With his lunch break over and work calling to him, George slipped in through the shop's back door and was greeted with a light floral scent mixed with a smell reminiscent of muggle gunpowder. He headed for the railing to peer down at the floor below. The booms, whistles, and laughter below him barely registered in his mind anymore. They were the sounds of a good day of work, not something to be avoided. The buzz of customers meant good business and great sales.

His mind wandered back to lunch. The American hadn't been at The Leaky Cauldron today. He'd hoped to run into her, but not seeing her again might be for the best. He was tired of one-night stands and short flings. Tired of sneaking out of bedrooms like a thief in the night or worse, getting rushed out the door when he made the mistake of sleeping through the night. But bloody hell had her mouth felt amazing wrapped around him. It'd been a long time since one of his flings had been so eager to provide him that service. His body warmed at the memory and he chased the night from his mind before it gave him a bulge he couldn't hide.

Below him customers moved from display to display. A group of students gathered around the love potions display. Those potions didn't last long and they'd made sure to not make them too strong, but they were bestsellers among students. And middle-aged housewives. Business was booming. They'd hoped to make a comfortable living off the store, but never realized just how comfortable of a living it'd provide them. And with offers coming in from Europe and America from businesses wanting to stock their products, well they had a lot of room to grow yet. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was on the verge of becoming an international brand.

"You're distracted again," Fred commented as he joined him at the railing. "Is this a 'I have a new idea for a product' distraction or a 'I've got a cute girl on the mind' distraction? I'm hoping it's the first but your face tells me it's the second." Only his twin would ever be able to guess right and know what was on his mind so easily. Fred scratched at the back of his neck. His hair bordered on shaggy, but it didn't fall to his chin like George's. Despite the difference in hair, customers mixed them up all the time. They always went with it instead of correcting them. No need to embarrass the customers.

George heaved a sigh. "The second one never ends well these days, does it?"

"No, and yet we both keep trying." They exchanged frowns of understanding. Fred had made the mistake of getting back together with his ex Angelina earlier in the year. The relationship hadn't made it past six months this time before she ran off with a Quidditch keeper. The last girl George dated declared running a joke shop wasn't a respectable profession and that he needed to grow up. Last he heard she'd gotten engaged to a lawyer. He wondered what'd she think when she got news of the business going international. Even magazines were reaching out wanting interviews with the young identical businessmen.

Maybe it was their fault for the reputation they'd let themselves build starting in their school years. They'd since become the men women played around with for a fun time. The flings you went to for a steamy night but didn't want to be seen with during the day. The Weasley twins were for fun, not dating or falling in love with according to women. Plenty of girls came sniffing around after a bad breakup only to leave as soon as they found someone new. The worst one had been the bride who'd seduced George the week before her wedding.

George blamed Fred for the score of notches he'd put in his bedpost during their Hogwarts years, cementing their reputations as players. He'd always been more of a playboy than George. If not for Fred pushing him to be more daring he wouldn't have slept around at all. He'd always been a bit more shy back then with the girls.

When it came to relationships the women always left, many in disappointment after expecting them to be never-ending founts of jokes and a good time. The twins weren't allowed to be serious or, heaven forbid, have mundane moments. Them doing everyday activities turned the women off and made them complain they were too boring. They demanded the twins to be larger than life, an expectation George knew he could never fulfill. The last thing he wanted to do was sneak around just to read a book.

He'd discovered women never approached him when he had his nose in a book, whether because he looked busy or because it smudged his allure. And since he enjoyed books, it'd become a win-win situation for him. He could spend lunch lost in a good book without interruption. Fred called his reading disappearances his "Georgie time." His collection of tragic books and dark love stories grew after every fling. He kept them hidden though. The last girl to find them had laughed at him.

"I met an American," George said. "I don't think she knew who I was."

Fred's eyebrows shot up. If anyone could understand the meaning of that, it was Fred. As soon as the words womanizer or playboy got uttered, it sealed the death of a relationship for them, many before they got more than a few sentences in. Using their charms on female—and sometimes male—customers helped them practice their lines, making those sordid reputations too easy to uphold. "Are you going to see her again?"

"Dunno. I snuck out before she woke up. She told me she has a cousin who went to Hogwarts. Did you catch that bit Oliver said about our Quidditch game this Saturday? Said his cousin would be there and he wanted to introduce her to everyone. His American cousin."

Fred's attention turned to the door as a group of kids rushed inside. "Think it's her?"

"Guess I'll find out tomorrow. Wonder how she'll react when she finds out we're twins." Some girls lost their minds about the twin aspect. Those ones wanted both of them and refused to settle for one. To those girls they were nothing more than sex toys. Others didn't care which twin they got, seeing them as one and the same.

Silence hung between them, but words weren't needed. They both understood each other well enough without them. Fred knew George better than anyone.

"Try to not lose your head. I know what a hopeless romantic you are and it's never done you any favors." The words made George wince. He'd had his heart broken too many times. The only girl to ever truly break Fred's was Angelina. Fred had been the one to rub George's back every time he cried over a new knife to the heart. "Look." Fred waved toward a trio of teenaged girls gathered around the beauty section. Their beauty products, as well as their defense products, sold as well as the prank products, sometimes better.

"At least if owning a joke shop doesn't pan out for us we can always go into the beauty business." Fred nudged his arm. The comment was meant to cheer George up and it worked.

"Better go make sure we don't lose our chance then."

They slid away from the railing and split apart near the group. George closed in from the right of the group, Fred the left. They'd done this move countless of times. Now it came as second nature. "Ladies," they greeted in unison.

One of the girls jumped, the others cast them shy smiles.

"If you have any questions, don't hesitate to ask," Fred said. "But it looks like you don't need any help." His gaze raced over the closest girl

"But the sky blue would look stunning on you," George added to the girl near him. He pointed to the little bottle of shining blue liquid. One drop in each eye would turn the user's eyes blue for a day. They'd gotten the idea from a product Muggles wore to change their eye colors. They carried every color from brown to violet and in varying shades. Red, black, and yellow were always bestsellers during the Halloween season.

The girls tittered. "What about me?" the teen in the middle asked.

Fred peered down at her, receiving a blush in return. "Your eyes already sparkle like sapphires."

"Have you considered trying emerald on for a change?" George asked. Playing off each other was always one of their best sale tactics. People, especially women, loved it. With men, they'd learn to approach individually so they wouldn't feel intimidated. He considered this version of himself the salesman. His lines were designed to charm and set customers at ease and toe the line of flirtation at times, a popular tactic with housewives lugging around kids.

This version of himself felt right compared to his womanizer persona. Sure, the lines might be meant to flatter, but his enthusiasm about the products was real. He wanted to make his customers happy, and not just to get their money. He preferred to slip into his salesmen shoes instead of fleeing his latest fling through the darkness. By the time he'd gotten home last night he'd been soaked from the rain. That late-night version always made him feel ashamed and used.

Fred tilted his head to the right toward a gangly boy perusing the defense products. His signal to tell George to go in for the attack and he'd handle the girls. With business calling, he'd leave the American for tomorrow, but his scarred heart didn't look forward to it.

Lucy shifted as she squinted up at the broomsticks whizzing through the air. She'd been nervous about attending today, but Oliver insisted she come and meet all his friends. Apparently they got together at least once a month to eat good food and play Quidditch. He'd promised there'd be other girls and she hoped today could put her on the path to finding new friendships.

The loneliest part about adulthood she thought was how her friendships drifted after school. She no longer got to see her friends every day and have sleepovers. So many of them have moved or gotten married and disappeared from their usual hangouts. Having a group to play and watch Quidditch with sounded like fun. Well, as long as they weren't all as serious and obsessed about the sport as Oliver. He'd miss his own mum's funeral for a game.

A table filled with drinks and snacks sat off to the side of the Quidditch pitch with blankets laid out on the ground. She didn't spot Oliver amongst the group huddled around the table, which meant he had to be on one of the broomsticks above. She hugged the lemon roll and plate of cookies she'd made as her contribution and wondered if she should go to the table or stand here like an awkward kid until someone noticed her.

"Lucy!"

She whirled around at the voice in time for Oliver to land next to her.

"Glad you made it." He straightened up. Stubble lined his jaw and sleeves of his outfit clung to his toned arms. The body of a Quidditch player. Sometimes she wondered if she should get into playing instead of watching. She bet it'd make her stomach look fantastic. "You brought a dessert? Great." He peered into the container. "Is that a lemon roll I spot?"

"Yeah. I wasn't sure what to make."

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry. If no one else eats it I'll get it all to myself and finish it off. Let me introduce you to everyone." He led her to the table where a flurry of introductions began. There was Harry, the man with dark hair, his friend Ron, a redhead, and another redhead named Ginny who was Ron's sister. Not to mention the bushy brunette, Hermione, Ron's girl, and a dreamy blonde named Luna who wore the look of peace Lucy once saw on a hippie blazed out of his mind. Not everyone had arrived yet and already Lucy struggled to put names to faces. At least they all gave her smiles. She could do this, she told herself. All she needed to do was smile, nod, and smile some more.

"Aren't you the one who works in publishing?" Hermione asked. "I think I've read a few books your house published."

"We're the biggest publisher of magical books in America and one of the top three in the UK now, so it's likely you've at least seen something by us. I work for my company's magazine and books division."

"I hear her editing work is fabulous," Oliver said, giving her shoulder an affection squeeze.

"As if you'd ever read to find out," Ginny teased.

Oliver scoffed. "I read plenty of books about Quidditch. I'm not all brawn."

"You really need more of a life outside of the game. And don't start lecturing me on how it's more than a game," Ginny said. She looked over his shoulder. "Here comes the troublemakers."

"Is that the American cousin?" a voice asked from behind. "Do we get to meet her too or are you going to keep hogging her to yourself, Wood?"

Lucy froze. The voice felt too familiar, but it couldn't be. Not here. That voice was meant to remain at The Leaky Cauldron and in her bedroom fantasies. She swallowed the lump in her throat.

"This is my Lucy," Oliver said, wrapping an arm around her tightly and pulling her against him, giving her no choice but to face the newcomer. No, newcomers plural. Two men stood watching her, the figures who'd been zooming around with Oliver from the looks of them. They wore matching grins and clothes right down to their fingerless leather gloves. Both of them held a broom in one hand and a beater's club in the other. And they were both…George. Well the one on the left wore his hair shorter. So twins then.

"I'm Fred, the devishly handsome twin," the twin with the shorter hair said.

"And I'm George, the smart one. Nice to meet you."

"Uh, you too."

"Our pleasure," the twins said in unison.

Her eyebrows shot up in alarm. She hadn't expected them to speak at the same time. A realization washed over her and she bit her tongue to keep her horror from showing. She'd slept with George, but was he the one she'd been watching at the pub? Or had it been both of them and she never noticed the difference in hairstyles?

"Are you here to play?" George asked. The winkle in his eye let her know he remembered their extremely recent secret and she worried that Oliver might somehow be able to guess she'd had a one-night stand with one of his friends. Just her luck. She went all in on the adventure and now got to deal with the awkward consequences.

"I was planning on watching since I'm not very good." She clasped her hands together, the sweat making them clammy.

"Can't be any worse than Hermione," Fred said. "She flies like a granny on her way to church."

"I heard that!" Hermione shot back.

Fred shrugged. "Only speaking the truth here."

"Did you bring food?" George asked. "Oliver said you bake."

"I brought some cookies and a lemon roll." She wished she hadn't put them on the table so she could continue to clutch them to her chest like some sort of delicious sugary armor.

"Ace," both twins said. They darted around her and when she turned back to the table both of them already had a cookie in hand.

She looked to Oliver but his face held no reaction, making her think this must be normal for the twins. "If you want to play you can always switch out with someone. We usually take turns and breaks."

"I'd really rather watch today. It's been a year since I attempted to play. I wouldn't be able to keep up with anyone else."

"I'll help you practice sometime. I'll enlist the Weasley twins to help. They're great beaters. Could have gone pro if they set their minds to it instead of being businessmen."

"They're businessmen? They don't seem the type." Maybe not the whole truth. George in his suits looked like he was capable of being anything, even the Minister of Magic if he put his mind to it.

"I felt the same way but they seem to have a head for business that none of us knew about. They run a popular shop in Diagon Alley. We played on the Gryffindor team together in school. Harry too."

The girls appeared around Oliver and they crowded him out. "You go practice, we've got this," Ginny said. "It's our turn with her." And with that Lucy found herself planted on a blanket near the table, the girls sitting in a line on the other side with a slew of questions at the ready. George was right, she decided. Girls were like packs of wolves.

When the teams warmed up, she couldn't take her eyes off George. He made hitting bludgers look easy with the way he wielded the club. A pair of chasers practiced against Oliver and all three got to dodge George's bludgers. Ginny shrieked in delight when she barely dodged a bludger in time. From what Lucy understood, Ginny and Harry would be playing against each other as seekers come game time. Lucy would be sitting the match out with Hermione, who'd gone off to talk to Ron while he took a break. She folded her legs up against her chest. As awkward as she felt sitting alone and watching, it was nice to be part of a group again.

"See something you like?" Fred leaned over her, a leer on his face. That look made her defensive. George felt more charming, Fred more dangerous.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"I would with the googley eyes you are making at my brother like you want to eat him up for dinner."

Her face burned. "I'm not making eyes. Are you as good of a beater as your brother? Or are you going to ride his coattails?"

Fred let out a whistle. "Brutal. I admit he's the better beater, but I can hold my own just fine."

"I'll see it when I believe it."

"Then ye of little faith get ready to believe. I have more talents than being good looking."

She snorted. "I'm assuming being humble isn't one of them."

George broke away from sky and shot in their direction. He touched down beside Fred and gave him a pat on the back. "Your turn. I already winded them for you."

Fred saluted and climbed aboard his broom to zoom off toward the goalposts. George plopped down beside Lucy. She felt all too aware of how close he was. If she moved her knee just right, it'd brush his.

"Wanna make a bet on the match?"

She eyed him with suspicion. "I'm not betting money."

"No money. How 'bout if my team beats Oliver's, I get to come back to your place tonight."

She whipped her head to the side to face him. "That's what you're betting?"

"Yeah. Oliver never said you're off limits. Now your turn." He leaned back. "Make your end of the bet."

She pushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. What to bet? "I'll take the bet, but with one small change to yours. You have to stay for breakfast this time."

His head tilted toward her. "Will you make me French toast if I stay?"

"Yes. But if I win, you have to take me on a tour of the local tourist spots of my choosing."

"Deal." He held out his hand to shake on it and she accepted. He leaned in closer, their hands still locked together. "Do me a favor and don't tell your cousin about the other night, yeah? Don't want him punching me."

"If you're as egotistical as your twin, no promises. But to be clear, if I wanted someone to punch you I'd prefer to do it myself."

He laughed. "Spirited, I like it. Get ready to lose, because your cousin's team is going down." A horn blew and everyone mounted their brooms. "Time for me to go win. I'll see you later." He winked before riding off. She had to admit, she wouldn't be torn up if she lost the bet. But was it a good idea to get so involved with a womanizer? And Fred, something told her he was worse with that glint he'd had in his eye.

Either way it was too late. The bet had been made. Soon she'd find out where it'd lead.