is that wand of yours-"

"-Shut up!"

"No need to be shy, Johnson, c'mon…"

Fred and Angelina bicker back and forth as Alicia tosses herself in the seat next to George. "You know, you're stupid nearly ninety-nine percent of the time," she quips, poking a finger at his arm. "But I'm glad you brought Ben over. He is so fit."

George rolls his eyes but smiles, all the same, thinking of the promise he made to the Ravenclaw and decides to be careful with the given topic. "You think so?" he asks. "That's a relief. I'd resigned myself to think you'd be planning a future with a troll living under a bridge somewhere."

Alicia doesn't take the bait, too distracted by her own thoughts to argue. "He's got such nice hair… and he's so tall! Spending all this time with you and Fred and Lee really made me forget what an attractive boy was supposed to look like."

"Thanks, Alicia, that's kind of you," Lee says from the floor, laying next to the fire tiredly. "At least we don't have to be ogled by this one, right, mates?"

Fred gives him a small two-finger salute. "Trust me, I'm not jealous of the poor chap. Alicia's gonna sink her teeth right into him like the vicious little wench she is, and I prefer biting of the surlier type."

"Again with the visuals, Fred," George says with a laugh. "You witches told me to act more like a gentleman, and here you are, lusting after the first boy you've been able to terrify."

"Ben's not terrified of me. He's an odd one, but you wouldn't know that because you were just too busy making eyes at a girl who pretends you don't exist." Alicia clutches her hands to her chest and bites down on her lip, eyes starry and distant. "He's positively dreamy, he is. Maybe even more handsome than Cedric Diggory, and decidedly not a Hufflepuff, to boot."

"Aren't we enough to look at?" Fred asks her, motioning towards himself. "I'll have you know I've been told I'm dashing."

"Maybe you're confused because witches are dashing away from you, Fred. You and your brother both look you've gone and dipped your heads in a vat of orange paint."

"Hey, what've I done to deserve that?" George demands. Alicia shrugs. "I can't really insult one without insulting the other. Sorry, George."

He's not offended by the comment, because whether or not Alicia Spinnet finds him handsome is hardly of concern. There's only one person he wants to think of him as dreamy, anyway.

"It'll be brilliant, me and Ben, and you and Eleanor," Alicia says excitedly, swatting him in the arm as if she's trying to convince him that it's true. "Such a shame his sister's such a killjoy. I'll be ancient by the time she comes around."

"Don't let Ben hear that, Leesh, he'll go mental," Fred warns, bouncing one of Angelina's curls off his finger as she fights him off. George nods in agreement, partially because he knows Ben would drop them all like a pot of hot water if he knew anyone was making any disparaging comments towards his twin.

"You talk about my sister?"

"Not badly, of course! She's just, y'know, really…interesting. It's hard not to notice."

Angelina was seldom right, but it wasn't an inaccurate description. He'd never entertain that sort of conversation.

"Yeah, knock it off, Alicia," George chides seriously. "Not her fault Fred and I've acted like prats."

Fred smirks. "And still do, to this very day."

Alicia frowns. "But Angie and I tolerate you fine enough," she tries. "If we can, why can't she? She's got brothers, she's surely used to how dumb boys can be."

Great question, he thinks. "Because she's not like you, and Ben's not like us, I dunno," he says helplessly. "It doesn't matter. The point is, she doesn't like me right now, but she will…eventually."

Eventually.

A/N: Thank you to those that have taken a time to leave me such kind reviews, I am so grateful! I love that people are enjoying the story. Chapter 7 is now UP, friends! What are we thinking? Please leave a review, I'd love to hear what y'all have to say 3