London, May 1999

Friday nights at the Leaky Cauldron were always the busiest. Every table was usually full, and so was the bar. Most of the employees loved it. They loved seeing the familiar faces of the regulars and they loved seeing familiar faces that perhaps hadn't been in a while. Tom and Martha had owned and run the pub for nearly thirty-five years and they knew even more people than the wait staff. The two of them never complained about how busy the place got—in fact they loved it. The people were the best part of the job, they always said.

I, on the other hand, was content to not make conversation with any of the customers. I'd started working at the pub about a month ago, in mid-April, and had been assigned the job of cleaning tables, which was much more preferable in my opinion. Tom had said we'd see how things went and perhaps one day I could be a waitress, but part of me hoped that day never came. It wasn't that I thought taking food and drink orders was hard, necessarily. I just didn't particularly enjoy the crowds that the weekends were known to bring. And besides that, it was the fact that people liked to make conversation. And the drunker they got, the friendlier they got. But I was a pretty private person. I didn't mind hearing other people's stories, but sharing my own, well, I'd rather not.

I wasn't here to make friends. I was here to save up some money and leave as soon as possible. On to the next place. Except I currently didn't even know where the next place was.

On this particular Friday night, I was on a roll. I had just cleared off and cleaned a newly deserted table in record time, preparing it for another guest to immediately sit down. Sighing in exhaustion, I made my way back towards the kitchen, the bin of dirty dishes and utensils floating along in front of me.

"Tired already, Mouse?" Kyle, the assistant chef, asked as I dumped the dishes in the sink, blowing a puff of air out of my mouth as I did so.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head at the nickname Kyle had christened me with. Mouse. On account of me being as quiet as one. I wasn't even sure if I liked the nickname yet. I'd originally thought he was doing it to make fun of me, but Kyle didn't have that kind of demeanor. Plus, according to Martha, the nickname was a sign of acceptance from Kyle. If he hadn't liked me, he wouldn't have given me a nickname. On one hand, I liked that I had something that made me feel like I fit in, but at the same time, I reminded myself, I wasn't here to fit in. I was just passing through. Besides, it wasn't as if Kyle's drawing attention to my quietness was anything new. I'd been dealing with people commenting on it in one way or another for nearly my entire life.

"I saw that eye roll," Kyle said now, glancing over at me from the stove, where he had quiet a few meals cooking at once. He was working on one by hand while the others cooked themselves by magic. "I don't see why you don't like the nickname. I worked hard on coming up with it."

"I'm sure you did," I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck as I rolled my shoulders.

"Come on, don't get tired now," Kyle laughed. "It's only nine-thirty. We still have three more hours to go!" He exuberantly shook the frying pan in his hand, sending the contents jolting around, some even up into the air, before catching them again and setting the pan back on the stove.

"Just when I thought my shift was going by fast," I sighed, turning around.

"Well, it's about to go by even faster, dear," Martha said, bustling into the room.

"Where've you been?" Kyle asked. "You disappeared twenty minutes ago."

"Rachel's going home sick," Martha announced, rummaging in the storage cabinet in the corner before emerging with an apron. "She started vomiting out back by the trash bins."

"Yikes," Kyle winced. "But better there than on a customer. Or back here in the kitchen."

"I'm going to need you to fill in for her, Sophie dear," Martha said. She turned to me and pressed the apron into my hands before handing me Rachel's notepad. "She's been working section three. That's the one in the front right corner. The corner booth to the door and back five table rows. That's the area you're in charge of."

I stared at her, mouth agape as I started to panic. "But—but—I've never—who'll clean the tables afterwards? Who'll take my spot cleaning them?" It was a last ditch effort to find an excuse to get out of my current situation.

"Noah and Steven can handle it," Martha said quickly, referring to the other two boys on duty whose jobs were to help clean tables.

"But I haven't had any sort of training," I spluttered, gripping tightly to the notepad in my hands.

Martha glanced at me and smiled. She had already busied herself beside Kyle, preparing the next meal that had to be done. "You'll be fine. Just do your best."

"What about Tom?"

"He'll have to keep his mouth shut. We're short staffed and it's a full house out there! We need help. Besides, this is a good opportunity to prove you can do it!"

"But I don't know if I can!" I argued, albeit a bit shamefully. I hated trying to get out of helping Tom and Martha. Especially after all they had done for me in the past month. Martha had been completely willing to welcome me in with open arms and disappointing her was particularly unbearable. On the other hand, Tom was a little tougher where I was concerned and this was a good opportunity to earn some bonus points with him, so Martha did have a point.

"You can do it," Martha said firmly, glancing over at me.

"But Sophie does have a point, Martha," Kyle said. "We don't call her Mouse for nothing." His lip twitched into a smirk as he looked at me. I blushed a deep crimson color as my stomach churned even more.

Martha looked over at me again. "I know you're rather shy, darling, and I know you aren't much for chit chat, but you're going to have to pull through for tonight. We need the help. Besides, you know the deal. We take you in, you work for us here. And that means being able to take on any job you're assigned, not just the ones that make you comfortable."

I flushed even more and looked away as I nodded. She was right. Swallowing thickly, I slid the apron on and tied it behind me before picking up the notepad again.

"Good girl," Martha beamed, turning back to her work. "Just remember, be your usual sweet, kind self, but…do speak up a bit. It's hard to hear out there as it is what with all the people."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, trying to calm my queasy stomach. Maybe I had caught whatever stomach virus Rachel had. Wishful thinking, I thought to myself. All I have is a bad case of shy and reserved.

But as I made my way out of the kitchen and towards Rachel's section of tables, I felt as if I were shaking uncontrollably. I wondered what Tom and Martha would say if I took people's orders by sitting on the floor.

Swallowing, I stopped at Rachel's first table, the table in front of the window. "H-hi, my name is Sophie and I'll be filling in for the remainder of Rachel's shift tonight. Is there anything else I can get for you?" I asked, noticing the couple seemed to already have their food in front of them. I could only hope that they just couldn't tell how red my cheeks were.

The man, who was balding and had a droopy mustache let out a sigh. "I ordered this sandwich with no cheese." He picked up his plate and thrust it out towards me. "We got our food twenty minutes ago and I've been waiting for our waitress to come back so I could tell her." He shoved the plate even more in my direction. "Please take it back. And make sure you tell them to make an entirely new sandwich seeing as this one is now also cold. I ordered it toasted, which means I wanted it warm."

I felt my face heat up even more. "I'm—I'm sorry, I'll bring you another," I said hastily, my voice quiet as I took the plate from him.

"I'd also like a refill on my water," his wife said, passing me her empty glass.

"Yes, of course," I replied, taking it in my free hand before turning and hurrying towards the kitchen.

"Hey, waitress, could you bring us extra napkins?" the woman a few tables down called out as I passed.

"Mhm," I squeaked out, still breezing towards the kitchens.

"Here's the bill, we're all set," an older woman from the next table said, thrusting some money at me.

"Erm, thank you!" I replied, shifting the empty water glass and trying not to drop the coins as I continued to balance the plate I was holding in my left. I wished I hadn't left my wand in the kitchen when I'd dropped off the dirty dishes earlier. Clearly, I needed it.

"Oi, where are those drinks we ordered?" one member of the large group of boys in the corner booth shouted. "We've been waiting for ages!"

I turned and glanced at him, but didn't respond in my hurry to get back to the kitchen. A second later, I mentally kicked myself for not answering as one of the boys muttered about the horrible service. Answering him and telling him the drinks would be out shortly was the right thing to do anyway, but I was already feeling overwhelmed. I could barely think straight. And I wasn't looking forward to waiting on that table. Those boys were already drunk from the looks of things.

Just as I was turning away from glancing over my shoulder, I stopped short and had to fight not to drop everything in my hands as I almost ran smack into someone weaving through tables to get to, I assumed, the bar.

I gasped and mumbled a quick apology, grimacing in pain as the other person stepped on my foot in the confusion, practically snapping my toes off in the process.

"Oh no, sorry!" the person said.

I looked up, unable to get by him since he had stopped in front of me. He looked about my age and had flaming red hair, bright blue eyes, and freckle covered skin.

I only glanced at him quickly before looking down at the objects I was holding, still trying to keep them steady. And I didn't reply to his apology either. I just wanted to get back in the kitchen and breathe for a second and get myself organized before I forgot everything that had already been asked of me.

"First day?" the guy asked. I glanced up again to see him tilting his head to one side in amusement. Great, he was laughing at me. I must have looked like such an idiot.

His guess was close enough, though. It wasn't my first day working here, but it was my first day as a waitress. I didn't bother to answer him, though. Instead, I continued to shuffle to the side in an attempt to get back to the kitchen. If I didn't get the balding man's new sandwich to him soon, I was sure he'd explode. Just that thought alone made me nervous and that wasn't counting the thought of all the other tables I had to get to.

"I've never seen you here before," the redhead went on. "My brother and I come every week." He didn't seem to notice that I was in a hurry. Either that or he didn't care.

I gave him a weak, polite smile and shifted completely around him.

"Hey, wait a second," the boy said, reaching out for my arm, but now that my path was cleared, I darted out of his reach and managed to finally reach the kitchen, where I deposited the sandwich on the counter. I half-smiled at Kyle. "Man at table thirty-one didn't want cheese on this. And now since it's cold, he wants a whole new one. Sorry."

Kyle gave me a sympathetic look. "Don't mention it. I mean, it's a pain, but it happens all the time. We get busy, and sometimes our brains stop working for a bit." He shrugged. "It doesn't matter to me if they send food back. It means that I get to eat it." He took the plate, grabbed the sandwich off of it and took a bite. Then he set it off to the side as he started making a new one for the man at table thirty-one. "How's it going out there?"

"Awful," I said. "I don't know what I'm doing, and about five different people shouted things at me on my way back. I'm going to mess something up. I can feel it. I can barely even remember what they asked." I shook my head as I started to put away the money that had been thrusted into my hand.

"Come on, Mouse," Kyle said. "It's your first day waitressing. And you were flung into it with no notice. Plus, it's Friday night. We're busy. It's not the perfect chance to ease you into the job. Tom and Martha will understand if you mess up a little bit. Cut yourself some slack. And, I mean, once you loosen up, you're pretty fun to be around. So it's only a matter of time before you'll be chatting up those customers like it's nothing."

"I don't even talk to you like it's nothing," I protested. "Or so you say."

"True," Kyle said. "You could still do with some opening up about yourself. And you are definitely still more quiet than talkative. But at least you talk to me now. Your first few days here, I don't think you spoke a word to anyone, except Tom and Martha and even then, the words you gave them probably reached a grand total of five."

I glared at him as I finished putting away the money and he laughed. "It's so busy out there," I sighed, leaning backwards against the counter and massaging my neck with my hands. "It's—overwhelming."

"That's Friday night for you," Kyle said, sliding the new sandwich back towards me. "You'll get used to it."

I took the sandwich and smiled back before startling. "Oh! I need those drinks for the corner table!"

Kyle scoffed and rolled his eyes. "That rowdy group of kids? In the instances they get loud enough, I can hear them all the way back here. They come in here every week, around dinnertime. Stay for hours. Eat, drink, get rowdy. Obnoxious. The whole lot of 'em. They're probably already wasted now and it's only just before ten."

I groaned. "I hope they're nice drunks, but I didn't get that sense from being out there."

Kyle scoffed again. "No one here likes to wait on them," he said.

"Great, that makes me feel loads better," I groaned.

Kyle smiled. "Want me to spit in the drinks?"

I let out a giggle as I rushed to get their drinks together, looking back at Rachel's notepad for reference. Not that I really needed to memorize much. They all wanted more firewhiskey. "Funny, Kyle."

"I'm serious," Kyle answered, slicing another sandwich in half and arranging it on a plate.

"You mess with their drinks, I'll be the one that gets alcohol splashed all over me!"

"Come on, they won't taste any difference. That's the point. A way to get revenge without anyone noticing."

"A trick I hope you don't use often, I hope?" I asked, peering back over at the tall, dark haired cook with a smile. I liked Kyle. He had been one of the people here that I had warmed up to the quickest, although he'd disagree. I was usually terribly quiet around new people, hardly talking at all mostly and preferring to stay to myself. He had been right when he said I had hardly spoken a word to anyone when I first arrived. I was uneasy and uncomfortable. But Kyle had been the first person I'd met besides Tom and Martha and he'd given me my nickname within twenty minutes of meeting. Once I realized he wasn't being mean, I slowly began to warm up to him the same way I'd begun to warm up to Martha. They were the two people I probably talked to the most, and even then, it wasn't a whole lot of talking.

"Nope, don't worry, I just use it on people I don't like," Kyle responded now as I loaded up a tray with the drinks. I grabbed the newly constructed sandwich with my other hand and slowly made my way towards the door.

"You got all that?" Kyle asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I think so," I said with a hopeful smile, pushing the door open with my back and heading back the way I had come earlier. I didn't want to waste any more time going back and forth to make multiple trips, so I figured I'd better try bringing it all out. Couldn't have the customers complaining to Tom and Martha. Although, I expected I'd already earned a few complaints at this point.

I headed for the mustached man's table to drop off the sandwich first. That way, I'd free up both hands to pass out all the drinks to the table in the corner. I wasn't looking to drop anything by any means.

"Finally," the man huffed when I set the plate in front of him.

"Anything else?" I asked, trying to ignore his comment.

"Just the refill on my water, please," his wife reminded me. She at least had the decency to look at me with a kind smile.

"Right! Of course. I'll be right back."

I turned and let out a puff of air, but barely had time to take in another breath. I had the other customer from before shout at me for extra napkins again and I quickly hurried off to take care of it. But only after I'd hastily delivered the drinks in my hand to the boys at the corner table without making eye contact with any of them.

I fumbled my way through the rest of the evening without ever feeling calmer or relaxed about my situation. I think I was actually perpetually shaking the entire night. There was just so much to be done. I never made any drastic mistakes—like setting the building on fire, for example—but I just felt like I things weren't going as smoothly as they would if Rachel had been working instead. Most customers were nice, but like I said, a lot of them like to chat and I'm not usually one for doing that, so I'd leave the table in a hurry, using how busy we were as an excuse. The good thing that the excuse was true. We were busy and I did have to hurry. The use of this excuse happened quite a bit, actually, because most people noticed the second I opened my mouth that I wasn't from England. And they wanted to know why. You know, what had brought me here and all that. Understandably, I suppose. But I didn't want to go into it. Couldn't, really.

Anyway, besides hurriedly leaving the tables of the curious customers, I messed up a few other things as well. For instance, I completely forgot to bring extra tomatoes for one man's sandwich and a few times I placed the wrong meal in front of a person. But at least I always got the tables correct. I just mixed up the people at the tables.

The night was full of little errors like that and while I wasn't exactly pleased with how it had gone, it hadn't been a total horror show either and I couldn't help but be thankful.

But apparently, I gave thanks too soon.

By twelve fifteen in the morning, fifteen minutes before closing time, there were only seven customers total in the place, including the group of five guys at my corner table, who were all now even drunker and rowdier than they had been when I took over Rachel's spot at ten

The redhead boy I had bumped into earlier was still here, too, with someone that was obviously his twin. They were totally identical. I wasn't even sure if I could tell which one was the one I had spoken to earlier. They were wearing different clothes, but I certainly hadn't been paying attention to what the boy had been wearing when we'd bumped into each other.

"So, you survived," Kyle said from behind me as he dried off one of the last remaining bowls left in the drying rack beside the sink and then waved his wand to send it back into the correct cupboard. The kitchen always closed and stopped serving food at midnight and we took the last half hour to clean up. Then, at twelve-thirty, we'd finish cleaning up the dining area, then shut off the lights and go home. But for me, Tom, and Martha, home was only up a few flights of stairs to the very top floor of the pub in an extremely homey flat. The two floors below that were for guests. And the bottom floor was the pub.

"I survived," I sighed, leaning against the doorframe and closing my eyes for a second as I brushed some stray wisps of light brown hair out of my face. My ponytail had started falling out hours ago and I hadn't even gotten the chance to fix it. I had food stains on my apron, I was incredibly sweaty, and my feet hurt. But the night wasn't over yet.

I opened my eyes and surveyed the room. My eyes fell on the rowdy boys as they all let out loud laughs at once. The sound pierced right through my already aching head and I closed my eyes again. "I'm sadly not finished for the night, though," I told Kyle.

"Fifteen minutes more and they'll be gone," Kyle said, joining me at the door and looking around the room as well. Together, we watched Tom at the bar, wiping down glasses and talking to the redheaded twins. As I watched, one of them looked up at me and gave a half smile. I looked away in haste and stared down at my worn sneakers instead.

"One of the Weasley boys just asked Tom about you," Kyle said, his smirk evident in his tone.

"How can you tell?" I asked, looking up at him.

"He looked over at you and when you looked away, he said something to Tom, glancing over here as he did, then Tom looked over and answered him."

"They could be talking about you," I said. "Maybe that guy wants meet the person who cooked his meal."

"Martha cooked his food," Kyle responded. "Besides, we've all met him already. Except you."

"I have met him," I answered. "He stepped on my foot."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "And I bet you didn't say a word to him, not even something along the lines of 'ouch, my foot!'"

I blushed and looked away. "Shut up, Kyle."

"Come on, Mouse, you've been here a month. It couldn't hurt to make some friends. In fact, it's worrisome the way you live your life. You're turning twenty-one next month. All you do is work and go home. And home happens to be up the stairs! You don't even leave the building."

"You're my friend," I said.

Kyle sighed heavily. "I'm twelve years older than you."

"So?"

"I'm married and have my own family."

"So?" I pressed. "That means we can't be friends?"

"I think you should make friends your own age. Whenever some of the girls here get together and go out, you make up an excuse and stay in."

"I don't like talking about myself," I said. "You've been the only one who hasn't pressed the subject."

"How do you know anyone else won't either?"

"I can't possibly get that lucky more than once. Plus if I refuse to talk about myself to every single person who asks, I look…."

"Crazy?" Kyle supplied.

I shrugged.

"Are you crazy?"

"No!" I exclaimed defensively.

"I was just asking," Kyle said, holding up his hands in surrender. He glanced over my shoulder at the group of guys in the corner booth. "Better go check on them. The sooner they pay their bill, the sooner they'll leave."

I sighed as I turned back towards the table. "They've been calling me States all night." When Kyle looked at me in confusion, I raised an eyebrow. "As in the United States. Where I'm from."

"Ah, see, I always seem to forget you're not one of us," Kyle said.

"Because I blend right in?" I asked with a sarcastic roll of my eyes.

"Nah, because you've got me trained to not even think about your backstory. As far as I'm concerned you just materialized out of thin air, or dropped from the sky." When I let out a tired sigh, he smiled. "Go ahead, get on over there," he said, giving me a gentle nudge. He leaned forward to whisper in my ear. "But for the record, States is a horrible nickname. Mouse is much more fitting."

"In your mind," I scoffed. Kyle laughed and retreated back to the kitchen as I made my way over to the corner table. "Need anything else?" I asked, nervously pushing a tendril of loose hair behind my ear.

"What about you?" one of the boys asked, his eyes wandering over me, slowly, from head to toe. "Can I get you? I have always had a thing for blue-eyed girls."

"You have a thing for Americans, too?" one of his friends asked with a laugh.

"Not sure, but I can find out," the first guy said.

I felt myself flush as I looked anywhere but at their faces. This was humiliating. "Do you need anything else?" I asked again.

"Another round of firewhiskey," the guy who had first spoken to me said.

Seriously? I thought to myself. I just wanted them to leave at this point.

"Um, we are closing in ten minutes, just so you're aware," I said.

"You asked us if we needed anything else, didn't you sweetheart?" one of them asked. "And since Marcus can't have you, we'll have to just take another round of drinks."

"Unless you've changed your mind," the guy who was apparently named Marcus said, wiggling his eyebrows at me.

I fought the urge to gag. "Your drinks will be right out," I said almost robotically as I turned and walked away towards the bar.

"Aw, you're no fun!" Marcus yelled out.

"Yeah, American girls are boring," one of his friends commented.

I inhaled deeply through my nose and ignored the comments as I headed for the bar, where those two redheaded twins still sat. I could tell they were watching me, no matter how much I wish I hadn't noticed. The last thing I wanted was to have people witness me being made a fool of.

"They all want firewhiskey," I told Tom once I got to the bar.

"We're closing in ten," he said with a frown.

"I told them that. They don't care," I answered.

Tom sighed and set down the glass he was drying before busying himself getting the drinks.

"They're jerks," the twin sitting closest to me suddenly said, taking a sip from his own firewhiskey as he looked over the top of it at me. "They were in my and George's year at school. Slytherins." He looked over at the table again. "Honestly, Marcus Flint is the biggest caveman. And his friends aren't much better. Montague, Warrington….they're awful. A whole bunch of ugly baboons." He turned back to me. "Keep doing what you're doing. Ignore them. The best you can anyway since you do unfortunately have to serve them drinks."

I gave him another quick, polite smile before turning back to the bar, staring at all the different types of alcohol lining the back wall. I drummed my fingers on the table impatiently.

"I'm Fred," the twin who'd been speaking piped up again after a second. "Fred Weasley." I looked back over to see he was extending a hand for me to shake. "I believe we had the pleasure of running into each other earlier. Quite literally, actually." He smiled.

I hesitated as I looked down at his outstretched hand.

"It's customary to shake it," he said. "It's a form of greeting. Do you not have handshakes in America?"

"You're making fun of me," I said, narrowing my eyes.

"Not this time," Fred said with a smile.

"Excuse me?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. What did he mean, not this time?

"You see, joking around is kind of what we do," Fred's twin said suddenly. "We own the joke shop down at the end of the alley. You've probably been in it by now. Or at least seen it. You can't miss it, really."

I shook my head. "Never been," I shrugged. "Or seen it." Truthfully, I wasn't out in Diagon Alley all that much. Hardly ever, actually. I'd probably been once or twice in the month I'd been staying with Tom and Martha. And I had never been down at the end furthest from the pub. Never needed anything from the shops down there considering I usually only went out on errands for Tom and Martha or when I went to pick up some basic necessities for myself with my earnings from work.

The twins' mouths fell open simultaneously. "Never been?" Fred asked. "Never even seen it?"

"Ever?" his twin continued.

"Are you ill?" they asked together.

I shook my head.

"Then you're crazy," Fred said.

"No," I insisted, shifting my weight between my feet. I wished Tom would hurry with those drinks.

It was quiet for another few seconds. "I'm George, by the way," the second twin said. "And you don't seem to be a woman of many words."

I shook my head in response-for the second time in the span of a minute, too-and didn't look at him.

"She's said a total of thirteen words to us, George," Fred hissed to his brother. "Thirteen. And she doesn't know what a handshake is. Either we're losing our charm or she doesn't talk much."

I ignored them. Quite frankly, they made me uncomfortable. They were friendly enough, but somewhat bothersome at the same time. They weren't as horrible as the group of guys I was currently waiting on. But they seemed quite, well, pushy. And clearly they thought pretty highly of themselves and their joke shop if they thought I was nuts for not going in. Honestly, how great could a joke shop even be? It couldn't be all that wonderful. I just had no idea what to make of them. I did get the sense that they were going to tease me way more than I would have liked about my quiet nature. But hopefully, I wouldn't have to talk to them again after tonight.

Finally, Tom returned with the drinks on a tray and I used my wand to levitate it, moving it carefully as I walked back towards the corner table. I saw one of the boys—Marcus—glance at me as I approached before returning to muttering something to his friend across the table from him.

As I passed the left side of the table, trying to reach the middle in order to put the drinks down, I felt my foot connect with something else. I wobbled and then felt myself catapult forward. I gasped and squeezed my eyes shut as my stomach clenched and my heart stopped. It was too late to steady myself. I had already lost my balance. I was definitely going to hit the ground and it wasn't going to be pretty. My wand lowered as I fell and put my hands out to catch myself. My concentration had already broken as well, which meant that the tray of drinks were going to fall with me.

The crash was louder than I anticipated and I winced as my left elbow and both knees crashed into the ground. The drinks smashed everywhere and flooded the grey stone floor. And everyone in the room had gone totally silent.

When I opened my eyes, the situation was as bad as I had feared. My face was red as a beet and so hot, I could probably fry an egg on it. Plus, everyone was staring at me, which made it worse. The group of boys suddenly began to laugh, hiding their faces in their arms or behind the nearly empty bottles and glasses of their last round of drinks.

"Now that's one way to liven things up!" one of them hooted.

I could have died on the spot. Honestly.

"Oi!"

I winced, sure it was Tom coming to yell at me for making such a mess, but it wasn't. I looked up to see the twins standing above me. Fred was glaring at the group of boys in the booth while George knelt down and starting to collect up some of the larger shards of glass from the drinks. I grabbed the tray I had been carrying them on and set it between us as I hurriedly began to help without making eye contact with anyone. Above me, I heard Fred start talking again.

"I saw what you did," he said. "You tripped her. On purpose. And I don't know what any of you think you're playing at. It wasn't funny. You could have seriously hurt someone who's just trying to do her job, which unfortunately happens to be catering to you prats."

"She's not even very good," one of the boys muttered. "We've been waiting forever for drinks. All night. And she's boring. The other waitresses at least talk to us."

I swallowed as I continued to pick up glass from the floor. I was getting soaked from the giant puddle of liquid surrounding me and I also noticed that George was kneeling in it too. It was impossible to not kneel in it, really. It was a big puddle.

"Did you see how busy it was in here all night?" Fred asked. "Besides, she's clearly new at this! It'd do you better to get some respect and patience instead of getting drunk."

"That's rich coming from you," the boy named Marcus said, getting up from his seat and glaring at Fred, who raised his eyebrows and crossed his own arms. I'd paused in what I was doing and looked up at the two of them. I wondered what Marcus had meant by that. Fred hadn't seemed drunk tonight. Although, that was certainly no reflection on how he behaved otherwise. I had only met the guy tonight. I knew nothing about him.

George bristled at Marcus' words and stood up, mirroring Fred's stance, crossing his arms and glaring at the boys as well.

"Keep your mouth shut, Flint," George snapped.

"All I'm saying is that your brother here isn't the one who should be giving out lectures on respect, patience and sobriety. If he had any of those things, his girlfriend wouldn't have left him."

Fred immediately lunged for Marcus and I gasped and flinched, scuttling backwards on my knees to get out of the way. Luckily, George grabbed Fred's arms and yanked him back.

"That's enough!"

I turned to see Tom standing behind us, a deep frown on his face as he looked over the scene.

"These two are threatening us, sir," one of the dark haired boys said, pointing a finger at the twins.

Fred snorted. "Hardly." He pulled himself out of George's grip and turned to Tom, jerking his head towards the boy who was sitting across from Marcus. "This one tripped your waitress. On purpose."

"Did no such thing, sir," the dark haired boy said, shaking his head vigorously at Tom.

"You did," George said. "We both saw you. And you've been bothering her all night."

"She could've just tripped over her own feet, you know," the boy said with a roll of his eyes. "Wouldn't surprise me."

"Alright, alright," Tom said, his frown getting deeper. He looked the group of boys up and down. "If you're finished, why don't you wrap it up?"

"We're not finished, we never got the next round of drinks we asked for!" one of the other boys exclaimed. He pointed a finger at me, still on the floor. "She spilled them everywhere! We should get a free round for the inconvenience!"

"I can give you a free round of something, alright," Fred said, glaring at them.

"Weasley, that's enough." Tom snapped, turning his glare towards Fred. He looked back towards the boys. "Actually it's closing time now. You can come back for your drinks another time. So, if you'd please, as I've said, start packing up and get on home."

"But—"

"Out!" Tom insisted. "Now. Before I get Magical Law Enforcement involved."

There was a silence before the group of boys finally started piling out of the booth, albeit with a lot of grumbling, and heading towards the door. Marcus was the last one to leave. He grabbed a half filled drink from the table and looked down at me. "Thanks for nothing," he said. And then he tossed the contents of the bottle in my face. I winced and spluttered as I squeezed my eyes shut. The drink was cold against my skin and burned my eyes. Some had even gotten in my mouth and from the taste of it, I knew it was firewhiskey.

"Oi!" Both twins lunged for Marcus this time, but Tom grabbed them and tugged them back.

"Contain yourselves, boys!" he shouted.

"Did you see what he did?" Fred yelled back.

"I saw," Tom growled. "But fighting is not allowed in this pub! You know that." He turned towards Marcus. "I also don't allow the blatant disrespect of anyone in this building, staff or not. If you're that unsatisfied with your service, you take it up with me or Martha. Using words. Now get out."

Marcus rolled his eyes, but turned for the door. He let it slam on his way out, leaving a silent pub in his wake.

Tom released Fred and George before looking down and taking in the sight of me. My clothes, face and hair were splashed with alcohol, my hair was falling out of my ponytail even more than before, and I was sure I looked shell-shocked and embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Tom's expression softened as he sighed. "I know. But it wasn't your fault. Just…get this all cleaned up, please." He paused. "Are you alright?"

I nodded. "Fine. I'll get this cleaned right away."

Tom gave me a tiny smile and a nod. "Thank you. I've cleaned up the bar and Kyle's closed up the kitchen, so once this is cleaned and the boys here have gone, you can lock up the front door and turn in for the night, yeah?"

I nodded and let out a sigh as he walked away. At least I wasn't in trouble.

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Fred. When I nodded, he smiled and held out his hand. "I'm offering it to you to help you up this time," he clarified. "In case you—"

"I get it." I said with a tiny smile. I glanced down at his hand before taking it and allowing him to help me to my feet. I tried to slip my hand from his grasp once I was up, but he only held on tighter as he smiled wider at me. "Will you tell us your name now?" he asked, his eyes meeting mine. "You know ours."

I cleared my throat and lowered my gaze from his eyes to our hands. "Sophie," I answered. "It's Sophie."

"Pleasure to meet you," Fred said, gently shaking my hand before finally dropping it.

He and George fell quiet as they scrutinized me and I felt myself looking at the ground awkwardly, unsure of what to do with myself. I glanced up at Fred again, still wondering about what Marcus had said. The things he'd implied made me even more uneasy of Fred, but the Fred that was standing in front of me didn't quite match up to the version Marcus had talked about. I told myself not to pry, though. I knew more than anyone how annoying it was to have strangers pry into your life. Besides, it wasn't as if anything that had happened to Fred in the past mattered to me. It only mattered now and it only mattered how he was treating me-which so far and for the most part, had been with kindness. He'd just stood up to me to a bunch of rude and vulgar customers when he could have-and maybe should have-stayed out of it. As guarded as I was around people, I had to admit, it meant a lot.

"You're shy," Fred finally commented, smiling at me again.

I still didn't answer. I didn't know what to say to that. Never had. I didn't need or particularly want people pointing that out. I just wanted to do my job, save up some money and get my bearings. For starters. And after that, I'd have to start figuring out the rest of my life. Nothing major at all. That was another reason why it didn't make a difference whether or not I knew what Marcus Flint had just been talking about. I wasn't staying here long. I didn't need to know everyone's life story.

The twins continued to stare at me, raising their eyebrows before looking at each other. "Definitely shy," Fred said.

"Look, I really should be getting back to work," I said. "I have to clean this up and then—"

"Allow me," Fred said, waving his wand to clear the spilled drinks from the floor as well as, I figured, any leftover shards of glass. Meanwhile, George knelt down to pick up the tray that still sat on the ground before handing it to me.

"Thank you," I said, taking it. I cleared my throat again and looked at them. "And thank you for sticking up for me to those guys. You didn't have to do that."

"Don't mention it," George said kindly as Fred nodded beside him.

"Like I said, they're jerks," Fred said. "And there's no excuse for treating another human being like the way they treated you."

I didn't say anything. Instead, I tilted my head towards the front door. "Okay, well, I have to lock up, so..."

"I'd offer to make sure you got home safe, but Tom tells us you live here with him and Martha," Fred said.

I blinked up at him. So Kyle had been right—they had been asking Tom about me. Figures. Everyone wanted to know all about the new girl. And I just wanted them to mind their own business, to be frank. The less anyone knew about me the better.

"When did you talk to Tom about me?" I asked, deciding to play dumb.

"Not too long ago. We just wanted to know who the new girl was."

I cleared my throat and looked away. "And what'd he tell you?"

"Just that he and Martha had taken you in about a month ago—which was surprising."

"Why?" I asked curiously.

"It's just that we'd never seen you before and usually George and I notice pretty girls right away, no matter how much they try to hide."

"Well, to be fair," George muttered, "we've been pretty preoccupied the past few weeks."

Fred hesitated and grew solemn for a moment, his expression darkening just slightly. "Good point."

I blushed a deep red and looked away at the use of the word pretty. If Fred was going to flirt with me, too, maybe he wasn't all that different from the boys who'd just left. Granted, Fred wasn't creepy or vulgar, but I still didn't want the attention regardless

"Anyway," Fred went on, a grin returning to his face, "Tom said that in exchange, you're working here. Didn't give any more details, but we'd love to hear them sometime. Maybe next Friday?"

I shook my head. "I'm working."

"When you get off," Fred persisted.

"I work until closing. My shift ends at twelve thirty in the morning."

"We don't mind," Fred went on. "We can wait. We're here now at that time, aren't we?"

I set my jaw and shook my head. Merlin, he was persistent. "I have to lock up, so…." I walked to the front door and opened it, giving them a blatantly obvious cue to leave.

The twins looked at each other before Fred let out a low whistle. "Fine," he said, holding up his hands. "We know a rejection when we see one. Come on, George."

And with that, they started walking towards the side door, bypassing me completely and leaving me standing there in confusion.

"Thanks for holding the door for us," Fred said over his shoulder, "but we're going this way. We live about our shop, you see."

I flushed red as I shut the front door and locked it before turning to watch the twins leave through the side exit. Fred turned and stuck his head back in, a smile on his face.

"It was nice to meet you, Sophie. I'm sure I'll see you around. We're practically neighbors after all."

And with that, he shut the door to the pub with a click.