You know the drill. Who owns Harry Potter? JKR! Who owns OC? ME!
I just want to say thank you to Kazaqui for being the first review on this story. Lowkey, Boston is my favorite too, mainly because I find it fascinating to write a character that doesn't have any dialogue.
Alright. Let's get ready to rumble.
Soon the tables were on the ground and right side up. Everyone got to work with dragging out chairs and dinnerware. Someone thought it a good idea to bring flowers as well. Kat always liked the idea of flowers at the dinner table. Her parents never really had any, citing that they died quickly and made a mess, not that they would have ever cleaned it up, not with Neely in their service.
At dinner, it seemed like all had gone back to normal. Fred and George came out a little pink in the ears, but it didn't dampen their mood long, especially after hearing about the game of bumper tables that was played.
"Then Boston leaped 10 meters to catch Kat right before she hit the ground. Dad got there just in time to stop them from hitting the ground. I swear they were up at least 25 meters in the air." Ron had taken to telling the story, and it seemed as though the distances and near-death incidents kept growing.
Fred, who had seated himself on Kat's left, leaned in and whispered to her, "Are you alright?"
She gave him a funny look and then, as if remembering what had happened just last night, a look of recognition crossed her face.
She whispered back, "You don't have to worry, Freddie. I'm fine."
He poked her in her side, right where he knew the nastiest of her bruises were. She let in a sharp hiss and shot him a nasty look. If she could have hexed him with her eyes, he would be on the ground with tentacles sprouting from his face.
"Yeah, you seem fine," he sniped at her.
"That's not really any of your concern, is it?" She hissed back at him.
He fixed her with probably the most severe and rageful look she had ever seen on either of the twins. "You made it my concern when I had to re-break your rib and put it back into place."
"Shut it." She slid her gaze towards Boston, who was thankfully wrapped up in a conversation about the World Cup.
"It's George's concern too," Fred added. His brother was across from him, talking about how excited he was to see Irland take down Bulgaria. "If you keep doing stupid and reckless things, we are going to be concerned."
"Oh, but you two can be stupid and reckless, but in the name of cruel but humorous pranks, then?"
"We don't have a death wish."
"Neither do I."
"Could have fooled me."
"What are you two whispering about over there?" George asked, breaking the little bubble of rage that had covered Fred and Kat.
Boston looked over then as well, slight concern on her face.
"Oh, just your brother being a prat again," Kat said calmly.
Boston shot a glare at Fred, but he paid no attention.
He still had that stern rage etched into his expression. He leaned in again to whisper to Kat. "You can pretend all you want love, just stop trying to get yourself killed, if not for you, then for George and Boston."
"Oh, but not for you?" She cocked up an eyebrow and lifted her chin.
Fred let out a humorless laugh but didn't answer. Instead, he pushed himself into the quidditch conversation, leaving Kat fuming by herself.
Boston looked at her with worry then flicked angry eyes at Fred.
Kat just shook her head. "Don't worry about it. He's just mad because I said that I didn't think Irland would win." Kat knew Boston wouldn't believe the clear lie, but Kat also knew she would drop it.
It was true that Kat and Fred were good friends, but they butted heads more times than not. George had always said that they were too like each other, too impulsive. George and Kat had gotten along much better, becoming friends first.
Like Boston, George had always been fun and reckless and wild but seemed to cool whatever fire raged in Kat that pushed her to do more and more dangerous things. Fred, on the other hand, had always made that fire burn hotter.
Boston had never been particularly fond of either twin on account of them constantly getting Kat into trouble by pulling her into their pranks. She thought that they were terrible influences but never discouraged Kat from spending time with them.
Kat overheard something from the other end of the table that caught her attention. "Who's Bertha Jorkins?" Kat asked Arthur.
"She works in the Ministry."
"She's missing and no one is looking for her," Percy chimed in.
Arthur looked exasperated. "She isn't missing. Ludo Bagman said she does this all the time, just vanishes for a little while only to turn back up a week later."
"It's been nearly a month," Percy retorted.
"Do you think it's serious?" Kat asked.
Arthur said, "I'm not sure," at the same time, Percy said, "Mr. Crouch is very concerned."
Percy continued. "Though Mr. Crouch is under considerable stress due to that thing that's coming up."
Kat made the mistake of asking, "What thing?"
The Weasley children all let out a groan at this, but Percy looked delighted.
"Oh, I can't tell you, Katherine, as it is a Ministry matter and of the utmost importance that it remains top secret."
"Then why are you bringing it up if you can't tell me?"
"Because he likes to feel important," George answered.
"Because you asked," Percy answered, shooting a stern look at George.
Kat was about to argue but felt a hand on her leg. She looked to her left to see Fred shaking his head. "It's not worth it."
George leaned across the table then, "If you get him started, he'll never shut up."
So Kat leaned back in her seat with her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn't pouting. Of course not. She was just agitated that nothing was going the way she wanted them to go.
Molly chimed in as the conversation grew quiet again. "Now, everyone, remember to give me your letters so I can gather your school supplies while you are all at the World Cup."
Boston looked at Kat, wide-eyed, and shook her head.
"Oh no, Molly," Kat interjected. "Boston and I can grab our stuff later in the week."
"Nonsense," Molly waved her off. "There's no need for that, seeing as I'm already going for everyone else."
"But," Kat started.
"Katherine Warner, I will have no arguments. You and Ms. Boston will give me your letters tonight and that is final."
Kat looked at Boston with an apologetic sort of shrug.
Boston had just looked down at her hands in her lap, her exposed stomach folding into waves. Money had always been an issue surrounding Kat's friends. Being from a wealthy family, Kat didn't always understand the stress it brought on people, but she tried her best to empathize nonetheless.
Boston had never truly struggled for money, but it was a sore spot for her anyway. Her parents had put aside funds for her before everything happened, but her guardian had told her to save it, taught her how to live off not much. The money in her vault had since been designated for emergencies.
She was too proud though, to ever ask for help when it came to funds. On the other hand, Kat seemed to always have money and never saw an issue with sharing it with her friends. It had been a point of contention between Kat and her friends, their embarrassment and pride being an obstacle.
The idea of Boston allowing Molly Weasley to buy her school things was unimaginable, as Boston knew that the Weasleys were much like herself.
Kat knew she would have to talk to Molly for them both. However, Kat would have to be careful to choose her words wisely as to not offend the stubborn woman.
The sun began to set, and as it did, Arthur lit candles that suddenly appeared on the tables. Kat looked at everyone through the veil of candlelight. She had a sneaking suspicion that everyone looked better in candlelight. She looked to Charlie and noticed for the first time a nasty looking burn on his right arm going from wrist to elbow.
George was looking at Kat in the new light as well, noticing how her nose seemed to turn up slightly at the end. There were purple smudges under Kat's eyes, and George wondered, not for the first time, if she actually slept well or just closed her eyes and pretended.
Kat's eyes shifted from his brother to himself, and that small smile was on her face. It was a peaceful, content sort of look that was rare enough to take note of. George knew that she gave that smile to him and Boston alone.
George's eyes then shifted to Boston. The girl was odd. There was no other way to put it. It was only with Kat that George saw her without the scowl that seemed a permanent resident on her face, like a freckle or a scar. She never spoke. Never. Her eerie sort of quiet made it easy to be uncomfortable near her. Without Kat, Boston was more threat than friend.
It was only with Kat that Fred and George ever interacted with Boston. If Kat weren't around to be the strange bonding agent, they would barely acknowledge each other's existence. But when Kat was around, it was like someone had turned on a light in an empty home. Boston was a completely different person. Still bizarre in her communication skills and standoff attitude, but it was like life was breathed into her.
George thought that maybe, it wasn't so much of Kat's doing as it was Boston's. Kat could start a conversation with a wall and still have a good time, but Boston was different. He thought perhaps Boston might just be selective with whom she gives her joy.
Yet, here she was, sitting with his family. To an outsider, it would look as if she belonged. He wondered if she felt that way too.
From the story Ron had told about the tables that afternoon, it sounded as if Boston was having fun with everyone, not just Kat. And flying around on brooms that morning, she was clearly letting go and enjoying herself even though Kat wasn't in the air with her.
George wondered if maybe, after all these years, she was starting to choose them the same way she chose Kat. The question was, were they going to choose her back?
"Oh, it is already so late; you should all be in bed," his mother called suddenly, looking at her watch. The sun had set completely, he supposed. "You have a very early morning tomorrow."
So everyone went to bed without any fuss; not even Kat argued. George and Fred, of course, wouldn't be sleeping much, seeing to the fact they had to figure out how to hide all their trick candy before their mother found and destroyed it. They knew she disapproved because it was slightly mean, but couldn't she see how clever they were and how much the boys had longed to find something like this, something that brought them joy and could also bring them money?
Fred and George made their way quickly to their room and started pacing, both clearly on the same wavelength.
"We could hide them in the attic; Mum won't look up there," Fred had suggested.
George shook his head. "The ghoul will get them and then probably rip the house apart out of rage."
"We could store them in Ron's room. You can never find anything in that mess."
George bit his thumbnail and shook his head again. "He won't let us in there after last time."
"It was just a small fire."
"It was his favorite poster." Fred had to concede that point.
Fred kept going. "The broom shed."
"Gnomes."
"The garden."
"Again, gnomes."
"The roof."
"Melted by midday."
"We could take them with us."
George's face lit up. "We could take them with us," he echoed.
"Yeah, we can fill our pocket up before we go," Fred was getting excited now.
"Put them in other places too, just in case Mum finds them, she won't get them all," George suggested.
"Yeah, yeah. We could get Kat to keep a few too. You know she'd help us, I reckon."
George's smile faltered. "What was going on with you and Kat tonight?"
Fred waved that off. "It was nothing, just a normal tiff." George just kept looking at his brother. Fred rolled his eyes. "Fine, yeah, I told her she needed to stop being such a bloody idiot and stop being so reckless. She said it was none of my business and I informed her that it is our business since we were the ones to fix her up last night."
"Yeah, she didn't look too happy," George said thinly.
"She nearly bit my head off, the nutter."
"You know she isn't someone who likes being told what to do. Imagine if she said the same to you. You'd be pretty put out too, I imagine."
Fred looked almost hurt at this, but then it turned angry. "I'm not the one nearly dying from dropping 15 meters from a table I had no business being on in the first place." Fred started pacing again, dragging a hand through his hair. "And Bill and Charlie should have known better too."
George knew when his brother got riled up like this, it was best just to let him spin himself out. "Dad caught them, no problem."
"Them." There was a sort of contempt in his voice that made George's skin prickle. "That bint is always encouraging Kat to do stupid things."
"You know Boston loves Kat."
"We love Kitty Kat! She was ours first!" Fred was breathing heavily. "Ever since she bonded with that non-verbal nightmare of a, she's not even a bloody girl, is she? Dressing like an angry slag all the time. She picks that over us all the time."
"Did you even listen while Ron was telling the story, or when Bill and Charlie were?" Fred looked at his brother with wild eyes.
"Oh yeah, Georgie," Fred said sarcastically. "I listened real hard to the tale of how our friend almost died again."
"Boston jumped off her table to grab Kat. She was going to be the one to take the fall. She was the one on the bottom Fred."
Fred was a new level of angry suddenly. "Oh, and that's meant to be better? Did she even think about how Kat would feel? Knowing her best friend died trying to help her? That would have killed Kitty, and you know it."
"Now you're mad that she cares too much?"
Fred sighed and slumped down onto his bed. He put his head in his hands and was quiet for a long moment. "No," he said after too many heartbeats. "Of course not; Boston is a good fucking friend. I know that." George knew his brother had finally wound down. "It just scared me. Last night."
"Me too."
"I mean, she looked like she shouldn't have even been standing."
"You're right."
"We should have insisted on a Medi Witch. Someone, even Boston, to look her over."
George slumped down on his own bed. "She would have hated us if we had." Fred looked at his twin across from him, pain etched on his face. "She trusts us."
"I'd rather her hate us than see her like that again."
George shook his head. "No. That's not," he sighed. "She's her own person, she's always been. Would you rather her hate us but be whole one time or trust us enough to come to us when she needs help? She's going to keep being reckless whether we are there to help her or not. What happens if she has no one to go to next time?"
"Don't say that. I can't even think about that." Fred's head was back in his hands, his fingers digging into his scalp.
"You know I'm right." Fred lifted his head and looked at George. Anger and grief and something else he didn't know how to name.
He changed the subject. "Who you reckons gonna win?"
"Irland, of course." George laughed slightly.
"Yeah, you're probably right," Fred moved to lay down on his bed, the same place Kat was last night, trying to hide her tears in his pillow. "You usually are."
This is a Fred friendly fic, but damn that boy.
