Swear warning.

...

Chapter 15.

Mrs Weasley doesn't swear

April.

The twins didn't take revenge on David for over a week. Every day, Lara woke up expecting to find him bright purple or throwing up slugs in the middle of the Great Hall, but he was fine. He walked around with a smirk on his face, glaring at Stan and whispering about Lara with his friends. Sometimes, when she looked up and caught his eye, he'd make a big show of pointing at her and laughing while nudging the person beside him. One time, he gave her the finger.

Erin thought it was utterly childish. Stan offered to break his nose again.

But Fred and George had the worst reaction; as in, they barely did anything at all. They ignored him and rolled their eyes sometimes. When he gave her the finger, George gave him two back. Apart from that, they didn't do much at all.

It was unnerving. Lara was pretty sure they were planning something, though they never shared what it was, and when she asked they'd just tap their noses and shake their heads. Angelina started to wonder if they'd finally grown up and matured. After a few days, Alicia began to say it, too. In fact, on the first day back at school during breakfast, she was sat talking about how proud she was of them.

"I think they're starting to listen to their mother," she said, digging her knife into a raspberry jam jar. "I actually feel like sending her a letter—hey Mrs Weasley, your boys have grown up, can you believe it?"

"She'll faint on the spot," chuckled Angelina. "Or send a letter back saying bullshit."

"Mrs Weasley doesn't swear."

Erin snorted into her pumpkin juice. "All mums swear behind closed doors—or when they're angry."

"My mum just swears anyway," Stan grinned. "Calls me a little shit all the time."

"Don't blame her," Lara teased. "I would, too."

"Where are Fred and George, anyway?" Amanda asked, glancing down the table. "I feel like they've been extremely quiet lately."

"I haven't seen them since Saturday," Omar replied suspiciously. "Has anyone else saw them…?"

The group glanced at each other. Several shrugged; Erin's lips pursed. The sinking feeling Lara had had in her stomach all week returned. She knew they were up to something. Their quietness and sneaking around was just proof of that. It seemed like Angelina and Alicia were starting to see this, as the former put her head into her hands and the latter handled her knife a little too enthusiastically.

Fifteen minutes later, the seventh years headed to Transfiguration. Lara sat at her usual table with Erin, in front of Omar and Stan with Amanda to the right with another Ravenclaw girl, when David entered the room with his friends. Unlike the previous days, he didn't spare a look towards Stan or Lara. He kept his head down and walked straight to a table, his head in his hands.

Erin, who was half-turned towards Omar and Stan, inclined her head to Lara. "What's up with Dreary?"

"I dunno," whispered Lara, determinedly scribbling on her paper. "I try not to look at him."

"Since when did he wear a beanie?"

"I don't know—"

"Good morning seventh years," McGonagall swept into the room, her navy robes billowing across the floor. "I hope you all had a relaxing Easter."

There were murmurs of agreement and a few people snorted incredulously (for they'd gotten far too much homework to really enjoy the holiday).

"Now you've had a break, however, I expect you all to be on top academic form. N.E.W.T.S. start in a mere six weeks. Your Transfiguration exam is in two months' time, and you know I have high expectations for each and every one of you, as, I'm sure, do your other Professors. Now, today we're going to—Mr Brentford, I do not permit hats in my classroom," McGonagall set her stoic eyes onto David, her right eyebrow raising.

"I…it's a bit chilly, Professor—"

"Mr Brentford," McGonagall replied evenly. "It is not one rule for you, another rule for everyone else. Kindly remove the hat."

David gulped and stared up at the Professor with wide-eyes, almost as if he expected her to change her mind. When she simply blinked, he slowly reached up and grabbed his dark brown beanie, tugging it off his head.

The students gasped; a few girls let out squeaks. One of David's friends let out a nervous laugh and smacked his hand to his mouth. David flushed under the scrutiny and ducked his head, reaching up to cover his forehead with his hand.

For, on the skin there in large, black, bold letters, was the word 'SLUT'.

"Oh my God," Erin murmured, sounding thoroughly amused. "I knew those boys weren't done with their pranks."

"This isn't a prank," grinned Stan. "This is sweet, sweet revenge."

Omar hummed and licked his lips. "Revenge tastes like caramel."

"Mr Brentford," McGonagall said sharply. "What happened?"

"I don't know, Professor," he responded quietly. "I woke up this-morning and it won't come off. I've tried everything."

"But why—"

"Because he's using the word when he shouldn't—"

"Stan." Lara hissed, whipping around in her seat to grab his arm. "No, don't."

Stan nodded, although he looked disgruntled, and turned back towards the Professor. McGonagall was staring at them, her eyes narrowed in deep thought, and she glanced from Stan to Lara to David, then back again.

"Very well," the Professor said. "Let's continue with the lesson."

"But—Professor, can't you remove it—"

"No." She answered David's plea, already walking away and not looking back. "Now, today we're working on the Conjuring Spell…"

Erin turned towards the front, a shit-eating grin on her face. Peering at Lara from the corner of her eyes, she said, "God bless McGonagall."

Lara smirked into her hand.

At the end of the lesson, David pulled his beanie back on. However, thanks to the seventh year Transfiguration class, the whole school knew about his new ink by lunch time. Most people talked about it behind his back, but a few were more overt, and all of them were either Gryffindor's or Slytherin's. Gryffindor's asked to see it; Slytherin's made rude hand gestures and pointed.

Lara actually felt a little sorry for the guy. The story of why the word was on his forehead had spread across the school (Lara suspected Angelina, maybe Amanda), and nobody was happy. Several girls had confronted him in anger, demanding to know why he thought it was okay for him to demean girls that way. Boys just thought he was a stupid bastard.

"He's an idiot," Lara overheard some Ravenclaw boys say. "You never let a girl hear you say that. He's never going to get laid now."

"But isn't that the point?" another said with a smirk. "He doesn't get laid—that's why he used it in the first place. Bitter he can't get any and the girls can."

After eavesdropping on this conversation, Stan laughed for a good ten minutes.

"Ravenclaws," he said, wiping tears from his eyes. "They're great sometimes."

Lara sighed as they entered the Great Hall. Looking around, she couldn't spot David anywhere, but she could see two identical ginger heads at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by laughing friends.

"What did you two do?" Lara said, slamming her things down onto the table. "The poor guy is being tortured!"

"Poor guy," Alicia repeated disbelievingly. "He called you a slut!"

"It was said out of anger—"

"Even so," Angelina shrugged. "It's not okay. It's not his place to say shit like that."

"It's not anyone's place," said Erin.

"Plus, he needs to learn it's a bad word," George said and took another bite of food, grinning towards Lara unconcernedly.

Fred nodded. "Exactly. He should count himself lucky we didn't wash his mouth out with soap."

"You lot are crazy," Lara said, reaching for some chicken legs. "How long will the ink last?"

"Only a day," answered Lee.

"It's just to teach him a lesson," Fred continued nonchalantly. "I think we can be assured he won't say it again."

"I don't think he'd dare," smirked Amanda, and the group of friends smiled in silent agreement.

Lara shook her head and took a bite of her chicken leg; she joked about it sometimes, but…she was beginning to wonder if her friends really were evil geniuses.

...

Tapping her fingers rhythmically against the arm of her chair, Lara glanced around the small room. She hadn't been to McGonagall's office for years, not since her grandmother died and she was called here for a pep talk from her Head of House. Despite three years having passed, it looked much the same; a large stone fireplace took up much of the back wall, two chairs sat in front of the crackling fire, and bookcases were dotted around the room, filled to the brim with hardcovers and old looking scrolls. In the corner, a closed door led to a bedroom.

"Right, Culpepper," McGonagall suddenly spoke, knocking Lara out of her daze. "According to your fifth year career's interview, you were interested in being a Magizoologist. Is that still correct?"

"Yes, Professor," Lara nodded quickly. "My brother said I can be his assistant as soon as I graduate. It'll take me two years to qualify, then I'll work my way up the ranks. Walter and I have always talked about running the Beast Division together."

McGonagall's lips ghosted into the hint of a smile. "I'm sure you'll do a fine job together," she said, then peered at Lara over her glasses. "However, I have to say Miss Culpepper, with your grades, you could stretch your ambitions much further."

"I'm sorry, Professor?"

"You're on track for O's and E's in all of your lessons, including Transfiguration now you've improved your writing technique," McGonagall swiftly flipped through some files. "I feel obliged to say that you could do almost anything—including, may I say, an Auror."

For a moment, Lara was too stunned to reply. "An Auror?" she spluttered, sitting straight in her chair. "I've never—I mean, don't you have to be really smart to do that—"

"You need five N.E.W.T.S. and at least two of them need to be at an 'Outstanding' level. I'm fairly confident you'll achieve that in Alchemy and Care of Magical Creatures."

"I don't take Potions—"

"Subjects are recommended, not required. Alchemy is a satisfactory substitution for Potions…though Professor Snape may disagree."

"Holy—mushrooms," Lara said and then cringed sheepishly. "Sorry, but, eh…I've never really thought about it. I've always wanted to work with animals."

"Of course, if working with animals is truly what you want, I encourage you to do that," McGonagall said. "But I felt compelled to inform you of all your options."

"Thanks, Professor," Lara grinned slightly. "It's given me something to think about…and I appreciate that you have this much confidence in me."

"I want all of my students to achieve their highest capabilities," McGonagall stopped writing on her scroll for a moment and looked up, piercing Lara with a stare. "For what it's worth, I think you'd make a fantastic Auror, Culpepper. And Professor Flitwick is inclined to agree with me," her lips twitched slightly before she looked back down at her paper. "You're dismissed. Can you send Miss Dawn in, please?"

Lara nodded and got to her feet, walking out of the room on slightly shaky legs. Once Alexa had rushed off into the office, slamming the door behind her, Lara headed towards the common room, lost in thought.

All her life, she'd wanted to work with animals. Her maternal grandparents had had a crup, Goober, and he'd been Lara's best friend growing up, especially when Walter went off to Hogwarts. She remembered laying with him in front of the fire, stroking his soft head, giggling away as he tried to lick her palm. He'd made her so happy that she wanted to feel like that forever, so working with animals was the only thing that made sense.

Goober died from old age when she was eleven, two months before Lara was due to start Hogwarts. Walter had comforted her by promising she would have loads of fun at school, especially in Care of Magical Creatures, where she got to look after loads of amazing creatures, ones she'd never even heard of before. He was right, of course; Care of Magical Creatures had always been her favourite lesson and still was to this day. Plus, she was good at it. She'd achieved an 'O' in O.W.L.S. and was on track to get the same in her N.E.W.T.S.—so wasn't becoming a Magizoologist just a natural progression?

But she'd never given becoming an Auror a thought. It always seemed out of reach, too dangerous, too high-class for Lara to even consider as a career. It was what other people did. Brave, reckless, intelligent people, all of which Lara wasn't…or was she? McGonagall seemed to think so, and apparently so did Flitwick. If two of her Professors thought she was good enough, did that mean she should go for it?

Then again, was it smart to put her whole future into uncertainty because of the opinions of two people? She had what most people didn't; a job waiting for her after graduation, where she could work her way up the ranks quite fast. Plus, she and Walter would work together, and after years of being separated by Hogwarts, it would be great to spend time with him…

"Girl, I asked for the password."

Lara looked up and blinked at The Fat Lady, who was glaring down at her. "Oh, sorry. Phoenix feather."

The portrait swung open and Lara stepped through. All the seventh years were waiting in the Entrance Hall for their career's advice interview, so Lara didn't expect them to be around. However, the sixth years were also gone. All except Fred, who was laid on the couch with his arm thrown across his eyes, his face peaceful and breathing deeply.

Lara smiled and conjured up a blanket, throwing it across him, marvelling at his angelic appearance. However, the second the material touched his skin, he shot up into sitting potion. "Holy shit," he hissed, grappling with the blanket.

"Sorry, sorry!" squeaked Lara, holding out her hands. "I was just covering you up!"

"Growing up with George, you learn to be alert even in your sleep," he laughed, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. "Sorry I nearly gave you a heart attack."

Lara chuckled and exhaled sharply. "That's alright. My fault. I was just trying to be thoughtful."

"That's what you get for being nice."

"Shut up," she reached out to push his forehead as he sniggered. "Next time I'll let you freeze."

"How'd your career thing go?"

"It was…interesting."

"Ambiguous." Fred grinned, pushing himself up and patting the seat in front of her. "Tell me."

"So, I've always wanted to work with animals, specifically the Beast Division in the Ministry with Walter," Lara collapsed into the seat, dropping her backpack onto the ground. "I've never thought about doing anything else, but…with my grades, McGonagall said I could be anything. She more than hinted that I should look into becoming an Auror."

"An Auror?"

"Yeah, that was my reaction, too," Lara grinned, resting her head against the back cushions. "I mean, I'm not Auror material. How can she know Moody and still think that someone like me could be an Auror?"

"Maybe she sees a resemblance—kidding, kidding," he laughed as Lara reached over to thump his arm. "She obviously sees something in you. She usually spends these career's interviews telling people they need to shape up, not encouraging people to be more than they're setting out to be."

"What did she say to you last year?"

"That I'm an idiot who needs to grow up," he smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. "But she used fancy words and metaphors about someone called Peter Pan—anyway, maybe you should give the Auror thing some thought."

"You know me pretty well, right?"

"I'm big-headed enough to assume so, yes."

"Do you think I should be an Auror? Forgetting grades or whatever—just me as a person."

Fred eyed her for a moment, that usual mischievous glint in his brown pupils. Then he reached over, grabbed her hand and said, "Lara, if I was murdered next week, there's no one else I'd rather investigate my demise than you."

"Not even George? Lee? Angelina?"

"They'd mess it up somehow."

"Harry?"

"You can talk it over with him, but you should be the lead."

"He fought a dragon."

"You wore heels to a dance," replied Fred without hesitation. "There's nothing more reckless and brave than that."

Lara giggled and shook her head. "You're a weirdo, Weasley."

"I'm serious." He awkwardly lifted their joint hands and flopped them back onto the couch. "You'll be great at whatever you wanna do, Culpepper. Auror, Magizoologist, Shop Keeper, Potioneer…whatever."

"That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me," she grinned, fluttering her eyelashes. "And I can't wait to see your shop."

Fred grinned and suddenly looked down at her hand, his thumb reaching to brush over her middle finger. "You're still wearing the ring?" he murmured.

"I told you I'm never taking it off," Lara replied. "Undying love and all that."

"Don't start singing again."

"Don't be so rude," she smirked. "Now David and I didn't work out, that was the highlight of my night. Don't taint it."

Fred hummed uneasily. "Oh, yeah…George told me about the date…the pure-blood thing. He only told me after you called it off, though."

"I'm surprised he didn't tell you straight away, to be honest," grinned Lara. "I know it wasn't a big deal, but I couldn't get it out of my head."

"Well, I suppose it depends on how you look at it. Some people might think he was just curious, but other people—the smart people, like me and you—realise that he's as crazy as a box of frogs and he needs to be avoided like Snape avoids shampoo."

"Fred!"

"What? It's true," he smirked, and then he got a very smug look on his face. "So I was your favourite part of the whole ball?"

You're my favourite part of the whole year, Lara suddenly thought, shocking herself so much she blurted out, "Angelina."

"Eh…what about her?"

"Well…she must have been your favourite part, right? She looked beautiful in her dress…"

"She did," nodded Fred. "But we just went as friends."

"Friends?"

"Don't sound so disbelieving."

"Disappointed, more than anything. Not even a cheeky snog or—"

"Nothing." He said instantly, though his face was still amused. "She, eh…she actually likes someone else. I found her crying about it one night, so I said I'd make a big deal of asking her out in front of everyone with the hope of making him jealous…I figured it worked for you and Brentford."

"Oh." Lara couldn't explain the weightlessness she felt at that moment, or the warmth in her chest. "I…I hope her crush turns out better than mine did."

"Well, I know the guy pretty well," Fred smirked. "And I'm almost one hundred percent sure that he's not a pure-blood fanatic. Unless he's just a really good actor, but that's giving him more credit than he deserves…"

Several things clicked into place at once; the conversation with Angelina at the dress shop, her disappearance at the Three Broomsticks soon after, her extreme fussing at the Yule Ball, her and Fred's purely platonic relationship…

"She fancies George," Lara whispered wondrously. "George."

Fred didn't reply, but the little smile on his face was more than enough to give Lara her answer.

"Holy shit," Lara breathed and let out an incredulous laugh. "I thought it was Lee she was talking about…and I just assumed she'd gotten over Lee when you asked her to the ball…"

"Nope. She just put on a really good show. And we did have fun, but it was friendly fun. No groping behind the trees or snogging behind statues."

Lara shook her head, still digesting the information. For some reason, she'd convinced herself that Fred and Angelina had snogged or at least kissed at the Yule Ball, despite the fact their behaviour didn't hint at any romance between them. She figured they'd gave it a go and it just didn't work out, so they'd moved on and agreed to stay friends.

Somehow, however, knowing they'd been together had made Fred seem entirely off-limits. Angelina was a good friend and Girl Code was definitely a thing in Lara's eyes. Not dating a friends ex (even ex-kissing partner) was surely at the top of the list. After all, Lara would feel distinctly uncomfortable if Angelina suddenly announced she was seeing David. Mostly because he was an arrogant prat, but still. Girl Code.

But Angelina had never saw Fred romantically. In fact, she saw his twin romantically, which was probably an oxymoron to most, but if anyone could tell the difference between the twins it was Lara. George was more sensitive and sweet, while Fred was fiery and instinctive. It was strange to think of them as totally separate when, mere months before, she wouldn't have been able to tell them apart if her life depended on it. But now, with one of them sat in front of her, holding her hand and delicately playing with her ring, it seemed so obvious that this was Fred.

Wonderful, reckless, funny…single, not-romantically-linked-to-Angelina, Fred.

Well, Lara thought, eyeing him greedily, taking in his wicked smile and freckled face, his long fingers and beefy shoulders. Why do I suddenly feel like I'm completely screwed?

The portrait banged open, making the duo on the couch jump in surprise. Fred dropped her hand in shock and Lara turned away from him, her eyes landing on the Gryffindor sixth years as they entered the common room with arms full of food.

"Afternoon, Culpepper," George grinned, throwing an array of snacks onto her lap. "Glad you're back already—I worried Freddy would wake up and be lonely."

"I can be alone for five minutes, y'know," Fred responded, rolling his eyes. "Plus, I was asleep."

"We know. You looked so peaceful we didn't have the heart to wake you for the kitchens," said Alicia.

"It's the first time you've ever looked slightly innocent and pure," Angelina teased, flopping onto the couch beside Lara and kicking her legs up. "How'd the career's thing go, Lara?"

"Good," Lara grinned widely at the Gryffindor girl who fancied George (not Fred). "I'm pretty simple, really. I already have a job lined up with my brother."

"Our girls gunna be a dragon tamer," George grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. "One day, she'll let me ride one."

"Excuse me, she will not," spluttered Lara.

"Not even a little one?"

"I'm not even dignifying that with a response—"

"We'll steal one, bro," Fred said, winking at his twin. "She'll never even know."

Lara reached over and flicked his bicep. Fred easily reached up, taking her hand in his and resting them, intertwined, on his lap. Nobody blinked, nobody murmured; George started to choose what dragon he wanted and Angelina struck up a conversation about the summer with Alicia. Lara, however, was having heart palpitations and her whole body felt overly warm—but deep down, it felt natural, it felt good.

Goddammit, she really was screwed.

So what did you think of the revenge? I was going to do something with pranks and stuff, but I thought this was more fitting. But maybe I'm harsh.

Guys...nearly 100 favourites! That's so insane. I really thought nobody was going to be bothered about this story, so it's amazing to see you guys like it! Well, like it so far, at least. There might be some of you that want to curse me to hell and back later on, but I guess we'll see...

reviews:

pamela hutchins: I know how you feel! I feel like crying at the thought of it too. Sometimes I can't even believe I'm writing this story either cuz I'm also a sucker for happy endings, but I got the idea and it kinda just went from there. It's kind of meant to be a story about love and loss and finding a reason to fight on even when you really just feel like giving up, which will be more apparent later...I hope, anyway. So it's going to follow canon cause I want to explore what happens after the war, but if you guys wanted it I could write a one-shot of if Fred lived? Maybe on a separate story to keep the flow of this one, but I could definitely do it. Maybe like Fred and Lara at King's Cross on the seventeen years later part? Something like that? Let me know what you think x