It was a little over a month after Fred and I had gotten back from New York. Fred had invited me over for dinner on a Friday night. That afternoon, he stopped by The Leaky Cauldron during his lunch hour to see me, as usual, but he also let Tom and Martha know he'd be back later to pick me up, along with something for us to eat for dinner.

To my annoyance, Tom also used the opportunity to talk to Fred about what he'd told me a few weeks before, even though I'd told Fred myself, as promised.

"Have a seat," Tom told Fred, gesturing to one of the barstools across from him. He'd been wiping down the top of the bar and restocking so that we'd have enough supplies behind the bar for later tonight. He'd kept quiet as Martha took down the dinner order for later and brought it back to the kitchen, but the moment she left, Tom had turned to Fred, his expression all business.

"Tom, please," I sighed as Fred obeyed Tom's demand and sat down.

"Sophie," Tom began, "Fred needs to know that I will not have you being late for work and I will not have him contributing to it, either. You were never late to work before you began seeing him."

"Technically, I've been seeing him since November," I pointed out. "This was the first time I was ever late since then. Or that I've even been late ever."

"I'm not an idiot," Tom said. "Your relationship is starting to get serious, I understand that, and I will not have it affecting your job performance."

"It won't," I assured him. "I've already promised it won't happen again."

"Sophie didn't know anything else besides work when she first got here," Martha said earnestly, appearing beside Tom behind the bar. "She wasn't living." She smiled and reached up to put a hand on Tom's cheek. "Tom, just leave them be. We were the same way when we first started dating. My father certainly yelled at you more than once about bringing me home after curfew."

Fred raised his eyebrows. "Really?" He asked in interest.

"That's some interesting information, Tom," I commented lightly.

"No, it's not," he said. "Now go back to work."

I sighed and said goodbye to Fred, squeezing his hand as a symbol of departure instead of a kiss. He smiled deviously and picked up the stray dish rag that Tom had been using to wipe down the bar before acting as if he were about to swat me in the behind with it, but keeping his eyes on Tom, watching for his reaction with a smirk on his face. That was mostly the reason he'd even done it-to antagonize Tom. And it worked.

"Oi!" Tom said, snatching the dish rag back, swatting it across Fred's arm with a smack, and then hitting Fred upside the head with his hand as Fred only laughed and flinched away.

"Okay, okay," Fred said, holding up his hands.

"Don't let me catch you doing that again," Tom said. "Harassing the employees doesn't happen here. You heard me tell that group of Slytherins that I don't tolerate disrespect of anyone in this pub."

"Come on, Tom," Fred said, his expression turning serious. "That's different. I was just having some fun. Sophie knows that. She doesn't mind."

"I mind," Tom snapped.

"Tom, look, I understand you don't want him to do that while I'm working," I said. "I've told him not to as well, but-"

"I don't want him to do it at all," Tom interrupted.

I sighed slightly, but ignored Tom's comment. "Don't compare him to Flint and his friends. They're the vile and disrespectful ones."

"You should've seen the way they treated Sophie a few weeks ago over at the joke shop!" Fred added. "They said loads of disrespectful things. They-" He broke off when I nudged his arm and shook my head. But it was too late.

"You didn't mention this," Tom said, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "What happened? What did they do?" He looked between me and Fred. When we didn't answer, he let out a heavy sigh and leaned forward. "Answer me. What did they do?"

"It doesn't matter," I said hastily. "We handled it."

"Yeah?" Tom asked. He turned to Fred and narrowed his eyes. "What did you do about them harassing her?"

"He got plenty angry, if that's what you're worried about," I said with a frown. "He stood up for me. He and George both did. But I was also handling it myself before they showed up."

"She almost hexed Pansy Parkinson into another dimension," Fred chuckled. When he saw Tom still glaring at us, he sighed. "Look, they're not allowed back in the shop anymore. Ever. And they owe us for merchandise they broke."

"I don't give a damn about the merchandise," Tom growled.

"Thomas, will you stop it?" Martha said with a frown. "Can't you just ease up on the poor boy? You're going to frighten him away."

"Nah, that's alright, Martha," Fred said, crossing his arms and staring at Tom steadily. "I don't frighten easily."

"I just need to be sure that you are going to treat Sophie right," Tom told Fred. "No funny business. She's been through enough."

"He's not who you need to be worrying about!" I retaliated hotly.

"Do not speak to me like that," Tom snapped. "You need to get back to work." When I didn't move, he let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Believe me, I have half a mind to go after those Slytherin boys myself. But I also wanted to know what Fred here did to ensure that it never happens again. From what I'm hearing, he was more concerned with his shop's merchandise."

"That is not true!" I said furiously. "It's not!" I glared at Tom in anger as I balled my hands into fists. "I just told you he came to my defense!"

"Lower your voice," he told me.

I did as he said and my next words came out low and full of anger. "I am so sick of having to defend Fred to people who should already know what kind of person he is. From what I understand, you've always gotten along with him. He and George would sit right here at the bar and talk to you while you were working! They were doing that the night I met them. You and Martha even told me they were nice and that I should spend some time with them. You had nothing but nice things to say about his parents. So if that's the case, then what has been going on with you lately? Ever since I came back from New York, you've been so worried about what Fred's been doing and how he's been treating me. You've never been this concerned about him before but for the last few weeks, you've been up his ass!"

"Sophie!" Martha gasped as Tom turned red with fury and glared at me. Even Fred cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. But when I glanced at him, I saw him fighting back a smile.

"Go. Back. To. Work." Tom's voice came out in a low growl and he slowly enunciated every word. "Now. We'll talk about this later."

I swallowed and shook my head. "Later I am going to Fred's."

"When I tell you to do something," Tom said, "you will do it. Do you hear me? And I have half a mind to tell you that you will not be going to Fred's. You expect me to reward behavior like this?"

"You know what, Tom?" I snapped. "Regardless of what Kyle said or what you think you are to me, you are not my father. You say things are different now, but you still didn't even want me here. If it wasn't for Martha, I wouldn't even be here." I let out a dry laugh and threw my hands out to the sides before letting them flap back against my legs. "Hell, if it wasn't for Martha, I might have very well been dead. That's where I'd be if you got your way. So don't even try to stand there telling me what to do and acting like you're so concerned now for my safety." I slapped my notepad and quill on the bar and ripped off my apron. "I'm taking my break early." And then I stormed off. I heard Martha coming after me, calling my name, but I ignored her.

I rushed up the kitchen stairs and let myself into the flat, where I immediately shut the door behind me and locked it. I leaned my forehead against it, as well as the palms of my hands as my breath came in heavy gasps. A moment later, I heard Martha outside in the hall, asking me to open the door and talk to her, but I didn't reply. Instead, I turned and pressed my back to the door as I slid down to the ground and pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes.

As I sat there and calmed myself down, I realized that I had said a few things that I shouldn't have said. Things that were hurtful. But I had been so angry. One thing that I had meant, though, was what I said about being sick of defending Fred to people who I shouldn't have needed to defend him to. It wasn't that I was sick of defending him at all, because I knew I would defend him without a second thought for the rest of my life. But to have to defend him to people like Tom and even Rachel, who were good people, but had known Fred for years before I did, even if they hadn't know him well. But then suddenly, it seemed as if all they could do was judge him and question his intentions when there were people like Marcus Flint walking around. Couldn't they tell how good Fred was to me? Couldn't they see how everything had changed because of him? I knew Rachel did now, but what about Tom? He was wasting his time worrying about Fred.

Although I still felt sure of all of that, I did feel badly about telling Tom he didn't care and that he wasn't my father. He may not have been, but he'd done more than my own father had. He'd still allowed me to stay here in the end. He'd given me a job and paid me for it. He'd given me food and clothes and shelter. And he'd made me tea after every one of my nightmares. A damn good cup of tea, too.

I sat there for another ten minutes, composing myself before I stood up from the floor and opened the door. The hallway was empty. I took in a breath, dried my eyes and fixed my hair before heading back downstairs to the kitchen. Martha was there, preparing someone's lunch and I walked over to stand beside her.

"Where is he?" I asked quietly.

She didn't meet my eyes, but I saw her smile. "He stepped out for a bit. He needed some air. I told him it was a good idea and we'd be fine here for a bit." She finished what she was doing and turned to look at me.

"I said some things I shouldn't have said," I told her. "But I was so angry. Not that it makes it right, but-"

"Tom cares about you, Sophie," Martha said quietly. "He was tough on you when you first got here-and he still may a bit tough. But things have changed. Believe me. You've become almost a daughter to him. But at the same time, you're right-he doesn't need to worry about Fred not treating you well. Despite what that boy's been through, Molly and Arthur have raised him right." She shook her head and sighed. "You and Tom are both angry. But that's why you're now going to take some time to calm down and talk about this later. It'll be okay."

"I just don't understand why people can't see Fred the way I do. Instead, they judge him now for things that happened almost two years ago."

Martha didn't say anything for a moment. "People judge each other," she said simply. "It's almost human nature, even if we try not to. It's hard not to even make a quick judgement about someone upon first meeting them or even after only getting one small glimpse into their life. Catch two seconds of a stranger's worst day and they'll be immortalized as how they behaved." She shrugged. "The same goes for when someone makes a mistake or is going through something that other people know nothing about. And I think lots of us have unfortunately judged Fred for one thing or another since the day he was born, even though we've known him. Whether it was the way he and George drove their poor mother crazy, or if it was-more unfortunately-how he reacted after what happened to him, what with losing his brother and then Angelina. But you're right...we shouldn't judge people. Especially based on a few poor decisions or something that happened to them in their past. Look at you for example."

"What about me?" I asked.

"If we had judged you based on how you looked and acted when we first met you, we wouldn't have taken you in at all. And like you said, you might've died. So I'm glad I fought for you to stay. And you're not that person anymore! Look how you've grown! You're waitressing now. Confidently. You stood up to that group of troublemakers that tripped you. You spoke your mind when you felt Tom was in the wrong, which you would never have done last year. I know he's a little gruff, and you've always been quieter and afraid to upset him, or anyone really. But even though you said some things to him today out of anger, you stood up for what you felt was right. You stood up for Fred and you stood up for yourself. You stood up for your relationship with Fred. A year ago, you weren't interested in standing up for yourself or anyone else. You didn't care. But today you put yourself first. And you've still been able to admit that some things you said were wrong. That takes courage."

I processed that for a moment before pulling her into a hug. She hugged me back before pulling away and putting a comforting hand on my cheek.

"Tom will be back later," she said. "You can talk to him then, or even tomorrow morning if he's already asleep by the time you come home. Don't worry. He'll be okay. He's just not used to this-he's never had to take on the role of a father before. It's new to him just like it's new to you. You're learning how to be so many things at one time."

I nodded. "Did Fred leave?"

Martha nodded. "He had to go, but he said he'll be back for you later."

I nodded. "He's picking me up once my shift is over," I said. "I'll be back later tonight. Probably around midnight, if that's okay?"

Martha nodded. "Just make sure you lock the door behind you when you come in."

"Of course," I said.

Martha handed me my notepad, quill and apron that I'd left on the bar. "Get back to work now, darling. Your tables are waiting."

I took the items from her and pulled my apron back on. "Thanks Martha," I said.

She lovingly patted my cheek before turning back to preparing another guest's order.


By the time I was waiting back downstairs in the pub to meet Fred, Tom still wasn't back yet. Martha didn't seem to be concerned and said he'd be back shortly. She even admitted with a sigh that she wouldn't be surprised if Tom wasn't being a little bit childish and staying away for longer so that he wouldn't have to face me just yet.

"Don't worry too much," Martha assured me, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Go have fun with Fred."

"Oh, she will," Kayla said teasingly as she walked past me. She wiggled her shoulders suggestively and gave me a knowing smile.

I blushed so hard, that I could feel my skin growing warm not only on my cheeks and face, but on my neck. As I stood there, feeling mortified, the back door that led to Diagon Alley opened and Fred slipped inside. He looked around and saw me, and when he did, he broke out into a smile.

"Well, if it isn't the little firecracker," he said when he'd made it over to where Martha and I were standing.

"I thought I was a little hermit," I said quietly, smiling up at him.

"Not after what happened at lunch," Fred responded, staring at me with raised eyebrows. I scowled and he laughed as he turned to Martha. "Hi, Martha," he said. "Thanks for agreeing to provide dinner for us tonight."

"Don't mention it, dear," Martha said, patting his cheek in a motherly way, just like she'd done to me moments ago.

"How's Tom?" Fred asked gently.

"Still off sulking right now, but he'll be back," she replied. "In the meantime, I told Sophie to go and enjoy herself." She squeezed my arm and smiled at me. "I have your food in the back, let me just go grab it for you."

She hurried away and Fred and I stood there looking at each other.

"Are you alright?" Fred whispered. "Martha told me to leave you be for a bit after you'd run off. But I couldn't hang around too much longer at lunchtime. I had to get back, unfortunately."

I shook my head. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine."

"You were pretty angry." Fred let out an amused chuckle.

I made a face of disgust. "I was, but it's not really all that funny. I said some things I've since regretted..."

"Don't we all when we're that angry?" Fred shrugged.

"Fred, I told him he wasn't my father and I didn't need him telling me what to do. I told him I'd be dead if it were up to him. Which isn't true. He's done more for me than both of my real parents ever have."

"Okay, there were some parts that were a little rough," Fred admitted. "But what you said about defending me-you were right. It is exhausting having to defend yourself to someone who's known you forever. I even got tired of defending myself to people I didn't think I owed it to or should even have to defend myself to. Including my own family at times." He let out a puff of air and intertwined his fingers with mine. "I gave up after a while, but you've continued to do it anyway, when a year ago you wouldn't even defend yourself. Not to Marcus Flint, not to Tom, and not even to me when I stepped on your foot and hit you with a door." He laughed and even I found myself smiling. "I appreciate your efforts."

Before I could say anything, Martha had returned with a bag containing our dinner for the night. She handed it to Fred with a smile. "I added something extra for dessert," she whispered. "Apple pie."

Fred let out a thankful groan and put a hand over his stomach. "Martha, you're too good to me," he said.

"I know you like it," she answered before turning to me and kissing my cheek. "You'll be back at midnight, yes?"

I nodded and turned to nudge Fred jokingly. "Midnight. You hear that? When I tell you I have to go tonight, you need to let me go."

Fred pouted and let out a whine. "It's hard," he said.

"I know. Which is why when you start begging me to stay, I always end up cracking. And look where it got me. It got both of us into hot water with Tom."

"You pay him no mind," Martha said. "If I had listened to him, Sophie wouldn't even be here. Besides, he could be just as convincing. Or maybe I was just weak," she laughed. "It didn't take much on his part to convince me to stay out late. You heard me say he got me into trouble with my own father plenty of times."

"You're not weak, Martha," I assured her.

She shrugged. "Well," she sighed, "I think when it came to Tom I always was. With most other things in life, you're right, I can be very strong willed. I fought for you, didn't I? But my one weakness in life was always Tom. And it always will be, no matter how ornery he gets." She gave us one more smile before ushering us out the door. "Now seriously, get on out of here."

Fred and I walked down Diagon Alley, hand in hand, and in a comfortable silence, enjoying each other's company. There was a light dusting of snow on the ground and a light snowfall coming from the sky. It was blanketing the alley with not only the white, frozen flakes, but the silent stillness that only snow seemed to bring. The lights from the street lamps cast an eerily beautiful glow over the snow on the ground and also over the flakes falling from the sky, making everything look almost surreal.

But it was also freezing outside, so I was thankful when Fred unlocked the back door to the shop and let us inside. "George is out with Katie tonight, so it's just us," he informed me as we headed up the stairs to the flat.

"Okay," I said, shrugging off my coat as I stepped through the doorway. Fred took my coat from me, leaning in for a kiss as he did so. He hung my coat up as well as his own and led me to the kitchen, where he started to unpack our dinner.

"This smells so good," he commented.

"It does," I agreed, sitting down at the table and propping my chin up on my hands. "So...what else did Tom say to you this afternoon after I left?"

Fred glanced at me as he finished removing the cartons of food from the bag Martha had handed him. When it was empty, he folded up the bag and put it behind him on the kitchen counter before turning back to me.

"Not much," he finally said, taking a seat across from me. "He left the pub himself not long after you disappeared. But he just really enforced that he didn't want you being late to work a habit. He said you were always nice and polite and respectful and you always abided by his rules. He said he didn't intend for any of that to change now."

"It won't," I said, rolling my eyes. "I'm still nice and polite and respectful. And I told him I wouldn't be late again."

Fred opened the containers of food and slid mine across to me along with utensils. He shrugged. "He probably thinks I'll rub off on you now that we spend so much time together."

"We've always spent time together," I pointed out, digging my fork into my chicken pot pie. It smelled heavenly and I was practically drooling over it. "He and Martha were the ones who told me I should even visit your joke shop."

"It's different now, Soph," Fred said. "You know that and so does Tom. Why else do you think he came down hard after New York? He said himself that he can see we're serious about each other."

"Even still, you're not who he needs to worry about. I meant it when I said that too."

"He's not worried about me hurting you so much as me defending you. Protecting you. Keeping you safe. Or me being a bad influence on you and keeping you out late and delaying you getting to work."

"And you care?" I asked in disbelief. "You care about being a bad influence on me or making me late to work? I'd think you'd find that amusing, actually."

Fred actually laughed. "I do find it amusing and I don't care about what kind of influence I have on you. Not really. I'm not afraid of Tom." He shrugged. "But I get where he's coming from, that's all. He cares about you, too, Soph. He just-he shows it differently than most people."

"He knows what happened in Salem, though!" I fumed. "He knows you saved my life. And you're not even that much of a bad influence. I can think for myself, too. Me being late wasn't entirely your fault. You didn't force me to stay here."

Fred shrugged again and smirked. "I know you can think for yourself, but George and I aren't strangers to causing trouble." He let out a short, quiet laugh and gazed nostalgically across the room. "You know about what happened when we dropped out of school, for one thing. Besides that, we used to trick people into eating Canary Creams, back when they were in the testing phase, and watch as the person sprouted feathers. We even fed the Hogwarts caretaker's cat an early version of a Ton-Tongue Toffee. Her tongue grew to three feet long. Still not as long as Harry's cousin's tongue grew to."

I gaped at him. "Fred, no," I gasped. "Why would you do that to a poor cat? Or to Harry's innocent cousin?"

Fred snorted. "Harry's cousin was not innocent. He gave Harry so much trouble. Years worth. And Filch's cat was far from innocent either. She was his little sidekick and would run off to find him at the first sign of someone even sneezing the wrong way."

"There's a wrong way to sneeze?" I asked dryly.

"According to Filch there was." He looked at me and smiled as he leaned back in his chair. "Hey, stop looking at me like that," he laughed. "At least George and I didn't petrify the cat and hang her from a torch bracket on Halloween like Ginny did." He smirked. "Cat was stiff as a board and Filch was in hysterics."

"I'm sorry, Ginny did what?" I asked, setting down my fork and staring at Fred.

"Oh yeah," Fred said with a nod. "She petrified the cat, petrified some Muggleborns, killed some chickens, wrote on the walls in blood..."

"Stop that right now, Fred Weasley," I demanded. "It's not funny. She did not do any of that."

"She did!" He said, letting out a laugh. "Ask her yourself." He hesitated and looked at the ceiling in mock thoughtfulness. "Although, if you do, she'll probably mention how she did all that during the time she was using Voldemort's diary and he possessed her."

"Fred!" I cried in exasperation, leaning forward to swat at his shoulder. He only laughed in response.

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to be sharing any of that chicken pot pie, would you?" He asked, leaning over and digging in with his fork for a bite.

"Only if you're sharing your food," I answered, reaching for one half of Fred's roast beef sandwich. He lightly slapped my hand away and grabbed his plate, moving it out of my reach. "Hey!" I protested.

"Oh, so sorry," Fred said, his voice full of mock sympathy as he continued holding his food away from me and taking another bite. "You'll have to be quicker next time." He took another bite and sighed dramatically. "Mm, so good. Bet you wish you had some, huh?"

"Jerk," I muttered. "I'm going to tell Kyle to spit in your food next time."

"Ooh, that's cold, Sophie," Fred said. "Weren't you the one just telling me how nice you were?"

"And weren't you just telling me how Tom was worried about you being a bad influence?"

"You were saying how you could think for yourself, yeah?" Fred teased. "Don't let me influence you."

I shot him a look. "You don't make it easy," I muttered.

"So I've heard," Fred laughed.

I let out a scoff and leaned back in my seat, guarding my dinner as best I could in case Fred came at it for another bite. Once we had finally finished eating, Fred seemed to get quiet for a minute.

"Soph...there's actually something I wanted to talk to you about tonight," he said.

"Okay," I answered slowly. I looked at him in confusion as he looked back at me thoughtfully.

"Just give me one minute," he finally said, standing up from his chair and heading down the hallway towards his bedroom. "I'll be right back."

He returned a moment later with something clenched in his fist. He dragged his chair over so that it was closer to me and sat back down.

"Are you okay?" I asked him skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

Fred nodded. "I haven't been entirely truthful with you," he said. "As I'm sure you've guessed-that new product that I told you I was working on? It was something that would put an end to your nightmares. For good."

"Oh. Yeah, I knew that," I laughed. For a moment, he'd had me nervous, wondering what he could have possibly wanted to talk to me about.

"It wasn't a complete lie," he went on. "It is also going to be a product. George and I think we can sell it in the shop. For people who have a similar issue to yours. I wanted to check with you on it first, though, because I didn't want you to think I was trying to profit off of your nightmares."

"Of course you should sell it," I said at once. I didn't even think it should be a question. If other people were having similar experiences to mine, and if Fred had found a way to put a stop to it, why shouldn't he give them the opportunity to benefit from it too? It would almost be selfish of me to keep it all to myself.

Fred chuckled. "I'm glad you feel that way," he said. He opened his fist and placed a vial of deep purple liquid on the table.

"That's it?" I asked almost breathlessly as I looked down at it.

"That's it," Fred said.

"How'd you figure it out?" I asked.

"Lots of research, late nights, and trial and error," Fred said. "But we did have somewhat of a starting point to go off of. See, George and I have another product already-a daydream charm-that gives the user thirty minutes of vivid daydreams. They're part of the love potion brand, actually. They're a little strong, and I know you and I also discussed the strength of a sleeping drought or even a dreamless sleep potion. I wanted to come up with something else-something similar-that wouldn't take you out of commission while you were sleeping, but would still effectively give you only good dreams instead of nightmares. In other words, weak enough to allow you to wake up if you have to, but strong enough to completely banish the nightmares."

"And you've done it?" I asked, looking down at the vial.

"I've done it," he said. "We've done it-George and I. He'll say it was mostly me, but he helped too."

I reached out and picked up the vial, slowly turning it between my fingers. I didn't even know what to say at the moment. As much as I'd tried to tell Fred to relax about figuring something out before he drove himself crazy or he dove too deep into his work where I never saw him at all, I was impressed, flattered and thankful. But most of all, I was hopeful.

"George and I began testing it ourselves a few days ago," Fred said. "And so far, there haven't been any negative reactions and we've both been having really good dreams." He chuckled. "Two drops of that in a mug of tea will last you a week, so you won't be taking it every day. The whole vial should last about six months, but George and I also want to sell a bigger vial that'll last a full year." He shrugged. "You can mix that in with anything, by the way, not just tea. Or just take it by itself. It doesn't have a strong taste, just a hint of sweetness. It's pretty good, actually. So it's whatever you feel like."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I held the vial in my lap and continued to stare down at it. I brushed the tears away and sniffed. "Fred," I breathed, letting out a watery laugh. I looked up at him and smiled. "You're amazing."

Fred grinned. "I know," he whispered.

I looked at him tearfully as I suddenly stomped my foot slightly in frustration. "This is why I can't stand that people like Marcus Flint call you childish and uneducated." I let out a frustrated groan and stood up to clear my dishes from the table. "Honestly, how dare they!"

Fred laughed and bowed his head as he let out a frustrated groan of his own. "Sophie, it doesn't matter. You and I and everyone else I care about all know it's not true. Even if it was, I now earn more money than he'll ever see in his life. I can spend circles around his sorry ass."

I scoffed as I placed my dish in the sink and then downed the rest of my drink. "That's not as important as the fact that he insulted your intelligence. Your kindness, your determination, your brilliance."

Fred stood up and came to stand in front of me as I turned away from the sink and leaned against the counter. He took my hands in his and smiled down at me.

"I love how much you think the sun shines out of my ass," he laughed. "But Marcus Flint is a caveman. We know this."

"That's not what you were saying when he kept creepily hitting on me. Or when he tripped me or threw his drink in my face."

"Actually, I did tell you he was a caveman-or was it a baboon?-after he threw a drink on your face. I said it to make you feel better. And because it's true."

"Yes, but you were still angry! And you were angry the most recent time, too. You were about to rip his head off! So if you can be angry and still realize he's a giant troll of a human being, why can't I?"

Fred laughed. "Yes, I was angry," he said. "But he still does not matter. Don't let him take up space inside your head. That's kind of what he wants. Be angry, but then let it go-let him go. Forget about him completely. Until the next time he does something stupid. That's usually how it goes with him. You'll never convince him that I'm not a loser just like I won't be able to convince him that you're not a piece of meat, or an object. It's frustrating, but what can we do about it in the end? Besides banish him from the shop and send every family member who works at the Ministry out after him to collect every last Sickle he owes me." He smirked down at me. "And I'll enjoy taking it from him too."

I let out a slow puff of air. "You're right," I said. "I'm sorry. I should've just been focusing on what you've just done for me and how much I appreciate it and instead I went off about Marcus fucking Flint."

Fred laughed. "It's okay. Usually, Marcus fucking Flint deserves it."

"I just want everyone to love you as much as I do," I said with a cheeky smile.

"That's a very worthwhile and ambitious goal," Fred told me. "But I'm afraid it's impossible."

I sighed dejectedly. "Yeah, I suppose you're right." I leaned up and kissed him. "Thank you. For being so determined."

"I feel like I can finally rest now," Fred sighed, pulling away and clearing his own dishes from the table. "Creating that potion was well worth it, but it nearly drove me insane." He waved his wand and had the dishes start magically washing themselves before grabbing my hand and leading me into the living room, where he collapsed onto the couch, taking up the whole thing with his long limbs.

"You worked so hard, you must be exhausted," I said, sitting on the edge of the couch beside his stomach and massaging a hand over his chest, up to his shoulder and neck and back down again.

"Mm," he said, closing his eyes. "That feels nice, by the way." He flipped over onto his stomach and nestled his head into his arms. "Keep doing it, but to my back."

I laughed and did as he said. We sat in silence for a bit as I absentmindedly rubbed his back and shoulder, my hand even straying up the back of his neck and into his hair a few times.

At one point, I thought Fred had even fallen asleep. He lay silent and still, his eyes were closed and his expression was almost stoic. I stilled the motion of my hand, and Fred's nose and forehead immediately crinkled in disappointment.

"Don't stop," he murmured.

I laughed. "I thought you were asleep."

"Never," he sighed. "That would waste valuable time that I could be spending with you."

"That's sweet," I said. I let out a contented sigh as I gazed around the living room. My eyes fell on the wizards chess set in the corner. "Fred?"

"Hm?"

"Will you teach me how how to play wizards chess?" I asked.

Fred rolled over to his back again and squinted up at me groggily. "You want to learn?" He asked, a gleeful smile lighting up his lips.

I nodded. "I'd like to, yeah."

He sat up and smiled wider before leaning in to kiss me. "I thought you'd never ask," he said, hopping up from the couch and going over to take a seat one one side of the chess board.

I got up and followed him almost apprehensively, sitting down and studying the pieces in silent fascination.

"It's a beautiful set," I said, tracing a finger lightly over one of the pieces.

"Cost an arm and a leg, too," Fred muttered, adjusting a few of the pieces on his side. "George and I decided to splurge on it not long after we'd opened the shop. I don't regret it, though."

"I wouldn't either," I said. "I know nothing about chess and even I can tell it's beautiful."

"Sure, but what really made it all worth it was the completely envious look on Ron's face when he saw it."

"Have you ever let him use it?" I asked.

Fred nodded. "Yeah, I've felt generous a few times." He finished adjusting some of the pieces he was fiddling with and looked up at me eagerly. "Okay...ready?"

"Ready," I answered.


Fred explained the rules of chess to me and talked me through a few games and possible moves and what the outcome would be after each one. And then we played a few games without him coaching me.

I was awful at it and lost every time, even the games where Fred was helping me.

"You didn't actually expect to win a game so soon, did you?" Fred laughed. We were back in the kitchen grabbing the two slices of apple pie Martha had packed for us. Fred was also making us hot chocolate, which I was extremely excited about.

"Well, maybe one game," I said. When Fred looked at me dubiously, I pursed my lips. "I just didn't expect to be as bad as I was the entire time. I don't think I improved at all."

"Sure you did," Fred assured me. "You didn't necessarily need me coaching your every move after the first two games. That's an improvement."

He passed me a plate with a slice of pie on it. We'd warmed it up and put a dollop of whipped cream on the top of each slice.

"You think one day I might be able to beat Ron?" I asked, sticking the edge of my pinky finger into the whipped cream and then sticking my finger in my mouth.

"Maybe," Fred said with a smile. He tilted his head thoughtfully. "One day a very, very long time from now."

"That really boosted my confidence, thanks," I muttered dryly.

Fred chuckled. "That's what I'm here for. Why don't you go on and sit back in the living room?" He suggested. "I'll finish the hot chocolate and bring it in in a moment?"

I nodded and took his dish of apple pie with me, carrying both into the living room and setting them on the coffee table. I made myself comfortable on the floor between the table and the couch, wrapping a blanket around me that Fred had brought out from his room earlier.

Not long after, Fred emerged from the kitchen and set the two mugs of hot chocolate-also complete with whipped cream-on the table beside the apple pie. He used his wand to light a fire in the fireplace and then sat beside me, bringing his knees to his chest and letting them flop outwards slightly as he grabbed his apple pie and held it above his chest as he took a bite, licking whipped cream off of the fork as he did so.

"I could eat this every day," he admitted. "I'm not even kidding."

"Me too," I admitted, digging into my own slice. "Martha's chicken pot pie and her apple pie. I'd just always be full of pie."

"I thought you loved her chocolate cream pie the most."

"I do," I groaned. "The apple pie is a close second. But how do I even choose? Every pie she makes is the best."

"You've never had my mother's blueberry pie, then," Fred said. "That's a pretty good contender."

"I'd love to try it," I said. "Although I don't know how I'm going to bring another pie into the running."

"You did say you wanted to be full of pie," Fred told me. He laughed quietly and shook his head. "If my mother were here, she'd tell you that you'd soon turn into a pie."

"Is that a bad thing?" I joked.

"You'd get eaten, so yes," Fred answered.

I reached out for my mug of hot chocolate, exchanging it with my plate so I could wrap both hands around the mug.

"Oh, by the way," Fred said quickly, "I hope you don't mind but I put two drops of your potion in the hot chocolate. That was another thing I forgot to mention about it-you don't have to take it right before bed. Within an hour or two is fine. It doesn't make you tired, but it reacts when your body does fall asleep and begins to work."

I chuckled quietly. "You thought of everything," I said.

"And you're underestimating me again," he responded.

I laughed again and stared down into my drink. "Have you named this product yet?" I asked.

"Roughly," Fred said. "George and I haven't decided officially, but I'm certain that the name is final. And then we have to come up with the label and get it into all of the vials, and after that, they'll be ready to go."

"What's the name?" I asked.

"Sophie's Wings," Fred said.

"What?" I asked, looking at him in surprise.

"Yeah," Fred nodded. "Part of the advertisement for the product will be how it ensures the freedom to break away from the nightmares that haunt you and hold you back and to finally fly." He looked at me and smiled. "These nightmares are your last major hurdle, Soph. You get rid of these, and you'll be flying. Your angel wings will be back to full health."

I smiled back at him, feeling completely speechless. I had no idea what to say. I was filled with surprise, gratitude and several other emotions. I didn't know how to articulate any of it. Instead, I fiddled with my hot chocolate mug for a moment before taking a deep breath and then taking a sip. I felt my nose hit the whipped cream and smear it onto my face and I tried to wipe it away before Fred saw, but I wasn't quick enough. He laughed at me before passing me a napkin.

"How is it?" He asked.

"It's good," I whispered after I'd taken a few more sips of my drink. "You were right-the potion must be subtle because I don't taste it. I just taste hot chocolate. And it's very chocolatey, just the way I like it. How'd you guess?" I smiled and nudged him with my elbow.

"Everyone likes their hot chocolate extra chocolatey," Fred scoffed.

"I'm sure that's not true," I giggled. "Some people probably don't."

"They shouldn't be trusted, then," Fred argued.

I smiled and looked over at him, reaching out to run a hand through his hair. "I'm flattered that you named the potion after me," I said. "And I'm grateful that you worked so hard to create it for me."

As a response, Fred leaned in and gave me a slow, gentle kiss. I smiled and leaned my head against his shoulder as he pulled away and pressed a kiss to my forehead as well.

We took our time finishing off the rest of our desserts, but they were eventually gone, leaving Fred and I sitting in front of the crackling fire, side by side. I'd offered Fred half of the blanket I had around me and he'd taken it. He'd pulled it off of me for a second and first stretched it out behind his own shoulders, holding either end of the blanket in one of his hands. He tugged my legs onto his lap and I buried my head into the crook of his neck as Fred wrapped his arms-and subsequently, the blanket-around me, enveloping us in a sort of cocoon. We both sat there for a while, the blanket wrapped around us as we watched the flames dancing in the fireplace.

"Do you remember that day over the summer," Fred suddenly began, his voice quiet as he lightly rubbed his thumb back and forth over my hip, "when I first gave you your camera?"

"Mm," I said. "How could I forget? I couldn't even believe you'd done that. Now I know better than to be surprised."

Fred smiled and let out a breath of laughter, his chin brushing against my forehead slightly as he did so. "We got to talking about the day Percy walked out and chose to side with the Ministry. I told you that if my family could forgive him for leaving like he did, they could forgive you for leaving the protective charms around the Burrow for a little while in order to track down the Mystery Woman-your mother, I guess. And then you spoke about Percy in the present tense. You said he is family. Not that he was family. Do you remember?"

I nodded and looked up at him. "I remember," I said. "And it's true."

"I know that," Fred answered. He turned his head to look down at me with a tiny smile. "But I think if I could pin one moment where everything changed, that would be it."

"Where what changed?" I asked slowly, not quite grasping what he was getting at.

"Things changed with you," Fred replied as if it were obvious. "I started looking at you differently. Not as the girl who blew in with the wind and barely spoke. Not as the girl who I wanted to be friends with and share my family with because I could see she needed it, even though I'd told myself I didn't want to get too involved-and you'd told yourself the same. I started to even see you as less of a friend-well, maybe that's not entirely true. I saw you as more of a friend and as someone I was growing closer to. But I suddenly wanted more than friendship. I suddenly wanted to be involved."

I didn't say anything as I processed that. I looked up at the side of Fred's face as he stared into the fire and continued speaking.

"I told myself it was a bad idea. That neither one of us were in a good place for a relationship and that neither of us had been exactly looking for one when we met. And I was certain that you still weren't interested. You had just lost Noah and we suspected that Eric had killed him and you were broken."

"And yet here we are," I whispered. "The two broken misfits."

Fred let out a loud breath of laughter that he tried to quickly stifle. "It shouldn't be funny."

I shrugged. "The world's full of broken people," I said. "What can we do about it? Is there anyone even left who isn't broken at this point?"

"More than likely," Fred said. "Not that I know any personally, but..." He trailed off and shrugged his own shoulders as I giggled into his neck.

Finally, my laughter subsided and I became serious again. "You're right, you know," I sighed. "Everything that happened with Noah-it was bad. You know how it was-you were there. From finding him behind the trash bins to being questioned about his death by Roger, to finding out Eric had impersonated him for three whole days afterwards...I was in an even worse place then I had been when I'd first arrived here. I had told myself I shouldn't get involved in relationships of any kind. But I couldn't help it. Not with friendly relationships like with Rachel, Kayla and Allie, not parental relationships like Tom and Martha, and not romantic relationships like Noah and now you. I just couldn't stop myself and it was terrifying. And when Noah died, it just seemed to prove my point: that relationships were a mistake. I wanted to put my walls back up and I tried to. But I was spending time at the Burrow after that. I was spending more time with you and your family and...I started to care deeply for them too. And then things got complicated with how I felt about you..."

"How so?" Fred asked.

"I was grieving Noah, like you said. But that day you gave me my camera and we were out on the dock by the pond...you were standing backwards on the edge of it, trying to balance yourself there. You were just goofing off-I took a photo of it..."

"I remember," Fred nodded.

"I looked at you and thought-I am in so much fucking trouble."

"Why?" Fred laughed. "Because I was doing something a little reckless or because I looked so good doing it?"

"Both!" I groaned, letting out a laugh of my own before becoming serious again. "I thought-well, I thought how could I be so sad and angry and devastated over Noah, but also feel attracted to you? It didn't feel fair. And I just wanted to all around dig my heels in and fight off every relationship, so a romantic one definitely seemed impossible. But then you snuck me out to your shop to wait for my mother just so I could talk to her. You gave me your Galleon bracelet for protection when I went to pick up lunch. And then you saved my life when I was attacked by Eric in disguise." I let out a dry laugh. "So none of that really helped. It made things even more complicated."

"And I believe at one point I told you I appreciated a well deserved hand gesture and jokingly gave you the middle finger," Fred laughed. "I know that must have been so charming."

I let out a laugh of my own. "I think that was what really did it," I said. "You gave me a rude hand gesture and I said yeah, he's the one."

"Don't tell Tom about that," Fred said, nudging me in the side. "He'll go insane."

"I would never," I answered. I turned to look at him seriously. "I miss Noah," I said. "But in hindsight, I don't think a relationship with him would have worked. I'm not sure he really knew what to make of everything going on with me. He meant well, but he just sometimes seemed at a loss. He was sweet and kind and caring. Maybe overly so, but because of that, he never would've pushed me out of my comfort zone like you have. He never would've pushed me to to back to Salem. He never would've pushed me to talk about my nightmares. He would've given me his opinions-gently, of course, but otherwise he would've just ignored it, thinking it was what I wanted and because it's easier. And it is easier. But it just wasn't what I needed. Or even what I wanted most of the time. It was hard to be pushed in going back to Salem and hard to be pushed to talk about my nightmares in the moment. But most of the time, being babied or ignoring everything completely wasn't what I wanted." I hesitated. "Noah should've been with Rachel."

Fred was quiet as he considered everything I'd said. "They would have balanced each other out nicely," he admitted. "Noah and Rachel. I think she always liked him too, but would never admit it."

"She never said anything to me." I looked up at Fred in slight surprise.

"Well, yeah, I just said she would never admit it, and that includes to herself."

I sighed. "I still hate that I wasn't allowed to go to his funeral."

"Go see him, then," Fred said. When I looked at him in confusion, he clarified. "Go to the cemetery. It may not be completely the same, and it's hard to bring yourself to do it, but once you suck it up and go, it helps. Speaking from experience." He shrugged. "I'll go with you, if you'd like. Or you can ask Rachel if she's up to it."

"That's actually not a bad idea," I murmured.

"I know it's not," Fred chuckled. "I've been known to have good ideas every now and again."

I snorted with laughter. "Yeah, enough good ones to fill an entire joke shop with products that were half your ideas."

Fred smiled as I rested my head back in the crook of his neck and snuggled in closer. We remained like that until it was nearly midnight and time for me to head back to the Leaky Cauldron. Fred even insisted he walk me back to make sure I got back safely.

"Worried I'm going to be attacked in the short walk down the alley?" I teased.

"Don't joke," Fred chided me, slipping on his coat. "It's happened before."

"Well, I also have this now," I pointed out, rolling up my sleeve to show off my Galleon bracelet.

"Impressive, who gave you that?" Fred asked teasingly, quickly kissing my forehead as we headed for the door.

"Some weird guy who stepped on my foot," I answered with a giggle of my own as Fred gave me a playful shove.

He walked me back to the Leaky Cauldron and kissed me goodnight before watching me as I walked inside.

I locked the back door behind me and headed quietly up the stairs, letting myself into the flat and shutting the door behind me with a soft click. The living room was dark and I kept the lights off as I took off my coat. I didn't want to risk waking Tom and Martha.

As I was turning to head down the hall to my bedroom, I saw the soft glow of light coming out from under the kitchen door. I paused and frowned slightly before walking over and pushing the door open.

Tom was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the ceiling lost in thought. One arm was draped over the back of his chair and the other arm was resting on the table, his fingers lightly holding a bottle of fire whiskey as he spun it in a slow circle on the table.

"Tom?" I whispered.

He jolted out of his trance and looked at me, processing the fact that I was standing there.

"Glad to see you made it home on time," he said, leaning forward and resting both elbows on the table as he took a long drink from his firewhiskey.

I sighed and fully entered the room, taking a seat across from him. "Tom," I began. "I want to apologize for some of the things that I said to you earlier. I know that when I first showed up, you didn't know a thing about me. You were just trying to think of Martha and of your business when you said you didn't want me to stay. I get that it wasn't personal and I get that it's different for you now. It's different for me too. Your feelings changed and mine did too. I know you're just trying to protect me. But you don't have to protect me from Fred. And you don't have to be so hard on him. It was half my fault that I was late that day. And it's not like he wanted me to be late. He just wanted to spend time with me. He respects you, you know."

Tom didn't answer. Instead, he continued to stare at his drink as he spun it in those slow circles.

"He's always defended me when it came to Marcus Flint," I said. "Even before he really knew me. And he helped save me from Eric. He's a good person, Tom. And I love him."

Finally, Tom looked up at me, his head quickly jerking up when I mentioned being in love with Fred. He sighed and ran a hand over his jaw.

"He told me what those kids said that day at the joke shop. He told me everything. What exactly they said and did-about him and you. He said he wanted to go after them, but George stopped him and he thought now it was for the best anyway. He owns a business, he can't be fighting with customers out in the middle of the shop. No matter who they are. He said he thought I could understand that. And I do. But he also said that it didn't mean he was any less angry about what they said and that he wasn't going to sit back and do nothing."

I nodded. "That's what he told me as well."

"He's had a rough few years, that boy," Tom sighed, staring off at the ceiling again. He lowered his gaze and met my eyes. "I witnessed some of it firsthand. How he missed the birth of his niece and fought with his brother over it. Here, mind you."

"I know," I whispered.

"He was drunk all the time. He was angry. If he was carefree and jovial and full of light before Percy died, he swung in the complete opposite direction afterwards. It was like night and day." He shook his head. "He'd get into nasty fights with his girlfriend. She was a wreck..." he let out a long, tired sounding puff of air. "I felt sorry for them both. But if that were you instead of her...if something else happened to send him back-"

"He's not going back," I said. "He's fought so hard not to and sometimes he still has to put up a fight. He doesn't want to go back to that either and he's come a long way. He's not that person anymore. Not completely."

Tom nodded. "I know. I can see that. He hasn't been so utterly wasted in quite a while. He's not angry anymore. He doesn't seem as heavy anymore. He had all that guilty weight hanging from him and it was dragging him downwards. It was drowning him." He frowned slightly. "I just-I realized just how serious you two were becoming and thought that maybe that if you two were becoming that tangled up in one another, his heavy past would drag you down too. And you were so weighed down already." He shook his head and chuckled dryly. "But you're not the same young woman that showed up here nine months ago either. You're seeming lighter yourself. Freer."

I smiled. "I owe a lot of it to Fred, believe it or not. But also to Rachel, Kayla and Allie. To the Weasleys. And most importantly, to you and Martha. You were the very first people to give me a chance. My own father left me when I was born. You have given me way more than he ever has. Food, shelter, clothes, a job. A chance. My father didn't even give me that. I'm sorry for implying that I didn't appreciate what you've done for me."

Tom nodded. "I'm sorry too. I know Fred's a good man who's been raised right. If he sets even one red hair on his head out of line, Molly would give him a good smack." He let out a curt breath of laughter and took a sip from his drink. "But after you two came back from Salem, things were very obviously different and when you came back from New York, they were even more different. You weren't the quiet, stoic, lonely girl who first came here and started working simply cleaning tables. You had suddenly blossomed in front of my eyes and you were suddenly dating someone and I suddenly cared that you were dating. I kept thinking about you getting your heart broken or Fred doing something to upset you or to take advantage of you and I didn't like it. And it felt so frivolous. I spent all that time worrying about your foster father, so you'd think handling you dating would be easy." He shook his head, took another sip of his drink and sighed. "It frightened me a little. Worrying about the danger you faced with your foster father was one thing-it involved your general safety as well as my safety and Martha's, and the safety of my business. But being concerned about your dating life was more personal. It was something I wouldn't care about if I didn't think of you as family. As a daughter." He swallowed. "At one point, I was venting to Martha about my concerns and I said what if he hurts her? What if he hurts our little girl?"

I inhaled sharply as I looked up at him. I was as shocked by his words as he seemed to be.

"The words just came out," he said. "I hadn't even realized it until after, when Martha was looking at me in shock and with tears in her eyes." He shook his head again and stared wistfully off at a point across the room. It was quiet except for the faint sound of the clock ticking in the living room. And finally, he spoke again. "Martha and I-we couldn't have children, you know."

"I didn't know that," I whispered. "I'm sorry."

"Martha wanted children, of course," Tom went on. "Badly. Desperately. She wanted to be a mother. I wanted it too-not just for her, but for me too. But knowing that it would make her happy made me want it more. We tried everything. We tried the natural way, of course. And then it seemed like we were constantly at St. Mungo's trying a few magical methods. But nothing worked. We considered adoption, but we also didn't have the money back then. And eventually we were unable to keep paying St. Mungo's as well." He swallowed thickly. "I kept promising her one day we'd be able to pay for it. We'd be able to adopt a child or fully pay for something at St. Mungo's. But one day we woke up and we were sixty years old. Too old for Martha to get pregnant naturally or otherwise. We thought we were too old to even take in an infant or young child, either. By the time the child would be graduating Hogwarts, we'd be in our seventies-old enough to be grandparents. Although, now I see it's a foolish thought. It wouldn't have mattered if it would have made Martha happy. I hated that I failed her. I felt that I was unable to give her the one thing she wanted. And she felt like a failure, too. She felt like she was broken."

I let out a quiet scoff. "I know the feeling."

"We never even found out if the inability to have children was due to her or me...and we never wanted to. It didn't seem to matter. We were both hurting regardless." He swallowed the last sip of his drink and rubbed a hand over his jaw. "And then one day, out of the blue, you showed up. Lonely, underfed, injured, orphaned. You needed parents just as much as Martha felt she needed a child. And one had finally fallen into her lap. All the feelings she'd had about wanting a child came rushing back. That's part of the reason why she fought so hard for you to stay. Just as much for her sake as for yours. She--we-could help you and you could help her. Us. It was a perfect match."

I closed my eyes and sighed as I fought back the lump in my throat. "And when I showed back up here with my biological mother, she still offered her a job and a place to stay."

Tom nodded. "She worried that you'd be leaving again, but she was ever so relieved when you assured her you'd be staying with us."

"I'm glad I stayed," I whispered. "I belong here."

"Yeah...I'd say you do," Tom whispered, lightly drumming his fingers against the table as he nodded his head slowly.

"I'm sorry about everything that happened with Martha," I whispered. "I had no idea."

"Ah, it's not your fault," Tom said with a heavy sigh. "If anything, you were a blessing."

I was quiet as I thought that over for a minute.

"Fred told me about that new invention he created," Tom said, looking over at me. "For your nightmares."

I smiled as I nodded my head. "Yeah, he worked really hard on it."

"Well, I'm sure it'll work if he had anything to do with it," Tom sighed. "I suppose your nightmares will be over for good now. That must be a relief."

I nodded. "It is..." A slow smile spread over my face as I looked at him. "But it doesn't mean you have to stop making me tea if you ever feel like it. You certainly make a great cup of tea."

Tom let out a quiet laugh and looked up at me. "Glad to hear you enjoy it." He stood up and discarded his now empty firewhiskey bottle before heading for the door. When he was level with my chair, he stopped to look down at me. "You'd best be getting off to bed," he said. "You're working at eleven tomorrow, yes? Don't want to be late."

I laughed as I nodded and stood up from my chair. "I'll be on time, don't worry."

Tom nodded and stared down at me almost awkwardly for a moment before reaching out and patting my shoulder. "Well...goodnight," he said.

I smiled and leaned up to hug him. He seemed surprised for a moment before returning the hug.

"Goodnight, Tom," I whispered, pulling away and heading down the hallway towards my room.