Disclaimer:

Not mine, never will be! Except for, you know, the plot.

"WHY DO YOU HAVE TO PICK ON SOMEONE EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU ARE TOGETHER?" Mum yells furiously. "DID YOUR PARENTS RAISE YOU TO TREAT OTHERS LIKE THAT?"

Fred and James exchange glances that say "Um, yes."

Please don't hurt me, Mum!

"IF YOU THINK YOUR FATHERS WON'T HEAR ABOUT THIS, YOU ARE VERY MUCH MISTAKEN!" Fleur takes over where Mum left off. This triple approach thing is kind of weird. "PICKING ON MY LOUIS!"

Gag me.

Um, why did Bill have to fall in love with her? It made it so that all their kids are bloody gorgeous. Though mine are pretty damn adorable too! But seriously, how do you compete with Veela blood? And that French accent?

Whoops. Got distracted again.

Of course, I really have no choice to do anything other than nod along. If I defended the kids, it wouldn't be taken well. And if I yelled, I'd be seen as hypocritical.

"YOU ARE GROUNDED FOR A WEEK ONCE THIS PARTY IS OVER, FREDERICK ARTHUR WEASLEY!" Angelina yells at him, tossing her black hair.

"Um, you too, James Sirius Potter," I mutter quickly, just so that I look all good parentish.

The other three continue the rant, but basically without my input. Just the way I like it. If I was the one saying all of this, it would just be horribly hypocritical. And I can't be such a bad example. I just have to agree with whatever punishment that Angelina sentences Fred to, and then just say "That goes for you too, James".

Lovely.

-----------------------------

After this session of Mum, Angelina, and Phlegm, I mean Fleur, yelling at the boys while I nod along, I make my way outside with James feeling fearful.

Then again, what could be so bad? Angelina just said that we were playing some Quidditch for the hell of it, and nothing else. But...

She was wearing that terrifying ominous face again. Never a good sign.

So, I reckon that I'm fairly safe in the assumption that this will be no ordinary game of Quidditch. Oh, no. There is something far more interesting here at stake.

I could guess at what it is, but I'm going to feign ignorance. At least then I can act all surprised and upset. And definitely say no way in hell to doing it.

If they knew that I knew it was coming,well, that'd be the end of that idea.

George would just say, "Hey, you chose to play and that means you accepted the consequences."

Screw consequences. What happened to playing a quick game of Quidditch here or there? Nothing's that easy in the Weasley family.

"Hey Gin," Bill says easily as I walk over to where he's lounging on the table, while keeping a careful eye on Victoire and Teddy.

WAIT!

Victoire and Teddy?

How did I miss them getting together? I mean, they've obviously liked each other for ages, but last I knew they were in full-on denial. How could I have missed this milestone in their lives?

"Hi Bill," I say, weary from all these thoughts.

"What happened in there?" He mutters, looking around surreptitiously, just in case that one of them was near. For all I know though, Dad has finally gotten around to putting those mini-camera things that Angelina stupidly gave him last Christmas, and Mum rigged the place.

Anything's possible.

"Ph-er-Fleur will tell you later. Maybe." I ramble on, nerves getting to me. "I mean, she probably doesn't want to admit that you raised such a pansy of a son that his older cousins pick on him or whatever."

"I see," Bill says, arching an eyebrow. "Does that make you and Ron pansies, Gin, seeing as the two of you were picked on more than Louis has ever been?"

I blush tomato red. Damn me for being from such a large family that they all have blackmail of some kind against me?

"Like that one time," he continues, "when you were seven and had a HUGE crush on Harry, and the twins used their "accidental magic" that they could somehow control to make your posters of him on your wall declare their love for-"

"Shut it!"

"I'm going to have to ask George sometime how they managed to make things happen so well. It always worked out so damn perfect!"

"Yeah," I say as sarcastically as possible. "Just peachy."

Bill just laughs at me, winds a piece of grass around his finger, and sucks on it. Another one of those Weasley quirks that we all do, and so do our children. I'll admit that even I do this one. Grass is so yummy!

There is something seriously wrong with me.

"So," I say, conversationally as possible, "how come you are just watching your daughter holding hands and flirt with a boy? Those things that you have claimed to hate whenever it comes to your daughters for years?"

He looks at me with gritted teeth.

"Because," he says delicately. "She threatened to divorce me if I tried anything."

I'm taking she to mean Fleur. I smirk.

"I should have thrown you into the pond when you were a kid, it would have done everyone a service." Bill mumbles, and I start to look offended. I mean, he's jumping to conclusions for it's obvious that he thinks that I just brought up this topic just to piss him off. Of course I did, but innocent until proven guilty, right?

"Don't tell her I told you, though." He quickly tells me, and I grin. But it fades when he starts talking again. "If you do, I'll have to tell Harry about that time when you were eight and were skating with Fred, George, and Ron on the pond at Christmas time, and you came running into the house still wearing your skates-"

"Stop!" I shriek in annoyance. It does no good.

"And told Mum that you didn't feel so well. When she asked why, you told her it was because Fred and George caught a fish and skinned it, then made you eat the inside eggs. Told you it was caviar or some Muggle thing."

"No..." I moan, but what can you do?

"And then you lived in the loo for the next week," Bill said, chortling as I glare at him. Damn him. When he was a young, stupid kid, I probably wasn't even alive! How fair is that? "Merlin, no one else could even go near it without passing out!"

I give him a very pissed off glare, and he stares back, unblinkingly, at me. Hm. Weasley males used to always fall to Weasley females and their glares. What happened?

"If you think this is bad," he whispered to me, "just wait for what George has in store for you."

And with that reassuring statement, he walked over to where Charlie was standing, whistling.

I'm thinking that I definitely should have ran away from home, and joined the circus or something. Sticking around was not the brightest moment of my childhood. The moment I realized that I was way outnumbered, I should have done a runner. Ah, the regrets.

A/N

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