m&mwp.


"Bloody swot," George grumbled, collapsing onto the common room couch. "Can't believe he ratted us out."

"Well, you did give him boils. It seems only fair," Alicia says. Her eyes widen. She hadn't meant to say to that. Not out loud, anyway. And if the look George is giving her is any indication, it is most definitely not what he wanted to hear. "I just…"

"You just…?"

"I just think that you take it too far sometimes," she continues quietly. "The boils…I think it was cruel."

"Cruel?" George is incredulous. "They aren't bloody permanent. If he'd come to us instead of McGonagall, we'd have given him the antidote!"

Alicia scoffs. "That's a lie."

"Maybe." He frowns at her. "Still could've kept his mouth shut."

"He was in the hospital wing! What was he supposed to do? Lie to Pomfrey?"

The portrait swings open, and Fred comes bounding in. Much to Alicia's relief, he immediately takes his brother by the arm and drags him up to the boys' dormitories. The conversation is over.

She exhales loudly, trying to calm herself. She's not sure what came over her. Sure, she's always found some of the twins' pranks immature, but she's never let it get to her before.

But when she closes her eyes, she sees Percy's face covered in welts and frustrated tears. She wonders if it's maybe the who not the what that's getting to her now.