A/N: Sorry about the longish wait, college has killed my free time. Enjoy. XD

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"And one jump one foot - and one on the other - whoopsie - and then - there! All done!" I proclaimed happily, balancing - quite well, I thought - on one leg and beaming at the twins. They had their arms crossed, watching me with matching grumpy and unamused expressions. "Come on, you two, liven up!"

"Liven up?" asked George, raising an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, but we're playing bloody hopscotch. How 'livened up' can one be?"

"It's a great game!" I argued, enthusiastically. Indeed, it had been the only game I'd ever excelled in and I was determined to carry on the tradition. Mrs Weasley had consented to mark the squares in the grass with her wand, much to the disgruntlement of the Fred and George. "Anyway, my go is over. Who's next?"

"Not me," said George quickly, leading his twin to push him roughly in the shoulder. George grinned and shoved him towards me, eyes glinting. "Off you go then, play your turn and please Miss Paisley. You know you want to."

"Shut it," Fred sighed, rolling his eyes, as I took a step back to let him have his go. "I really don't understand what Muggles see in this game. Let alone you, Claudia. Thought you had better taste."

I sniffed, pretending to seem stung, as I passed him the stone he needed to use to play. "At least it doesn't involve sitting on a stick of wood far above the ground."

"Well, when you put it like that," Fred laughed, and I stuck out my tongue. He turned his attention to the markings on the grass and threw the pebble, where it landed in the last box. He smiled triumphantly at me, and hopped onto the next first square - before letting out a very feminine shriek of horror, stumbling, and falling straight onto his arse.

George was bent double with laughter, clutching his sides for support, and I myself fought to keep the amusement from my voice as I asked, "What the hell is wrong?"

"Stop laughing, you git!" Fred hissed at George, standing up and taking a good few steps back from the hopscotch marks. "It's - er - nothing. I thought I'd been - um - stung by a wasp."

I didn't believe him for a minute, of course. Instead I crept up to the game and examined it, wondering what an earth could be there to scare a Weasley twin. All that was there was a millipede, crawling in the grass, but I severely doubted it was the cause of his terror. I straightened up again, staring at him questioningly. Seeing that now George was looking nervous as well, and that both of their gazes were on the millipede, I began to laugh.

"Please tell me you're both not afraid of this?" I snorted, scooping up the insect in my hand and holding it out to them. They both took an automatic step backwards, and my grin widened. "You are, aren't you?"

"Of course not," George scoffed, though his expression suggested the opposite. "Why would we be scared of a thing like that?"

"D'you want to hold it?" I asked casually, walking nearer to them as the little fellow crawled over my wrist. They both wrinkled their noses and backed away, and I couldn't help but snort with laughter. As they smirked at my unattractive snort, I threw the poor thing at them, causing them to both yell - in a quite high pitched way, too - and I giggled, causing them both to go red.

"Come on," Fred sighed, evidently annoyed and embarrassed. "You're afraid of loads of things, and we don't mock you for them."

"What?" I spluttered, indignantly, raising my eyebrows. "Right. Let me just remind you, then. After my extremely traumatic lesson of flying, you didn't cease to imitate me for the rest of the year, pointing out each broomstick we ever bloody saw and laughing. In second year, you signed me up for Quidditch practise, and I had to explain to Charlie and the rest of the team that it was a joke. Then, in third year, you blindfolded me and led me up loads of stairs - and when you took the blindfold off, you were dangling me over the side of the Astronomy Tower, and had no idea why I was so shocked, terrified and annoyed!"

They both showed signs of interrupting, but I carried on, as the memories rushed back to me in a huge, indignant rush. "As I completely went mad, trying to save myself because I was sure I was going to fall, one of you scraped your hand on the side of the bricks and started to bleed. Of course, I went all faint and pathetic at the sight of the blood, and you two realised my next fear. Every year since you've pretended to be bleeding, or pretended I'm bleeding, and made me petrified. Oh, and not forgetting the time -"

"Alright, alright!" George groaned, but he was smiling at the memories, eyes glinting. He shared a reminiscent look with his twin for a minute or two, and I could help but clear my throat, bringing them both back to the present. They looked at me, as though surprised I was even there, and I shook my head. The two of them were so close, and evidently their minds were so alike, that it was sometimes frustrating to be in their presence.

"Like I said," Fred sniggered, eyes twinkling as he watched me frown at them. "We don't mock you for your fears."

"Ho ho, millipede boy," I sighed, folding my arms. He opened his mouth to reply, when Mrs Weasleys shout drifted over the lawn.

"Boys! Come here, look what I've just found when cleaning my room!"

The three of us shared curious looks and set off in the direction of the house. I felt intrigued as to what she could have found to interested Fred and George, and they seemed just as puzzled. We entered the kitchen together, to see Mrs Weasley flicking through a heavy looking book that rested on the table. She glanced up as we came in, smiled, and gestured for us to come over.

As we reached her, she explained, "It's an old family album. I haven't seen it for years. Here we are - yes, this is around the time you two were born."

She spun the book round so that we could see in more clearly, and we all bent to examine the photos. The first was of a much younger Mr and Mrs Weasley - Mrs Weasley was slimmer (though was evidently pregnant), and Mr Weasley had a lot more hair. They looked happy, waving up at us, and I looked at the next one.

Mrs Weasley looked exhausted in a bed at St. Mungos, and next to her sat a beaming Mr Weasley, each holding a baby twin in their arms. Both babies were crying, and I couldn't help but snicker. They were adorable as babies, with a scruff of red hair each. The next few pictures were all of the baby twins, and - once I'd 'aw'd sufficiently, we turned the page.

The first picture was of two young men, the oldest of which who seemed around twenty five, the younger around twenty two, and each held the hand of a three-year-old twin. They both had reddish brown hair, and were exceptionally handsome - the elder one taller, and more tough looking, the younger one slender and almost feminine in appearance.

I glanced at Fred and George, who were both looking unusually grave, and in turn they looked up at their mother. She had pursed her lip, and was staring down at the picture, her blue eyes having filled with tears. I bit my lip and asked, tentatively, "Who -?"

"They were my brothers," Mrs Weasley sighed, brushing away her tears with the corner of her customary apron. She pointed at the elder one, and then the younger. "That's Gideon, and that's Fabian. They were both younger than me, but they - they were -"

"They were killed by You-Know-Who's followers," Fred explained, gloomily, and Mrs Weasley nodded. I winced, feeling intrusive upon family grief. Mrs Weasley sighed, heavily, gaze still upon her dead brother's faces. "Don't worry, Mum. They died for a good cause, right?"

"Yes," she murmured, smiling weakly at Fred and George. "You two are quite like them, you know. They were notorious with their pranks at school."

They both smiled, evidently thrilled, but I couldn't share their enthusiasm. I couldn't bear to stare down into the men's handsome, laughing faces, knowing how they'd died. It bought back thoughts I hadn't thought for years, about my own mother, and the way she'd died. I closed my eyes, battling away the grief I had no reason to feel. I couldn't even remember my mother, so why was I getting so upset about it?

"Claudia?" asked George, and I opened my eyes. The three Weasleys were watching me, seeming confused and concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I smiled, quickly, brushing my hair from my eyes. "I'm - er - I'm going to get some fresh air."

With another reassuring smile at them all, I quickly headed out into the garden, breathing deeply and shaking my head. There was no point getting teary and mournful for a woman I'd never known. From what I'd heard from my father and other relatives, my mother had been rebellious and confident, and I felt sure she wouldn't want me to feel so awful about her death, so many years later.

"Claudia?" came a soft, tentative voice, and I turned, to see that Fred had followed me, expression weary. I smiled in welcome and he returned it, though almost hesitantly. "What's wrong? Is it - is it your mother?"

"I - how do you know?" I asked, feeling somewhat wrong footed. I had never mentioned to either twin that my mother had been killed by Voldemort, and I couldn't fathom how he knew.

"My mum just said she remembered about it," Fred explained, solemnly. "She knew your mother - Dorcas Meadowes, wasn't she called?"

"Yeah," I said, burrowing my brow. "I never knew your mother knew her. There's a few years difference between them."

"I think your mum was good friends with Gideon and Fabian, actually," Fred sighed, staring across the lawn into the orchards. "Anyway. You alright? You know, if you - er - if you want to talk about -"

"No, I'm alright," I laughed, pushing him in the shoulder good-naturedly. He was awkward and terrible at trying to be serious and comforting, but at least he was trying. "Anyway, what are the plans for this afternoon, millipede boy?"

Raising his eyebrows at my smug expression, he merely replied, "I thought we'd do some flying."

IIIIIII

Foolishly, I thought they had been joking.

Unfortunately, that was not the case, and half and hour later I was laid on my back in the grass, watching the two of them zoom over head, shielding my eyes from the sun with a hand. They were evidently having fun, laughing and whooping, but I felt terribly bored. As I'd always said, flying held absolutely no interest for me, and even watching them have fun couldn't stir anything inside of me.

I rolled onto my stomach, picking a dandelion from the grass and crossing my ankles in the air behind me. I spun the flower in my fingers, watching the petals, and feeling somewhat glum. Whilst I loved being here, and I loved the entire family, I did miss my own. I supposed I could Floo over at any time, but I didn't want to use up the Weasley's supplies - and, after all, I was pretty sure I could survive a summer without seeing them, so banished it all from my mind as efficiently as possible.

I scrunched the flower in my hand, dropped the petals onto the floor and sighed, pulling myself to my feet. I looked up to where the boys were flying, slightly lower and now within earshot, and squinted up at them.

"I'm going to write a letter to Lee or something," I called, beginning to walk away. However, Fred and George skidded to their feet either side of me, frowning. I raised my eyebrows, alarmed at their determined expressions. "Er - are you two alright?"

"Yep," George smiled, cheerfully, and they shared a mischievous look. "But you're not, obviously. We want to fly, but we don't want you to be left out."

"Well," I said, startled. "There's not much you can do, is there?"

"Oh, there is," Fred replied brightly.

"Yeah," George laughed. "There is. We thought you might want to -"

"- go flying with one of us," Fred finished smoothly.

"Er - what d'you mean?" I asked, warily. "I'm not getting on a broomstick. I can't fly. I hate heights. Everybody knows that."

"You have to master your fears though!" George complained, whilst Fred nodded in agreement. "Listen, you've not attempted to fly since that first time. If you try, then maybe you'll -"

"Oh no," I shook my heard, trying to make them understand. Once the two of them wanted me to do something, usually I'd end up doing it, and I couldn't let them persuade me this time. "I'm not, under any circumstances, getting on a -"

"Oh, you are," Fred smirked, and they shared yet another look. "See, George and I were talking earlier, and we thought that if you weren't alone on the broomstick - you know, if you went on the back of one of ours, you'd be able to do it."

"No!" I insisted, not even considering it, and backing away as they both took a step closer to me. "I'll kick you if you try anything, I swear."

"I'll risk it," George smirked, then caught Fred's eye and looked suddenly knowing. "In fact, I'm not very good at flying with someone behind me. Fred'll have to take you."

"If you insist," Fred winked, and feeling I was missing something rather important, I cleared my throat.

"What do you think -"

But before I could question what exactly they thought they were doing, Fred had grabbed my hand, sat on his broomstick and was trying to pull me on behind him. I resisted, staring at him as though he was out of his mind. After all, I believed at the time he was quite mad, trying to get me to do what I'd always sworn never to do again.

"Fred," I pleaded, staring into his eyes and frowning, feeling oddly nervous. "Listen - I really, really can't stand heights, and I really don't want to go flying. It's not just a fear, it's like - I dunno, a phobia, I just can't."

"I know," he sighed, though there was still something of a smirk in his face. "The thing is, I'm not going to go high. You get on the broomstick, we'll go about a foot in the air, okay?"

"A - a foot?" I asked uncertainly, giving in as we gazed at each other. "You promise?"

"I promise," he grinned, evidently thrilled I was giving in. George had already kicked off, and was feet above us in the air, amusing himself by chasing a butterfly across the lawn. With a huge feeling of trepidation, I swung a leg over the back of the broom, and settled myself on it uncomfortably.

"You might want to hold on," he suggested, his voice light and innocent, but I couldn't help but go rather pink as I surveyed his back.

"Er - what to?"

"My back, you idiot," he snorted from the front, and I rolled my eyes. Awkwardly, I put my arms around his waist, and he let out a light sigh. I scooted forward a little so that I was more comfortable and - with me wincing and grimacing and biting my lip - he took off from the ground.

True to his word, we hung only a foot or so from the lawn. My heart was beating in my chest, against his back, but it wasn't as half as scary as I'd imagined it to be. Slowly but surely, he went across the garden and back again, our feet scuffing the ground. In order to keep them from doing so, I reached my shoes forward and hooked my ankles around his, pulling them back at an angle.

He quite noticeably tensed, and looked over his shoulder, red hair in his eyes and cheeks surprisingly pink. I guessed the flying made him quite warm, and so dismissed it. "Are you - er - scared?"

"No, I'm fine," I smiled reassuringly and honestly. "Why?"

"Just, you know," he grinned, looking down at our entwined legs. "Thought you were looking for some extra support. We won't fall, you know, and even if we do it's hardly going to hurt."

"I'm not scared," I laughed, wrinkling my nose. "Come on, even I'm not that pathetic."

"A little higher then?"

"What?" I spluttered, clutching him tighter. "No! You said a foot! Don't you dare break your promise, or I'll have to -"

"Okay, okay!" he exclaimed, a snigger in his voice. I scowled, rather embarrassed, and we continued hovering over the grass at the same level. After five minutes or so, sensing that he felt extremely bored and stupid having to fly like that, I sighed heavily.

"You can let me off now," I said, nudging him in the back. "This can't be much fun for you."

"I'm alright," he shrugged, glancing over his shoulder again. "Why, are you bored?"

"Nope," I assured him, and he turned back to look where he was flying. "I just thought you might -"

"I'm going to keep doing this, you know," he said, conversationally. I blinked.

"What? Flying?"

"Yeah," he said, a smile in his voice. "I mean, every day, I'll fly you a little bit higher or something, or faster. In the end you'll have mastered your fear, won't you?"

"That's -" I faltered, trying to find the right words, or I'd end up sounding soppy and girlish. "That's really, well - surprisingly considerate of you. Why do you want me to fly so much?"

"I can beat you at Quidditch then," he laughed, and I couldn't help but join in. There was something oddly comforting about flying (at such a small way from the ground at least), my arms snugly around his waist and our conversation playful. It was something I'd never done before, and I began to wonder why not. I loved it.

Fred turned round again, grinning, and asked, "Let's go up a few more feet then, shall we?"

I promptly hit him in the back.

IIIIIII

"Is Harry coming round this summer?" Ginny asked, as we ate our way through dinner that night. I looked up from my dinner and listened, interested, to her and Ron's conversation. Harry Potter and I had always got on reasonably well, although we'd not spoken an awful lot. I found him pleasant and modest despite his fame, and liked him a great deal for it.

"I hope so," Ron shrugged, talking thickly through a mouth of mashed potatoes. "It's up to Mum and Dad, I guess."

"Mum," Ginny said, turning to her mother, who looked at her questioningly. "Is Harry coming round this summer?"

"Yes, dear, if all goes well," Mrs Weasley smiled, and Mr Weasley nodded.

"I may be able to get tickets for the World Cup, as I said, and Harry and Hermione are welcome to come along."

"Awesome," Ron grinned, and Ginny beamed.

"Claudia can come if we get tickets, can't she?" Fred asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Of course!" Mr Weasley said, as though surprised he even needed to be asked. "It'll be quite a job trying to get that amount of tickets - that said, Ludo Bagman was hinting heavily the other day he's willing to give me some for nothing. I didn't want to ask outright and seem rude."

"I really hope we can go," George sighed, a faraway look on his face. "Can you imagine? It'll be wicked."

I doubted this, somewhat. Quidditch matches did nothing for me; I had quite an interest in them in school simply because my best friends were involved, and I wanted Gryffindor to win. But the sport itself was a mystery, and I didn't care much if we got tickets or not. I was content just to hear about the score afterward.

As the table broke out into smaller conversations, I found that Fred was staring at me. I raised my eyebrows questioningly, and he shook his head, grinning. "You really have no interest in Quidditch, do you? It's mad."

I sniffed, with dignity. "It isn't mad at all. I like Quidditch, I'm just not bothered about it. I think the mad thing is getting all excited over it like you do."

"Why do you come to all the matches at school then?" he questioned, looking genuinely interested. "It seems pointless if you don't care about the game."

I rolled my eyes, having no wish to carry on the conversation about something so boring. "Because I love the sight of you in your Quidditch uniform, evidently. You look simply dashing."

"I try my best," he winked, and then was taken into conversation by his twin, predictably about the Quidditch World Cup. I sighed heavily and tucked into my meal, barely listening to the talk around me. Thinking of how the topic all summer would be about broomsticks, I finished off my meal and leant back, stretching contently.

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley," I smiled, fighting back a tired yawn. "That was lovely."

"It's no problem at all, dear," she beamed in response, and then glanced at her daughter. "Ginny, don't pick at your food like that, eat properly."

"Sorry, Mum," Ginny said, jumping as though she'd returned from a daydream.

"Thinking of Harry, eh?" Fred snorted, as George and Ron proceeded to snigger. The young girl's cheeks coloured dramatically, and she glared at her brother, folding her arms across her chest. "What? I'm right, aren't I?"

"Shut up," she hissed, looking livid. "Just because you can't keep your eyes off Claudia!"

"Ginny, Fred," Mrs Weasley said, sharply, looking between one angry face to the other. "That is enough, both of you."

"Thanks for the dinner," Fred said shortly, standing up and glaring fiercely at his little sister, his cheeks as red as hers. "I'm going upstairs."

With that he scraped his chair out of the way and stormed from the room, his footsteps loud as he ran up the stairs. George stood up, looking exasperated, and hurried after his twin. It left the table in a stunned silence, and me with burning cheeks, until Ginny bit her lip and looking glumly down at her plate.

"Erm, sorry," she mumbled guilty to me. "I didn't mean to suggest -"

"It's alright," I replied heavily, more than a little annoyed at her for bringing me into it. It made me think of things that were completely wrong, involving Fred and I, and I didn't like it one bit. "I mean, nothing was meant by it, so it's alright."

"Oh, of course not," she said hastily, sounding relieved. "I didn't mean to say it, I don't know what came over me."

"That's fine then," I smiled, annoyance ebbing away. She had said something in the heat of the moment, and that was understandable. Fred had been teasing her after all, so really, he deserved to be teased back.

Anyway, there was no truth in it at all.

Was there?

IIIIIII

A/N: Oh, Claudia, why must you be so blind? xD Please review! Love you all!

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