What am I even doing? I need to get out of here. Run. Escape. Leave.

Stay. George has the diary. Stay at least long enough to get that back.

I don't have to let him push me around. Hex him and steal it back.

I'll never make friends doing things like that.

Essentially, those were the arguments going back and forth in my mind as we made our way up the front walkway to the door of the Weasley's house. Despite my preoccupation, I couldn't help but look up at it in wonder. I wasn't sure what I had expected, but it hadn't been this. A tall, crooked, rickety house that looked like it was being supported by magic. It was unique, that was for sure. I liked it.

Fred and George pushed open the front door without knocking and called out for their mother. She replied from somewhere further in the house and the twins led the way in that direction while I looked all around me, remaining silent and observing everything. From the homemade blankets on the couches, the fire in the fireplace, and the odd clock with nine hands instead of two.

We finally entered the kitchen, which was filled with the smells of delicious foods, and where a short woman, also with red hair, stood by the stove. Fred and George's mother.

"I'm so glad you two are here," she said without turning around. "You're the last to arrive and the food is almost ready. Everyone else is out back. I thought we'd eat out there today since we all fit better and the weather is nice. By the way, I-" She broke off as she turned around and saw me. She blinked in surprise.

"Mum, this is Sophie," George said, gesturing to me. "She's my girlfriend and she and Fred hate each other's guts."

Mrs. Weasley's eyebrows immediately shot up.

"Your girlfriend?" Mrs. Weasley asked. "Interesting. Should I owl Katie and mention this bit of news to her?"

"If you must," George shrugged. "But she knows all about my desire for an open relationship," he added, somehow managing to keep his voice earnest.

"Like hell," Mrs. Weasley said, glaring at George with her hands on her hips.

Fred laughed and playfully punched his brother's shoulder as I blushed and vigorously shook my head.

"No, I'm just-I'm-not his girlfriend," I said. "At all."

"Ouch," George commented vaguely, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course you're not George's girlfriend," Mrs. Weasley said, still shooting George a look. "I know why he said it, of course. So I wouldn't assume you were Fred's girlfriend instead."

"I'm not," I said quickly. "I'm not his girlfriend either. We just met."

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips and nodded her head, her eyes narrowed as she continued to study Fred and George. "But I still expect the hating Fred bit isn't true either?"

"No, that is true," George said, maintaining a straight face. "They just met, but they hate each other's guts. I invited Sophie along for my own enjoyment at their discomfort."

I kept quiet as Mrs. Weasley swatted him.

"Sophie's a silent hermit," Fred explained, walking over to the counter and hoisting himself onto it. He summoned himself a drink and tapped the bottle with his wand to uncap it. Mrs. Weasley eyed him wearily and he rolled his eyess as he took a sip. "I'll be fine, Mum. My prison warden slash therapist will be keeping a close eye on me." He gestured to George. "In fact, that's why Sophie's here. George hoped that she and I would talk about our feelings." He smiled sarcastically as he took another sip of his drink.

I fought the urge to run right back out the door just then. But the urge to make sure Mrs. Weasley didn't think I was insane was greater.

"I work at the Leaky Cauldron," I informed her. "That's where I met the twins. They, um...invited me today. They said it would be okay..."

Mrs. Weasley continued to look between the twins for a moment. She and George shared a knowing look while Fred glared at them. And then Mrs. Weasley turned to me with a smile. Although, her face and eyes looked almost as exhausted as the twins' did. Maybe even a bit more. I reminded myself that this woman had lost a son. Of course she'd look worn out.

"Molly Weasley," she said brightly, leaning in and actually hugging me. I instantly stiffened and flinched, the swift motion startling me. She noticed and backed away. "I'm sorry," she said. "I've always been the type to give people hugs, even friends of my children that I've just met." She gestured to me as she laughed and shrugged. "I forget that sometimes people don't expect it or even want one."

"It's okay," I said hastily, giving her a fleeting smile as I awkwardly tugged my sleeves down over my hands. "It's nice to meet you. You have a lovely home."

"Well it does suit us just fine," Mrs. Weasley said with a grin. "It's home. It's been ours since Arthur and I got married. Nearly thirty years ago now."

I smiled and nodded as I looked at the twins, unsure of what to do next.

"Well," Mrs. Weasley continued, turning to the twins, "as I've said, everyone else is out back. Why don't you head on out? Food's almost done." She headed back for the stove and snagged Fred's drink from his hand as she went. "And I'll take that."

"Mum!" Fred protested, but Mrs. Weasley just shrugged and shooed him off the counter. Fred hopped off of his perch and headed for the back door, clearly in a sulky mood.

"Come on," George said, gesturing for me to follow. "Don't mind him," he added as we left through the back door and headed across the yard, which was huge. It seemed to go on forever, with no other houses in sight to even determine any boundaries.

I kept my mouth shut, determined to not say a word to let on that I knew about Percy.

"I know I said this earlier, but I just wanted to be clear," George went on, "I am hoping someone new will be good for him. Someone new to talk to who isn't a family member or close friend. He seems to be quite sick of us 'breathing down his neck'." He shrugged. "But I'm not using you. As far as I've heard, you seem like you could use someone to talk to as well. I thought that I could help you and help my brother in the process. Maybe you can each provide some sort of perspective for each other."

"You have no reason to want to help me," I said. "So why would you if it wasn't solely to help Fred?"

"I'm not an asshole," George said defensively.

I shrugged. "I barely know you, so how am I to know what drives you to make decisions? Just don't know anything about me."

"No, I don't know much, you're right. But I do know you appeared out of nowhere and Tom and Martha took you in. And according to Rachel, you don't talk much or open up to anyone. You seem lonely, but afraid to make friends. You're closed off, defensive..." He shrugged. "I've been watching my brother behave in ways that are quite similar over the past year. I can recognize the signs of something being wrong by now. And I thought that since you two already seemed to be somewhat hitting it off, then why not help things along?"

I frowned. I was beginning to wonder if the twins were just like everyone else. Prying into my life and trying to figure me out. And even worse, they were trying to fix me.

"I don't need fixing, you know," I said. "I'm not broken."

"Didn't say you were," George said.

"Didn't you, though? You said you could recognize the signs of when something is wrong."

"Doesn't mean you're broken. Just means that I think you've been through something. Something that you don't want to talk about or process in a healthy way. Again, I would know. I've been watching Fred do the same thing and I've been seeing the effects of it." He sighed. "I'm sorry if I insulted you in some way, but I just-I want to help my brother. I'm desperate."

"Maybe he's not broken either," I said. "Maybe that's the problem. Maybe you're all acting like he is, when he's not."

George sighed. "No, I think he is. Or he was. Now he's some kind of half-fixed mess." He glanced at me. "Have you ever broken something made of glass and tried to put it together without magic?"

I hesitated, thinking of an instance back in Salem. It was probably about four years ago. Images flashed through my head. Me cleaning the kitchen of my latest foster home, accidentally knocking over a pitcher of lemonade. The glass shattering. It was everywhere. There was shouting. Name calling. Tears stinging my eyes. Blood on my hand as I hurriedly picked up the glass. Having to glue the pitcher back together without magic.

"Yes," I finally said, my voice quiet as I glanced over at George.

"And what does it look like?" He asked.

"Still cracked," I shrugged. "Whole but not the same..." my eyes flickered to Fred, still walking on ahead of us, before I looked back at George and then at the ground.

"Exactly," George sighed. "I can't speak for you, obviously, but as far as Fred is concerned, he may not be as broken now. He may not need fixing. But he's still not the same. He needs...some improvements. He still won't ever be the same, but he's still only haphazardly glued together. Pieces keep falling off, you know? And we all keep pasting them back on, only for them to fall off again soon after." He looked off after Fred and swallowed. "He's had a tough year. We all have."

I didn't answer for a moment. "So you're saying that you think Fred just needs stronger glue. And you think I'm the stronger glue?"

"You could be."

"Didn't you just say you sensed I had my own issues? If anything I need stronger glue myself."

At that moment, I also almost brought up the fact that he or Fred hadn't even told me what had happened to them. George wanted me to help, but as far as he was concerned, I didn't even fully know what I was helping with. In the end, though, I snapped my mouth shut. I already knew anyway, thanks to Rachel. And I didn't want to bring that to light. I didn't want to have to face it. Surely, the twins-Fred in particular-wouldn't love that bit of news. But I also realized I didn't have to tell them. I could just play stupid. I opened my mouth again to speak, but George cut me off, oblivious to the fact that I had been about to say something.

"Fred already seems to like talking to you. Twice now, I've discovered you two randomly engaged in conversation. Last night in Hogsmeade, and last week at the shop. You always act like he and I are crazy and almost as if you don't like us, but you still came out to our shop on your own. You still came here today to meet our entire family, which is sometimes overwhelming for even more outgoing people."

"You blackmailed me with that diary," I told him with a roll of my eyes. "I didn't have much of a choice."

"Ah, but you did. You could have used your wand on me. Hexed me, Stunned me, used Expelliarmus, or even Accio to summon the diary back. But you didn't." He shrugged. "You can say you want-or need-to be alone as much as you want. But no one truly wants to be alone. It's obvious you want to interact with people or else you'd try harder to shut yourself down."

"I am trying! No one will let me."

George snorted. "I see right through you, Sophie. You can keep lying to yourself if you want, and maybe I am insane, or even wrong about you and Fred being good for each other. But I at least have to try. I see two cracked, sloppily glued together people, who also happen to be stubborn and determined as hell. And I have to wonder if putting those two people together might have the stubbornness cancel out. Maybe the walls will come down for both of you. Maybe you are each other's stronger glue." He looked at me, silently begging me to understand. "I'd do anything to help him," he said, "even if my ideas at this point are a little bit of a stretch. And if he ends up helping you in the process, well it's a win-win, isn't it?"

"I guess," I shrugged. "But maybe going forward, you shouldn't make it so obvious that you're trying to help him. I don't think he likes it very much and don't you think it'll make him more likely to, I don't know, buck the system?"

George was quiet as he stared at me in slight surprise. "Maybe you're right," he said. "Fred's always been very stubborn like that. So have I for that matter, so I'm not one to talk."

I nodded, but didn't say anything else.

"So, it's settled," George said decidedly. "No mentioning to Fred that we're helping him."

"No, of course not," I said, looking at him in slight amusement. I decided not to mention the fact that George had used the word we're, and I was under the impression that I hadn't agreed to anything as far as helping Fred was concerned. I was also half wondering if this could backfire. Putting two people together who clearly had some issues could just as easily cause more trouble than good. It would be like two similar magnets. They always repelled each other, pushing each other away with an unseen force.

Who was to say I was as good for Fred as George thought? My knowledge of what they had gone through and how Fred had reacted was only surface level. Plus I had my own problems. What if one of us exploded and took the other down with us in the process?

"Great," George said now, his voice cheerful. It snapped me out of my thoughts and I actually jumped a bit. "It was a pleasure doing business with you, Sophie." He smiled and nudged me in the side as I winced slightly.

We had come to a stop as we reached a group of people gathered in the yard, close to a line of trees. The majority of them were redheads, but I noticed a blonde woman holding a baby, a girl with bushy brown hair, and none other than Harry Potter, his jet black hair sticking up haphazardly. One of the taller redheads, who had long hair, an earring, and a few long, thin scars across his face, was arranging a few tables together, while a man that looked as if he were Mrs. Weasley's husband arranged chairs around the tables. Fred had yet another redheaded boy-the one I'd seen with them at The Three Broomsticks-in a headlock, while the girl Rachel had told me was named Ginny stood watching them and laughing.

I stood there surveying the scene with wide eyes, and then, to my horror, George left my side and went to join his twin, patting the brother in the headlock on the shoulder as Fred released him. And now I was standing there alone on the sidelines, unsure of what to do next. Before I could talk myself into leaving (it would not have been a difficult task, believe me), the girl with bushy brown hair met my eyes and half smiled. I simply blinked back at her, but luckily it didn't seem to scare her off. In fact, she headed towards me.

"Hi, I'm Hermione Granger," she said, holding out her hand. I stared down at it for a moment before reaching out and taking it.

"Sophie," I said. "Sophie McConnell."

"Nice to meet you," Hermione said. "You're friends with the twins?"

"I suppose I am," I shrugged.

"How did that happen?" she asked curiously. "I mean, you didn't go to school with us. Then again, the twins have always been naturals at making friends."

"I'm not even sure, to be honest," I answered. "It kind of just...happened." I looked over at Hermione to see her staring at me in thought. Sighing, I went on. "I work at the Leaky Cauldron. I met the twins there. And then I wandered into their joke shop last week, so I ran into them again. And as for me coming here today, I'm not sure I had a choice. My coworker kind of set me up, and besides that, George wouldn't take no for an answer."

Hermione was quiet and I began to shift from one foot to the other as I looked out at everyone. I could tell she was expecting me to elaborate, but in true fashion, I didn't. I'd already rambled enough.

"Fred and George never really had much tact," Hermione finally said.

"What?" I asked, looking at her quizzically.

"Neither does Ron, really," Hermione went on with a shrug. "If it weren't for Ginny, I'd say it was a trait that was used up on all the older siblings." She shrugged before looking at me. "They really should have introduced you to everyone instead of leaving you here. Their mother would kill them if she knew." She smiled and tilted her head towards the others. "Come on. It looks like I'll have to handle it. As usual."

She began to walk off and I had no choice but to follow her as she led me towards the blonde woman holding the baby, the redhead with an earring, and the man I'd assumed was Mr. Weasley. They were all standing in a group down near the head of the tables they'd just finished setting up, lost in conversation, but it seemed to stop as Hermione and I drew nearer.

"This is Sophie," Hermione stated. "She's Fred and George's friend."

"Arthur Weasley," the older man said with a jovial smile, reaching out a hand. I shook it and he continued to beam at me. "This is my son, Bill, his wife, Fleur and their daughter, Victoire." He gestured to the people standing beside him before reaching out and gently tickling the baby's arm with a finger.

"Nice to meet you," I said, shaking Bill and Fleur's hands as they offered them to me. I smiled at little Victiore. "She's beautiful."

"Takes after her Mum," Bill said, looking at Fleur with a loving grin as he put an arm around her shoulders.

"How old is she?" I asked, as Victoire peered at me wearily. She was so small. She looked almost as if she was a newborn.

"She's two weeks," Fleur answered, confirming my guess. She spoke with a French accent, which surprised me. So far, I was the only person I knew of that wasn't from around here. I wondered for a moment how she had ended up in England, but then reminded myself that her story was most likely a lot more normal than mine.

"She was born on the one year anniversary of the battle of Hogwarts," Bill explained. "The second of May. That's how we chose her name. It means victory in French."

I nodded. "That's clever. And certainly unique. My name's fairly common and according to what my mother told me when I was little, she simply just thought it was beautiful."

"Nothing wrong with that," Bill shrugged.

"Sophie eez also a French name," Fleur pointed out. "Meaning wisdom."

"I didn't know that," I said with a smile.

"Fleur only knows what the meaning is because of all the research we did on names while she was pregnant," Bill pointed out. "We knew we wanted a French name, so we paid special attention to those. It wasn't until the day the baby was born that we finally decided on Victoire. She was born two days late, so it kind of just worked out well."

"Makes sense," I said, nodding.

"So how do you know Fred and George?" Bill asked curiously. "They've never mentioned you."

"We kind of just met," I said.

"Really," Bill said in interest. "And they've already brought you over to the Burrow. They must really like you."

I shrugged. Not sure that's quite the reason, I thought. George just wanted to use me to help his brother. Nothing new. It was the same kind of thing I'd dealt with back at school. The only difference was that I liked the twins. And the other Weasleys so far, too. If George could see through me, I could see through him. And Fred, too. They were so much more than they let on. Despite my defenses, and despite how the twins behaved-careless, brash, speaking without thinking-I knew that they cared about people and that they weren't mean. I hadn't forgotten that they'd also jumped to my defense the night Marcus Flint and his friends had tripped me.

"Do you visit the joke shop regularly?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"I visited once," I replied. "Apparently, they're the ones visiting my job regularly. I work at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Ah," Mr. Weasley said. "Yes, we've all visited the Cauldron pretty frequently. It's a popular place. We even stayed there for a night or two years ago...back in Ron's third year. Tom and Martha are great. Wonderful people. Tell me, do you like working there?"

I nodded and shrugged one shoulder. "It's not bad. It earns me money. But you're right. Tom and Martha are great."

"Really wonderful people, like I said," Mr. Weasley answered, nodding his head.

I smiled and chewed my lip, unsure of what else to say. Instead, the five of us stood there in awkward silence for a few seconds.

"Sophie doesn't say much," a sudden voice bluntly announced from behind us. It was Fred. He had somehow gotten his hands on another drink and he grinned as he slung an arm around my shoulder, any trace of his earlier mood gone. "She doesn't like people, actually."

"Fred," I sighed, rolling my eyes and shooting him a look.

"You're doing fine," he murmured in my ear, patting my shoulder. "Holding your own and everything. Such a big girl." He chuckled and turned back to the others. "George and I thought we'd help Sophie get out of her shell and make some new friends. She's still quite new here and doesn't really know anybody yet."

"What brings you to England anyway?" Mr. Weasley asked curiously.

I froze as my breath hitched. The dreaded question. I knew it would come up sooner or later. Fred felt me stiffen and looked at me quizzically. I ignored him as my face heated up, choosing instead to keep looking at his father.

"Just...wanted a new start," I said. "I didn't feel as if home was home anymore." I shrugged and hoped that answer was enough.

"Where is home?" Bill asked. "Your old home, I mean."

I hesitated. "Salem," I replied. "Salem, Massachusetts."

"Ooh, such an interesting town," Hermione chimed in, almost eagerly. "I've always wanted to pay a visit. There's so much history there." She hesitated. "Unpleasant and terrible history, of course, but history none the less. We had our own witch hunts here in England and I've always wanted to get a closer look at the American ones to see how they compare and-"

Fred interrupted her by closing his eyes, tipping his head back and making a snoring sound as Hermione glared at him furiously.

I, however, glanced awkwardly between Fred and Hermione. "Salem is-um-a very popular place. For other witches and wizards from all over the world who are interested in the history, but also for non-magical people-we call them No-Maj in America."

"I like the term Muggle better," Fred interrupted, taking a sip of his drink as I glanced at him and faltered to a stop.

"Let Sophie speak, why don't you?" Fleur asked with a sigh of annoyance. "It's no wonder she's so quiet if you're always interrupting her."

"Oh-it's okay, it doesn't matter much anyway," I said hurriedly.

"It does matter," Fleur insisted. She tilted her head towards me. "Continue."

"I-um-" I glanced at Fred, who shrugged. I turned back to the others and cleared my throat. "No-Maj's-Muggles-like to go to Salem because it's kind of become a famous Halloween tourist destination."

"Why, so they can continue to poke fun at people who do have magic?" Fred asked.

"No," I said seriously. "They don't know we exist, of course. But most of them are respectful. It's just-it has become a bit touristy. Almost like a big party every October. Some locals don't like the Halloween crowds, but I, as a kid at least, thought it looked fun." I shrugged. "It seemed to lose some of the appeal as I got older, but I-I was going through a lot. I wasn't able to get out much, so..." I trailed off and shrugged as things fell silent again.

"So why here?" Mr. Weasley asked. "What drew you to England?"

I bit my lip. "It was far away," I shrugged. "And I've always wanted to visit anyway." I refrained from saying that my mother's ancesters had come from here. The less I said about myself, the better, I thought.

Before Mr. Weasley could answer, we were interrupted by someone clearing their throat in annoyance. I turned to see Ginny standing there, her hands on her hips as she stared at Fred. Ron and Harry stood slightly behind her, sharing a look of amusement.

"When were you planning on introducing me to your friend?" Ginny demanded.

"Never," Fred responded flatly, taking a sip of his drink.

"Ha, ha," Ginny said sarcastically.

"He's not lying," George said, joining the group as well. "If it were up to him, he'd never bring Sophie over. He just hates her that much."

"Sure seems like it," Ginny answered, gesturing to Fred's arm around my shoulders.

Fred cleared his throat and removed his arm. "Ginny, this is Sophie. Sophie, this is my little sister, Ginny." He shot Ginny a look. "Happy?"

She smiled and nodded before turning to me. "I've seen you before. At the Leaky Cauldron."

"You have?" I asked in surprise. I'd never noticed her. Then again, I usually tried to just mind my own business and do my job. Not a lot of time for noticing.

"A few times," Ginny shrugged. "You work there, don't you?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I do."

Ginny stared at me for a few seconds before looking at Fred. "She doesn't say much."

Fred smiled and shook his head. "Woman of few words, this one. We're working on that."

I shot him a look and he simply shrugged. Just then, Mrs. Weasley came outside, levitating dishes in front of her and announcing dinner was ready. There was a scramble for the table as everyone hurried to find a seat. I hesitated as I watched the scene in awe. There were so many people, moving so quickly and all talking at once. I inhaled deeply through my nose as I slowly sunk into a seat between Ginny and Fred.

"What?" I asked, my cheeks heating up as I saw Fred looking at me in amusement.

"Nothing," he said slowly as a corner of his mouth turned up. "You're just...interesting is all."

"You've never seen a quiet person before?"

Fred shrugged. "I've seen them. Just never really hung out with one."

I stared at him, wanting to ask him why. Why me. What was so special about me that he wanted to spend time with me? And he kept saying he was trying to help me, but then what about what we talked about back in my room when we'd said this wasn't about us helping each other? It was confusing to say the least. But I didn't know how to say all that and I didn't want to do it now when any of his family members could overhear. Especially Ginny, who seemed to be studying me intently. I pointedly ignored her, instead choosing to focus on serving myself food as bowls were passed around the table.

"Did you get to meet Harry and Ron yet, Sophie?" Mr. Weasley asked, tilting his head to the two boys sitting on his right, directly across the table from me.

"No, not yet," I answered, swirling my fork through my mashed potatoes as I looked up at them. They were both staring at me curiously.

"Ron's our youngest son," Mr. Weasley said. "He and Harry are very good friends."

"Harry's also my boyfriend," Ginny chimed in as Harry snorted into his drink.

"We're aware," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"You promised you would keep your comments to yourself," Ginny shot back, pointing her fork at him.

"Did I say anything?" Ron asked. "I didn't say a word."

"Your eye roll said enough," Ginny answered.

"You'll have to excuse the bickering," Mrs. Weasley sighed, looking at me. "It comes with the territory of most siblings, but especially when you have so many of them." She shrugged. "But it is nice that they all have each other when they need someone."

I smiled slightly, getting the impression she was thinking of the difficult year they'd just been through, but kept my mouth shut. I couldn't let on that I knew what had happened. I'd decided it was better that way.

"Do you have any siblings?" Ginny asked me.

I shook my head. "No, none."

"It's not all that," Ginny said. "There's no one to fight with that way. And I don't know about sisters, but brothers are gross and you have to be tough or else they'll try to beat you up."

"How often did we try to beat you up?" Bill laughed.

"Not often once I toughened up," Ginny pointed out. She turned to me and smiled. "They are really protective though. Almost annoyingly so. If anyone else tried to beat me up, they'd lose their minds. Every last one of them."

"Not that you'd need our help, though," Fred said. "I have to admit that you're right. You can hold your own. Your Bat Bogey Hex alone is insane."

"So are you saying you're giving us credit for being so tough?" George asked his sister. "Because I'd like to think that's what you're doing."

"I'm giving you credit for beating me up-and in your and Fred's case, pranking me to no end. Me learning to defend myself was all my own doing. In fact, I think Percy was the only one who minded his own business most of the time and came to my defense."

The table went eerily silent for a second, as if everything had stopped for a moment and there was a hitch in the flow of time before everthing came to life again. Fred flinched and looked down while Mrs. Weasley looked as if she were holding her breath. Mr. Weasley cleared his throat.

"We've got to stop doing that," Ginny muttered. "He existed. He was part of this family. I want to talk about him and I want to talk about him without the world coming unhinged whenever someone says his name." She turned to me. "I'm assuming Fred didn't tell you."

"No, I didn't," Fred said through gritted teeth, his face a scowl and that dark cloud of a mood hanging over again, even darker than before. "And you'd best keep your mouth shut, too."

"I can talk about it if I want to. You brought Sophie here."

"I didn't, George did," Fred muttered.

Ginny ignored him. "I like to talk about it and if I want to talk to Sophie, I will. You can keep quiet about it to her all you want, but since you brought her here, she might as well know."

"I didn't bring her here," Fred repeated, slowly and forcefully. "George did."

I stared down at my plate, tightly gripping my fork in my hands. Fred sure knew how to make it clear I wasn't wanted. But why the sudden shifts between being so friendly to me and then being completely and totally sullen? I knew he'd lost a brother, but...damn. I really didn't have the time for games like this. I was beginning to think I should tell George to hell with his plan, and then go back to Tom and Martha's.

"You didn't seem too upset about Sophie being here earlier when you had your arm around her," Ginny argued, leaning across me to look at Fred. I found myself holding my breath and sitting stiffly in my chair, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole.

"Will you be quiet, Ginny?" Fred snapped loudly.

"Okay, enough!" Mr. Weasley interjected sternly.

Ginny turned back to me. "Our brother Percy died last May," she stated bluntly. "In the battle of Hogwarts. He was the third oldest, he was smart, and he could be a downright pompous pain in the ass a lot of the time, but he died saving Fred's life."

"I'm finished eating," Fred announced, slamming his fork down and standing up, tossing his napkin onto his chair. "I'm going for a walk." And with that, he marched further off into the yard, eventually disappearing into the line of trees.

The table was silent for a moment. Everyone else was either looking down at their plates in discomfort or, in Mr. Weasley's case, looking up at the sky in exasperation and disheartenment. I, meanwhile, remained as still as a statue in my chair, my heart pounding as my stomach squirmed with uneasiness.

"Ginny, you know Fred's trying to move on," Mrs. Weasley said softly. "He doesn't like revisiting what happened."

"Moving on doesn't mean forgetting that Percy was even our brother to begin with," Ginny said. "He was a person who existed and we should treat him as such. Especially since he died doing something heroic."

"Yeah, saving Fred's life," Bill said, gently. "Think of how Fred feels. Cut him a break."

"You're one to talk," Ginny snapped. "I don't think you were saying that a few weeks ago when you were giving Fred a piece of your mind."

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley barked.

"It's been a year," Ginny said. "We're all healing. I know it's harder on Fred, but I think he should talk about it. That's his whole problem. He tries to ignore it and keep it all in and all that does is cause more problems. He explodes, then shoves the mess under the rug and pretends it doesn't exist. Until it all explodes again."

"I think I'm going to go after him," George said quietly, standing up from his own chair.

"Yes, I suppose you'd better," Mrs. Weasley said. The anxious look on her face was enough to give away that not only was she worried about Fred, but she didn't trust him off on his own when he was this upset.

Mrs. Weasley turned to me sadly. "I'm sorry you had to see this, dear," she said. "I know why Fred didn't tell you himself-he doesn't like to talk about it. But at the same time, you do deserve to know if you're going to spending time around us-and the twins."

"It's not my business," I said quietly. "None of you owe me any kind of explanation."

"But like Ginny said, it helps some of us," Bill explained. "It's hard, but ignoring Percy's existence is even harder, and more painful. To me, anyway. And to most of us. But Fred's life was the one he saved. I expect it's different for him."

It took a little bit, but the conversation got moving again as I learned more about the Weasley family as I started to relax a bit again. I learned that, as Mrs. Weasley had mentioned, they'd been here at the Burrow since she and Mr. Weasley had gotten married nearly thirty years ago. Mr. Weasley worked at the Ministry of Magic in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. He loved Muggles-found them all too fascinating-and even had a shed where he tinkered with Muggle objects. Apparently there had also been a flying car, but that was now roaming the forest at Hogwarts thanks to Ron and Harry, who'd attempted to fly it to school one year. That story earned a huff from Mrs. Weasley, although the others found it quite funny.

I learned that Bill worked as a curse breaker for Gringott's, the wizard bank here. That was where he had started to get to know Fleur, who had come here originally for the Triwizard Tournament in 1994, but then stayed here to improve her English. Just as I had suspected, her reason for moving was a lot simpler and normal than mine.

The second oldest Weasley, Charlie, was currently in Romania working with dragons and couldn't get much time off to come home. I remembered Fred telling me that he was the one who'd really liked Quidditch.

The twins obviously owned their own shop and, much to my surprise, had dropped out of school to open it.

"You mean Fred didn't tell you?" Ginny asked, noticing my expression.

I shook my head. "No."

"Well that's odd," Ginny said with a shrug. "Even if you two did just meet, that's one of Fred's favorite stories."

"Dropping out of school?" I asked curiously.

"Not quite the dropping out of school bit," Ginny said, "but the way they dropped out of school. I mean, they don't regret doing it one bit, even though Mum nearly fainted when she found out. She already thought it was bad that they only got three OWLs each." She laughed.

"So how'd they do it?" I asked.

"Ask Fred to tell you when he cheers up a bit," Ginny suggested. "Or maybe it'll even help him cheer up." She shook her head thoughtfully, reminiscing of that day. "Honestly, it was incredible. People were talking about it for days."

By the time everyone was finished eating and had started busying themselves with cleaning up, Fred and George still weren't back. I stared off towards the trees as I stood from my seat and began gathering plates to bring inside.

"They'll be back eventually," Ginny assured me with a small smile.

"I didn't know how bad Fred really was," I told her quietly as we headed back towards the house, dirty dishes in each of our hands.

"If you think today was bad, you didn't see the worst of it all," Ginny said solemnly. "But that's Fred's story to tell you when he's ready. If he's ready."

"You didn't seem to mind going off about other things he doesn't like talking about," Ron said as he and Harry passed us.

"If you're talking about what happened to Percy, then I have just as much right to talk about that as anyone else. He was my brother too and I can tell people about him if I want to. It's not a secret, no matter how much Fred hates talking about it. How Fred dealt with it-and still deals with it-is his problem."

"Whatever," Ron shrugged as he and Harry led the way inside.

Once we were in the kitchen, I insisted on trying to help clean, but Mrs. Weasley shot me down.

"We have enough hands," she assured me. "And you're a guest."

"You can go get first pick of a broom if you'd like," Ginny said brightly.

"What?" I asked in confusion.

"For Quidditch," Ginny clarified. "Most of us play a game or two every Sunday. Did Fred leave that out too? It doesn't seem like you talk about much after all."

"George mentioned it," I said. I had completely forgotten about playing Quidditch today. My stomach was turning into a puddle of nerves again. This was definitely not the typical family dinner I'd been expecting. Then again, I'm not entirely sure what I had been expecting. A bunch of people laughing around a table without a care in the world? Did families like that exist? I supposed everyone had their own problems, especially wizarding families around here who had just been through a war.

Ginny smiled. "The broom shed is out front and to the left. Go through the living room and out the front door." She gestured with her chin. "Oh, and don't pick the broom with the red string tied around the end. It's Fred's. Sort of. He has his own at his place, but he insists on using that one in the shed every time he's here. It's not exactly fair, and normally I'd tell you to take it on purpose, but we're not supposed to 'purposely rile Fred'." She made quote marks in the air.

"Something you keep forgetting," Mrs. Weasley sighed.

Ginny shrugged and turned back to washing the dishes as I stood where I was in silence for a moment. I turned to look towards the living room before glancing back towards the others. And then I made my way into the next room, if anything to have something to do with myself.

In the living room, I found myself pausing at the mantle, gazing at all the family photos gathered on top. There was a photo of the twins on opening day of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. One of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, all around the age of thirteen or fourteen. One of a young Ginny with her two front teeth missing.

I stopped at a photo of a redheaded boy around seventeen. He had glasses and wavy hair (red, of course), and was wearing a shiny gold badge on the front of his robes. Head Boy, the badge read. The boy had a proud smile on his face and was sticking his chest out to make the badge even more noticeable. I remembered Ginny saying that Percy could sometimes be pompous. This had to be him. He was the only Weasley I hadn't met yet besides Charlie, and something told me that the boy in this picture was not the type to be working with dragons in Romania.

My eyes suddenly shifted to the clock. The odd one I'd seen on my way in that had nine hands. Up close, I could see that each hand had a moving, smiling photo of one of the Weasley's on the end. Down the handles, their names were inscribed in cursive. And instead of the face of the clock containing numbers, it depicted places. Currently, seven of the hands pointed to home. One of them-Charlie's-pointed to work. And then there was Percy's. Pointing at mortal peril. Well, shit. That was cheerful.

I squinted a bit as I leaned closer to inspect Percy's picture on the end of the clock hand. He was smiling here-genuinely. He didn't seem as serious as he did in the other photo. The resemblance to his mother in the clock picture was way more pronounced. But this proved that I had been right. The photo of the boy wearing the badge was Percy.

I turned back to said photo and studied it. I studied his face-the moving photo depicting his mouth turning up into a small, proud, half-smile before returning to a serious expression. So this was Percy Weasley. The boy who may have saved Fred's life, but apparently had really messed him up in doing so. I couldn't look away from the photo. Looking at it felt eerie, but I couldn't for the life of me tear my eyes away.

"Pompous git, isn't he?" a voice asked from behind me.

I jumped and turned towards the front door to see Fred standing there. And he was dripping wet.

"Uh..." I began, more of a reaction to his appearance than a response to his question. I looked him up in down in concern and confusion, but he ignored it as he squelched towards me, dripping water everywhere in the process. He stood beside me and stared at the photo, his jaw set.

"George and I changed that badge to read so many offensive things. Bighead Boy was the go-to. Humungous Bighead was another, as well as Humungous Backside." He shook his head as he stared aimlessly at the photo, lost in thought. I stared at him in silence, waiting for him to go on. And finally he did, turning to the clock as he did so. "That's been like that for over a year now," he said, pointing to Percy's hand on mortal peril. "Even before the battle...All of our hands went to mortal peril for a bit because we were all constantly in so much danger. But this one," he lightly flicked Percy's, "never moved again." He turned to me. "I broke it off last year. Snapped it right off the clock and flung it clear across the room. But as you can see, Mum fixed it."

I stared at him in surprise, slightly open mouthed.

"Nothing to say, huh?" Fred asked with a scoff. "As usual." He turned and started for the stairs.

"Fred," I called after him. "I'm just...processing."

He nodded as he turned towards me. "Sure. But even afterwards, were you planning on saying anything? And, what, in the meantime you were just going to stand there gaping at me?" He shrugged. "Whatever. It doesn't matter." There was a pause. "You know, I thought you might end up being the one person I knew who I could avoid getting the sympathy look from. The pity look. I thought you'd be the one person who I could count on not treating me like I'm brittle."

"I'm not looking at you any special way," I said.

"Not now. Now you just look like you've been hit over the head."

"You have no idea what I would or wouldn't do," I said quietly. "Besides, I didn't ask for this information."

"That's another reason I didn't want to bring you around," Fred went on. "I knew you'd find out. I didn't want my family to assume things and I didn't want you to hear anything yet. I don't even know why I caved." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "George doesn't even know what he's talking about. He's got this idea in his head that you can help me, but even he can't help me. And believe it or not, you not knowing about my past was a help. And now it's ruined. But you know what else? You can't help me if you barely speak."

"How did you want me to react, Fred?" I sighed. "Did you want me to smile at you? Act happy that your brother died? Talk about your experience as if I know anything about it or even have a right to talk to you about it? I don't know what you want from me."

"I would've liked to avoid you knowing at all," he said. And with that, he turned and marched up the rickety staircase, taking them two at a time.

"He doesn't mean any of that," another voice said from behind me. I turned to see George standing there, also soaking wet. "You'll have to excuse him."

"Why are you both soaking wet?" I asked. "Do you normally go swimming in your clothes when you visit your family?"

George sent me a wry smile before it quickly faded. "Fred jumped into the pond behind the house. I had to go in and get him."

I blinked. "Why?"

George sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "He hasn't done it in a while, but for a while, after the battle and after he was out of St. Mungo's, he'd say he was going for a swim. And he'd just go into the pond, swim around for a bit, and then go underwater and hold his breath. He'd test his limits every time, holding his breath as long as he could. The first time I saw him do it, I panicked, thinking for sure he'd died. I jumped in and pulled him right out. But I couldn't stop him from going back in. At least not right away. He kept sneaking back, managing to hold his breath for longer and longer each time. I'm not sure he was purposely trying to die, but he certainly didn't care if he did."

"What made him finally quit it?" I asked.

"Mum put a charm around the entire pond. Wouldn't let him in. And it also set off an alarm if he got too close, alerting someone that he was out there."

Goosebumps had popped up all over my arms and I sunk down into a chair. "And he just tried to do it again now?" I asked, looking up at George. "Because of me?"

"No, not because of you," George said.

"He's upset because Ginny told me about Percy," I argued. "He didn't want me to know." I paused. "Except...I did already know. I just didn't say anything. Rachel told me last night at the Three Broomsticks. I didn't even really want her to. I tried to stop her, but..." I trailed off and sighed. "I thought maybe it'd be better if Fred knew I knew, but I wasn't sure and I decided against it in the end." I looked up at George sadly. "I didn't ask for any of this. I didn't want any of this. I feel for Fred. All of you, really. And that's the thing...I have my own stuff to deal with without having to worry about helping Fred and worrying about what he does or doesn't want me to know."

George swallowed and looked at me before letting out a bitter laugh and running a hand through his wet hair. "Maybe you're right. Maybe it was a mistake to bring you here." It was quiet for a moment. "I'm going to go get cleaned up and check on Fred."

And then just like that, he was gone, leaving me sitting in the living room alone.