Chapter 3.
Are you sniffing the drinks?
As it turned out, they did not return home until early the next morning. The Ministry were hastily setting up Portkeys, but were running out of objects to charm, as everyone at the campsite wanted to return home as quickly as possible. After an hour of battling with three Ministry workers, Walter announced to the group that they would have to wait their turn. So with huffy sighs and a tired groan from Stan, Lara and her friends sat upon the grassy hill with stilted patience as Walter returned to their campsite to pack up the tent.
Lara fell asleep within the hour, her head on Stan's thigh and her legs tangled with Erin's. She was awoken only a short time later, the sky still black with the beginnings of grey and gold, by Omar tickling her ribs.
"We gotta go," he murmured sleepily, as he'd only just opened his eyes himself. "Portkey's ready."
He helped Lara to her feet and they stumbled forward to where the others were waiting. On the ground was what looked like muggle rubbish, possibly some sort of drinking container as it seemed to be slightly wet. While Lara tried to guess the material of the object (plaster? Plonker? Plastic...it definitely began with a 'p'), Amanda looked hesitant to touch it.
"Come on," sighed Erin, bending down to place her fingers on the plastic. "Let's get out of here."
Lara wholeheartedly agreed; all she wanted was a proper sleep, somewhere warm and with a comfy pillow that wasn't her friend's leg bone. Grabbing Omar's hand, she reached down to touch the water bottle along with the rest of the group. Just seconds after Amanda's hesitant finger made contact, Lara felt herself pulled into the air, swirling and swirling as if attached to a rogue bludger.
In her exhaustion and disorientation, Lara didn't quite stick the landing. She thumped onto the ground on her side, moaning in pain as she rolled onto her back. She heard similar sounds from her friends and brother as she sat up, staring out into the hills before her. A long, cobbled pathway led to a quiet street with six houses, all red-bricked and medium-sized. One of them—the second on the left—was Stan's house, where they'd grabbed a Portkey three days before. Stan had the coolest parents of anyone in the group, which meant sleepovers were usually held at the Thrustons' rather than anywhere else.
"My mum's going to go crazy," Stan grumbled as they headed down the pathway. "I hope she hasn't heard what happened yet…"
Stan's mother, however, must have already read the paper or heard about it through gossip. The small, dark-haired woman was sitting on the couch with a steaming mug of tea, staring at the fire with vacant eyes. The moment Stan pushed the front door open, she turned and let out a cry of relief.
"Stan!" she called out, sounding close to tears. "Oh, Stanley… I was so worried. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, mum," Stan mumbled as his mother kissed his cheeks fiercely. "Mum, please."
"Oh, hush. I was worried." She pulled away and glanced behind him. "Oh, you're all here. I'm so glad, so glad…"
She proceeded to make her way around the group, kissing cheeks and hugging tightly. Lara pandered to her worrying gracefully; she'd always liked Mrs Thruston. She was a typical mum with her various aprons, warm hugs, and Sunday dinners, but she also took no crap from anyone. She and her husband owned an apothecary in Diagon Alley and had brought up three boys alongside it. She had not only allowed but encouraged their children to indulge in whatever hobbies they chose, be they wizarding or Muggle. Her eldest son, Cassius, now lived in France as an artist and photographer, her second son, Orsino, was the famed drummer of the Weird Sisters, and Stan wanted to be a potioneer.
Eventually, Mrs Thruston led the group to the fireplace. One by one they left, waving goodbye and yawning widely—minus Erin, who planned to stay behind and catch a train the next day. Lara was the last one to go, stepping into the fire after Walter had disappeared and promising Mrs Thruston she would look after herself (and Walter) before Flooing home.
She landed in her living room and almost slammed into the oak coffee table. Coughing and spluttering, Lara only just had time to gather her bearings before her mam pulled her into a hug.
"I can't believe it," Pamela murmured into Lara's hair. "I just can't believe it. How could this happen at a Quidditch match?"
"It wasn't just a match, ma. It was the World Cup," Lara replied, her voice muffled by her mam's shoulder. "It was the event of the year."
"The decade," Walter corrected easily. "There were thousands of people. There's no better place to make a statement."
"I just don't see how those hooligans managed to get in. The whole Ministry was there to protect the public." Pamela gave a huff and let go of her daughter. "Honestly, they put millions into it. And yet people still managed to do… do that. It makes me wonder where the money actually goes."
Walter and Lara exchanged a silent look. Then, after a moment's pause, Walter said, "Mam… you do realise those hooligans were Death Eaters, right?"
"They weren't real Death Eaters." Pamela waved her hand blithely. "They were just people in costumes. The Bulgarians, no doubt. People take Quidditch far too seriously these days."
Walter looked at Lara again, who shrugged. Their mam had always been rather… indifferent towards big subjects such as politics and international affairs. Pamela preferred the simple life of gossiping with neighbours and going out for brunch with friends. It annoyed the hell out of Walter—who was adamant another war was on the horizon—but to Lara, it was just her mam's way of coping. And, anyway, Pamela wasn't the only one to think this; even Erin was still convinced the Bulgarians had just gotten carried away.
"Where's dad?" Lara asked instead, changing the subject completely.
"He got called into work to clean up this mess," Pamela said as she headed towards the kitchen. "He has to do some serious damage control for the Ministry."
Homer Culpepper was a writer and editor for The Daily Prophet in the politics feature. While Pamela preferred to be blissfully ignorant, Homer wanted to know the ins and outs of a fart, as Walter liked to say. Their differing personalities had always confused Lara, who wondered what her parents talked about when they were alone, but it worked. They'd been married for over twenty-two years. As Pamela had once said, opposites attract—which Walter later interpreted in his own words to tell Lara, "They like hearing themselves speak. So they talk for hours about their own things, pretending to listen to each other, and at the end of the day they feel like they've accomplished something."
Her brother and parents had a complicated relationship.
After a cup of tea and some toast, Lara headed up to her bedroom, collapsing into her warm bed and slipping under the covers. She was asleep within minutes, desperately trying not to think about silver masks and small, contorting figures being hoisted into the air.
It rained for days after the Quidditch Cup. Lara found herself spending a lot of time staring out of her bedroom window, admiring the grassy plains of the Durham countryside and feeling quite sorry for the grazing sheep.
For a while she thought it was just the typical northeastern weather, as her neck of the woods always had bad conditions compared to her southern friends. However, four days into the mini-hurricane, she received a letter from Amanda that simply said: "Why is the weather so SHIT?" Amanda lived in Cambridge with her pure-blood parents and little brother. When it was raining there, it had to be bad everywhere.
Lara floated around her house, mostly reading, sometimes annoying Walter when he was home. She was so bored by Friday that she went in to work with Walter, who was babysitting some young Nifflers for the day. She spent eight hours running after the tiny blights, who desperately wanted to escape their pen to steal shiny things from Ministry workers. Lara distracted them with tinfoil—an ingenious plan if there ever was one, according to a co-worker of Walter's—but they still tried to get away every now and then.
By the time she got home, she was tired, her hair was a mess, and she smelt like baby Nifflers. Collapsing onto the couch, she let her head fall back onto the cushions and closed her eyes. She was there for barely three seconds before something pecked her arm.
It was her brown owl, Fudge, with a small letter in his beak. As she opened and read it, he perched upon her shoulder and nuzzled into her hair.
LARA
GET YOUR ARSE TO MY HOUSE! THE SUN'S COME OUT AND WE'RE CELEBRATING!
GET A MOVE ON
Stan
Sighing, Lara placed the letter onto the coffee table and moved to pet Fudge. All she wanted to do was curl up in bed with a book and fall asleep early, but she'd been dying to see her friends for days now. They'd planned to spend a whole week at the campsite, turning up a few days ahead of the match and leaving late, just to have a mini-holiday before they went back to school.
"It's our last year," Erin had pleaded with her parents. (Earlier that day, her mum had seen a moving picture in Erin's bedroom and almost fainted. Erin knew her parents were trying, but it was hard sometimes and she just wanted to get away with people that got it.) "When will we ever get the chance again?"
Eventually, they'd all agreed and gotten permission—even Amanda, who had balked at the idea of spending seven days in a tent. But obviously, the whole thing had been a bit of a disaster, starting with Walter being kidnapped and ending with a Death Eater attack.
Lara wanted to end her final summer holiday on a good note, laughing and joking with her best mates. They would be going back to school in two days, so there wouldn't be another opportunity for them to meet. With a groan of begrudging acceptance, Lara placed Fudge onto his perch and went upstairs to shower and get ready.
Forty minutes later, her hair long and straight (and still slightly wet), a dash of make-up on her freckled face, and clad in a floral wrap dress, Lara Flooed to the Thrustons' place. The moment she stepped into the living room, Mrs Thruston ushered her into the back garden, where Lara found teenagers milling around, chatting animatedly and enjoying drinks. Lara smiled at some people she recognised and headed further into the garden, looking for her friends.
"There you are!" The familiar voice of Erin screamed over the loud music, which came from a wireless radio set up near the back door. "We've been here for hours—where the hell have you been?"
Lara's friends were sitting on garden chairs in the corner of the yard. The chairs were set up in a large circle around a green wooden table, which was now covered with bottles and cups. Erin and Amanda were sharing one chair, their thighs pushed together as Erin perched dangerously on the edge of the seat. On their right side were Stan and Omar, both involved in a serious conversation with a group of boys about the state of wizarding Britain's joke merchandise.
"I went to work with Walter," answered Lara as she walked over to them. "Looked after some baby Nifflers. Then I had to shower and change."
"Erin thought you were ignoring us," Amanda teased, grinning. "I thought you were sick of seeing Stan and Omar's ugly faces."
"Aw, I'd never get sick of them."
"See, Mandy?" Stan stopped his conversation to stick his tongue out at the Ravenclaw. "Lara's not as mean as you are."
Amanda simply rolled her eyes.
Taking an empty seat from the circle, Lara dragged it closer to her friends and sat down, her eyes briefly scanning the crowd. She could see pretty much every seventh year she could think of, which wasn't unusual, but she could also see some sixth years. Sitting on the opposite side of the circle were Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Lee Jordan. As she watched the three of them converse, two other figures joined, passing out bottles to their friends. Fred and George Weasley were here, too. One of them sat on the ground beside Lee and the other made a show of sitting on Alicia's knee until she relented and switched positions with him.
"What are the sixth years doing here?" Lara blurted out before she could stop herself.
Erin and Amanda, who were talking about the upcoming N.E.W.T.s, turned to their friend inquisitively. "Stan invited them," Amanda replied after a moment's pause. "He's invited everyone that went to the World Cup, I think."
"He said he wants to end the summer on a good note after what happened. Even Oliver was here earlier," Erin continued. "Why? Do you mind them being here?"
"Of course not," Lara said, tearing her eyes away from the group of sixth years. "I just wondered, that's all. I've never known them to come to something like this."
Amanda hummed softly. "I think everyone feels the same way as Stan. They want a good memory before school starts, you know?"
Lara nodded understandingly; that was the whole reason she'd come. She wanted to forget what had happened at the World Cup entirely, if she could.
She looked back to the sixth years and her eyes caught sight of someone else. Standing behind them with a bottle of beer was David Brentford with his own friends, a smirk on his adorable face as he recited a story. He was a seventh-year Hufflepuff and had the most amazing blue eyes Lara had ever seen. As if feeling someone watching him, David glanced over and he grinned at Lara in hello.
Suddenly feeling flushed, Lara smiled back and turned back to her friends… who were watching her amusedly.
"What?" Lara demanded self-consciously.
"You still fancy David Brentford?" Amanda sighed, shaking her head in mock disappointment. "I thought you'd be over that by now."
"She hasn't snogged him yet, so she can't get it out of her mind," said Erin, her tone one of wise intelligence (in her mind, at least). "Why don't you go over and snog him now? Everyone snogs at parties."
"I can't just go over and assault him," Lara snapped. "Plus, he's really hot, and it's intimidating."
"No, you just think he is."
"Everyone has a type," Erin reprimanded Amanda, who looked nonplussed by Lara's choice in men. "And not everyone's type is Charlie bloody Weasley."
A satisfied grin crept onto Amanda's face. "Now that's a man worth fancying."
"Charlie's like a cousin to me or something." Lara shuddered slightly at the thought of liking the ginger-haired dragon tamer. "He's come 'round my house since I was seven."
"Lucky bitch," Amanda muttered, nearly inaudible as Erin spoke over her.
"But David is a delicious stud muffin who Lara would like to eat," she chirped, turning to Amanda as Lara snorted. "I think we could get them together."
"How?"
"There's so many possibilities—get them drunk tonight, force them in a broom cupboard back at Hogwarts, throw Lara into the lake and get David to recuse her…"
"While you two talk about my attempted murder," Lara said, standing as Amanda looked more excited than she should about the possibility of Lara drowning, "I'll get more drinks."
The two girls pretty much ignored her. Lara headed over to the table, where Stan had put rows of cups with Refilling Charms on them. Picking them up one by one, Lara sniffed the contents, intent on finding a butterbeer.
"Are you sniffing the drinks?"
Lara gasped and jerked, almost spilling what smelt like firewhiskey down her dress. She turned to see one of the Weasley twins standing just behind her, his eyebrows raised in unbidden amusement.
"Er… yes?" Lara replied unsurely. "I want a butterbeer—I don't really like spirits."
"But how do you get drunk?"
"Very expensively."
The boy grinned widely. Placing the cup back onto the table, Lara stared at him, trying to figure out which one of twins he was. Were there any physical differences between them? A wayward freckle? A mole? A slight variation in build? Even if there were, she still wouldn't be able to figure out who this was. She didn't know either of the twins well enough to compare one to the other.
He smirked at her, as if knowing exactly what was going through her mind. After over sixteen years of being an identical twin, Lara was sure he was used to it.
"Well, I'd like a firewhiskey, if you don't mind." He motioned towards the table.
Lara moved off to the side. Grabbing a cup, the twin took a long swig and nodded appreciatively. She expected him to go right back to his friends and brother, but instead he stayed, looking back at Lara with a smile.
"I'm Fred," he said, brown eyes sparkling with mirth. "If you were wondering."
Lara saw through that. What he meant was: I could tell you were studying me to see which twin I was. Here's the answer, you weirdo.
"I was," she decided to say, because her mother had always told her never to lie. "Is there any differences between you two?"
"Dunno. Mum says we even have the same freckles."
Her eyes swept over his skin, but she realised it was useless. She couldn't recall George's freckles well enough to compare them to Fred's.
"I'll take your word for it," she smirked.
Fred put his hand to his heart. "No one ever takes my word for anything."
"Hardly surprising, Weasley, given your track record."
"Whatever do you mean?"
Lara gave him a flat look. "I vividly remember you offering me a sweet in my fourth year."
"How kind of me—"
"And I spent the rest of the day with a terrible bout of hiccoughs."
Fred could barely contain a snort.
"An orange sweet, I think you said, in all your third-year innocence," Lara continued wistfully. "And I loved orange sweets, Weasley. Instead, I ended up with a bruised diaphragm and a detention from Snape for 'disrupting the lesson.'"
This time, laughter bubbled from Fred's lips. "Ah, my bad, Culpepper. Can I offer you a Ton-Tongue Toffee as an apology?"
"I'm never taking a sweet from you again," Lara replied, and then eyed the redheaded boy suspiciously. "What's a Ton-Tongue Toffee?"
"They make a person's tongue swell to at least four feet long." Fred dug into his pocket and held out a bunch of rainbow-coloured sweets. "Wanna try?"
"Absolutely not."
"Are you sure? George says the experience can be quite enlightening."
"George?"
"He tried these and I tried the Canary Creams."
"Canary Creams?"
"For a later date." Fred winked and pocketed the rainbow sweets once again.
"So… you and George are making your own joke stuff now?"
"Of course we are," he said simply.
"That's…" Lara thought for a moment, shaking her head in disbelief. "That's bloody brilliant, Weasley."
A bright smile crossed Fred's face and then he bowed deeply, holding out his hands and everything. A few people glanced over at them as Lara tried to make him straighten.
"Weasley—Weasley! Stand up—What are you doing—"
"That was me thanking you," he laughed happily as he came to a stand again, towering over Lara's 5'3" frame. "I don't think we've been described as brilliant yet. Crazy, reckless, and stupid, yes. But brilliant is a new one."
"Well, you're those other three things, too," Lara smirked, letting go of his wrists. "But mostly brilliant."
"I'll make sure to give you a Canary Cream, just for that."
"I'm not sure I want one."
Fred sniggered and grabbed his cup from the table. He looked like he was about to say something else, but Erin ran up beside Lara, grabbing her arm. "We're talking to Dave and his friends," Erin breamed. "Sorry, Weasley. I'm gonna have to steal her."
"Have fun." Fred raised his cup their way as Lara was dragged backwards.
"You know Lara, of course," Erin said brightly, her arm around Lara's shoulders. "Lara, you know Dave, Elliot, and Simon."
Lara licked her lips nervously as the three boys smiled at her. Folding her arms over her chest, Lara threw Erin a glare as the group began to talk about going back to school. Erin and Amanda might've thought it was a great idea to get Dave and Lara near each other, but what they didn't know was that Lara was an utter mess around him. She could barely look him in the eye without blushing, and talking to him she became a stuttering, awkward disaster.
"Have more alcohol," Amanda whispered twenty minutes later, during which Lara had only spoken five words. "It'll loosen you up."
So Lara did. She had two more butterbeers, followed by two firewhiskeys, a rum and Coke, and a shot of something called "vodka." Unfortunately for Erin and Amanda's plan, Lara quickly reached the stage where she wanted to dance and so went in search of Stan, her designated boogying partner. She found him sitting with the Gryffindor sixth years, throwing his arms around as he talked about Quidditch with them.
"Stan!" Lara beamed, coming up beside her friend. "Dance with me."
"How much have you drank?"
"Enough to want to dance," Lara replied easily, "but not enough to want to sleep. Dance with me!"
Stan threw an apologetic look towards his companions as Lara dragged him to the middle of the garden, where people had been congregating throughout the night. Omar was already there, dancing with a pretty brunette, and he waved brightly at Stan and Lara. As he always did, Stan spun Lara around twice before they began to move to the beat. That was why he was her favourite dance partner out of all her friends; they started off with a good laugh together.
Lara wasn't sure how long they danced for, but eventually Erin and Amanda joined, along with the rest of the party-goers. When Stan got dragged away by a cute blonde, Lara went to her girlfriends, placing an arm around Amanda's waist and squeezing.
"So take your hands off me, tonight I'm breaking free! This is the night, this is the night!" Amanda crooned along to the music joyfully, wrapping her arms around Lara's back as they moved.
After a moment, Lara felt someone poke her in the hip and she turned, coming face-to-face with one of the twins. (She was pretty sure it must be Fred, but there was honestly no way of being certain.)
"Where's your dance partner?" Fred asked, having to lean in close to be heard.
"He got pulled away by a girl," giggled Lara, glancing about the throng of people; she couldn't see Stan anywhere. "At least one of us deserves to be snogged tonight, so…"
"Shouldn't you be snogging David Brentford?"
Lara's eyes widened and she shook her head. "What are you—"
"It was so obvious," Fred grinned, amused. "I could see you blushing from where I was stood."
Lara felt her whole body heat up at the thought. Merlin, had David noticed her incessant crush on him? He probably thought she was some silly school girl!
The music suddenly turned slow and melodic, and groups of friends broke off into pairs. Erin and Amanda grasped each other and began to sway, their expressions ones of drunken joy. Lara glanced around confusedly, her mind still on David and her stupidity, when Fred offered his hand to her. Without really giving it much thought, Lara took it, allowing herself to be brought against Fred's chest.
"I don't think Dave noticed," Fred smirked, his face inches from hers, one hand on her waist and the other grasping her fingers. "He's good-looking, but he's dumb as rocks, bless him."
"He is not," Lara shot back, throwing Fred a quick glare. "He's really sweet, actually. He comforted me when my grandma died in our fourth year."
"Sweet as chocolate, I'm sure. But ask him to change a badger into a goblet…"
"Badgers are a tricky animal."
"Wow, you've got it bad."
Lara's blush deepened. She felt stupid because she really liked Dave, despite the fact that they'd had only a handful of conversations in her whole life. Most of them were trivial, about the weather, school, or Quidditch, but back in fourth year, she'd received a letter from her mum to say that her grandmother had died after a short battle with Dragon-pox and David had been the only person she knew in the Great Hall at that moment. As she broke down into sobs, he'd rushed over to comfort her. She'd liked him ever since.
"Is his arse as good as Krum's?"
The question shocked Lara out of her daze. Looking up to Fred's smiling face, she scoffed. "No one can out-arse Krum."
"You look disgusted by the suggestion."
"Because Krum's arse looks like a peach."
"And what is it about Brentford that's so fascinating?"
"We're not at a sleepover, Weasley," smirked Lara, her tense shoulders relaxing slightly. "We're not about to swap stories of our crushes."
"Why not? I'll openly admit I think Vicky Frobisher has nice eyes."
"That's rather sweet—"
"And she has the hottest legs I've ever seen. Honestly, I didn't think legs could be attractive until she came along. A blessing in Potions, they are."
"You're a Neanderthal."
"I think I liked you better when you didn't know if I was Fred or George."
"Aw, Freddy," Lara cooed, then paused dramatically. "You are Fred, right?"
"Shut up," he snorted, then glanced over her shoulder at something, a smirk coming to his face. "Okay, so, if I do something, do you promise not to hit me?"
"Hit you?"
Fred didn't respond, only slipped his hand around to Lara's back and gently pulled her towards him. Lara knew what was going to happen before it did, but only managed a slight gasp of surprise before Fred Weasley kissed her.
Well, this wasn't how she expected the night to go.
He lingered for a few seconds, then pulled back with a grin and glanced over her shoulder again. An amused smile still on his face, he leaned down to Lara's ear and whispered, "Brentford is looking this way and he doesn't look happy."
Lara was still shocked and confused about Fred's kiss, but she peered behind her anyway. Sure enough, David was standing with his two friends, leaning against the fence and watching Fred and Lara with a slight scowl on his face. Lara's heart leapt into her throat; was he jealous?
"Maybe your crush isn't totally unfounded," Fred murmured brightly.
Lara's eyes slid to the redheaded boy still holding her. "You kissed me."
"I did."
"Why?"
"Made him jealous, didn't it?" He shrugged. "Boys are simple creatures, Culpepper. We want what we can't have."
"So if I snogged you now, he'd get even more jealous and realise he fancies me?"
"Well… I feel like that's an oversimplification of the point, but I suppose—mmphf!"
Fred never got to finish his sentence. Reaching for the back of his head, Lara brought his lips down again to meet hers. Looking back on this day in the years to come, not to mention tomorrow when she sobered up, Lara would realise that this was a bad idea. However, in her alcohol- and hormone-infused state, she didn't, at this time, care.
After he got over the shock—which didn't take long; Fred Weasley was always expecting the unexpected—he turned out to be a pretty decent snog. In fact, he was more than decent. Lara was pleasantly surprised as he tangled his fingers into her hair and squeezed her waist with his arm, bringing them even closer together. His lips were gentle and attentive. And when he gently nibbled on her lower lip, her toes curled in her sandals.
Lara pulled back, gulping thickly as she fought to catch her breath. "Now he'll be really jealous," she panted.
Fred grinned back, his lips swollen but his expression one of simple amusement. Then, with a quick arch of his arm, he was spinning her around, blond hair flying everywhere, her skirt fluttering around her thighs, and for the first time, Lara realised that, yes, Fred Weasley really did have a nice smile.
Apologies for the late chapter, I went on a surprise holiday and then there was a virus going around on the site so I decided to lay low for a bit. Anyway! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! It's one of my favourites :)