Part 21 - Sweet Sixteen

"You could've let me say goodbye to Fred," I pouted, rather resentful of the firm hold my godfather had on the back of my neck as he guided us through the crowded Cairo marketplace. "It would've only taken a second, and I told him I would."

Shooting me a barely civil glance, Remus responded, "You may not be aware, but you are in absolutely no position to be making complaints right now. Let's just get this curse taken off you, and then we can worry about how you're going to be punished for being so uncharacteristically stupid."

"I already told you that nothing really happened!" I countered, hating the brilliant pink blush that had been present on my face since Dumbledore made me confess the situation and all its sordid details to Remus less than an hour earlier.

"I don't want to hear it," he growled, "You've been given a great deal of independence since you came back, but I am still your guardian until your seventeenth birthday, and I am obviously going to have to keep a closer eye on your whereabouts and your company."

Abruptly dodging a large bearded man trying to sell me a handful of overripe figs, using the opportunity to duck out from beneath Remus's guiding hold on my neck, I argued, "You know, the only reason we even know about this curse is because Fred was being such a good friend and boyfriend."

"And he can certainly be both of those things without laying his hands on you until you're of age," Remus snapped.

"You're acting like he was taking advantage!" I crowed, apparently losing the ability to filter my own thoughts, "It was my idea!"

"Stella," Remus snarled, somewhere between irate and horrified, "Stop. Talking."

Again, I had apparently lost that ability. "And even if we had been having sex," I argued bratily, "It's no one's business but our own! We are both highly intelligent and completely disease free! We love each other!"

Remus whirled on me, looking a lot more pissed off than I'd seen him in ages. "You are not yet sixteen," he hissed furiously, "What do you know of love?"

"You've never risked your heart, not once in your entire life," I countered, not backing down for a second, not pulling any punches, "What do you know of it?"

And then we had ourselves a bit of an epic stare-down, right there in the midst of the marketplace. His gleaming gold eyes locked with my icy slate-blue ones, neither of us willing to let the other win.

Fighting with Remus had gotten so much more difficult since I'd decided that I was just as much of an adult as he was. It's not like I was trying to be mean or to make my godfather's life difficult; he had certainly done a wonderful job of caring for me all those years, a job that I appreciated and treasured more than he could know. But... that just wasn't enough anymore. After everything I'd been through, obedience for obedience's sake was no longer an option. Even if I didn't always make the best decisions, they were my decisions to make, no one else's. Not even a man I loved and respected, a man who was practically my father (maybe not even my actual father, if it came down to it) was going to keep me from living my life in whatever way I saw fit.

"Um, hi," a familiar voice interrupted a few long moments later, Bill Weasley's handsome freckled face swimming into focus just beyond Remus's shoulder, "Am I... interrupting?"

"Not at all," I chirped, breaking away and hopefully leaving the argument behind, running to give Bill a big hug, "How've you been, mate? Keeping out of trouble?"

With a smirk and a light peck on my cheek, Bill answered, "Doing a better job of it than you have, apparently. How on earth did you get yourself cursed?"

Shrugging, I complained, "I don't know. Dumbledore didn't want to say until you'd had a look at me. I think he was just busy with other things."

Bill chuckled, ruffled my hair. "Wanted to leave it to the expert, more likely," he declared. There was something different about him, and it took me until that moment to figure out that he was without his ever-present leather jacket, just a slightly dingy, dusty white t-shirt stretched across his long lean chest. Which made sense, I reasoned, as the weather in Egypt was not exactly jacket weather. (Of course, after the frigid spring we'd left in England, the toasty afternoon was kind of amazing; I was wearing shorts and a spaghetti tank in March, and it was awesome!)

Remus and Bill shook hands, exchanged pleasantries, and then we all headed for Bill's flat, a quintessential bachelor pad located over a dive bar and complete with sparse, shabby furniture and more quidditch and bikini girl posters than food in the fridge. But Bill was Bill: he was a twenty-five-year-old boy, and I wouldn't have expected anything else.

"Can I use your owl to send a letter to Fred?" I asked immediately, shooting Uncle Remus a small scowl when he huffed and rolled his eyes.

Puttering around in the kitchen as he scraped together a large pot of unusually strong, sweet coffee, Bill replied, "Um, ya. Tut should be on the balcony, and I think I've got some parchment and quills stuck out there somewhere. Help yourself."

Bill's owl was a big, dark beast with huge, intimidating yellow eyes. But he was really a kitten, hooting and jumping excitedly, nuzzling my arm while he waited for me to scribble out a quick "sorry, don't panic, see you soon" to Fred. I gave Tut a few owl treats and sent him on his happy, hyperactive way. Leaning on the balcony rail, I took a moment to admire the view of the marketplace, peering out over flat rooftops and narrow streets and, far in the distance, a shimmering stretch of desert.

When I stepped back inside, Bill and Remus immediately stopped their hushed conversation, which led me to the conclusion that my hijinks and I were its subject.

"So," I ventured, snagging a hot cup of coffee straight off the burner, "Have we figured out what's wrong with me?"

Bill smirked, lounging lazily against the counter. "Sounds like a low-level Trapdoor Curse," he answered, "But I'll have to get a better look before I know for sure."

"Hmm," I said.

"Basically, Trapdoor Curses create passages," Bill explained, "You put a Trapdoor in someone's mind, you can get in and poke around. But they're very, very difficult to perform properly and even more difficult to perform without the subject knowing because they require that a physical hole be made in the structure you wish to infiltrate. Well, actually scholars are divided about whether it's the blood and bone sacrifice that's required or whether the cursed actually needs the physical passage. I say it's both."

"Bill thinks that you were probably cursed last week when you cracked your skull," Remus added very plainly.

"But that was an accident," I argued, "I tripped. I'm pretty sure no one did anything to me."

Bill shrugged, blue eyes hardening. In a very professorish tone, he said, "Most likely a crime of opportunity then. Someone came across you while you were unconscious at the bottom of the stairs or possibly in the infirmary, and they used the fact that you'd cracked your skull to put this curse on."

"Then it was someone from inside Hogwarts," I whispered, "A teacher or a student. I mean, it's not like Death Eaters routinely hang around the castle waiting for me to trip and fall on my head."

"Well, you are closely related to Tonks," Bill joked dryly, "It's not exactly a bad bet that you'll be falling on something at some point."

"Haha," I deadpanned, giving him a light smack on the arm, "You do realize that this means Hogwarts has a spy. Another spy. Hell, it's like Dumbledore has a yearly quota for hiring traitors or something."

Remus shot me a disapproving glare.

"Well, what's with the dream thing then?" I questioned, ignoring my guardian, "Is that usually how the curse manifests?"

Bill shook his head, bright ponytail swishing as if it had a personality of its own. "No," he murmured, "Like I said, it's a difficult curse to perform properly, and whoever did it likely didn't have very much time. You were either gravely injured or under observation in the hospital wing. I think the person screwed up and put the door into your subconscious rather than conscious mind. Then all he could get at were instinctual things, fears and passions, stuff like that, and only when your conscious mind wasn't working to suppress them. And dreams, well, they're ruled by the subconscious, so that's the only time the person could not only have free reign to poke around, but also could wrestle your conscious mind into the whole process to help him find what he wanted. It's a common mistake, actually. Some historians think that improperly performed Trapdoors are responsible for a lot of incubus and succubus sightings. The dream and sleep disturbances take on similar forms, and the victims manifest most of the same physical symptoms as their bodies gradually start to become affected from the abuse they suffer in their dreams."

"Creepy," I declared.

Bill finished his coffee, smiled, patted my shoulder. "Don't worry," he soothed with a cocky grin, "You're with the expert now."

"You're really getting off on that expert thing, aren't you?" I teased.

He had the grace to blush, a little, at least. "Get comfortable on the couch," he instructed, "This might sting a bit."

xxXxx

Three hours and more than dozen heavy-duty zaps to the noggin later, I was curse free. Unfortunately, I was also feeling like I'd gone a few rounds with a bare-knuckle boxing champion, dizzy and achy and nauseated.

Bill said I should stay on the couch, rest, but I was too stubborn. I insisted on going out, walking it off, exploring as long as I had traveled so far. It was early evening by then, the marketplace even more impossibly crowded, hot and dusty, blindingly bright as the intense sun passed through extreme angles on its way to the horizon. The wizarding sector we were in was a place called (loosely translated) Saladin's Walk. The architecture was almost exclusively ancient Islamic and Coptic, fat minarets and low stone archways, open-air vendor stalls.

Even though I wasn't at my best, I quite enjoyed taking in the sites. Last time I'd been in Egypt was the summer before, and I had steered very clear of wizarding areas (I'd been on the run, after all). But Saladin's Walk was... interesting. Certainly a lot different than Diagon Alley. Rougher and livelier, crowded, saturated in rich, intriguing sensations at every turn.

We got a quick dinner, dolma and lamb kabobs that we ate while we walked. Bill played tour guide, expounding at great length on the history and the sights, and the whole experience was just nice. Fun. I really was feeling better after an hour or so, buying pieces of exquisite fresh fruit and tart, sugary candy to munch on for dessert, wandering into small shops and browsing the unusual selection of magical antiquities.

I bought an old Egyptian puzzle box, sort of like a morphing Rubix cube but with many more rows of intricately carved wooden sliders that would form new pictures every time they were solved. And, the seller assured me, solving the puzzle would also open a hidden treasure compartment, one where secrets could be both kept and revealed (depending on the needs and moods of the solver). I thought it would make a cool birthday present for George, as he did have a bit of a fondness and talent for such logic games.

Fiddling with the toy as we walked, I explained my motivations to Bill, who was pleased to hear that my birthday was coming up along with the twins'. He got a bit more secretive with his own shopping after that, clearly looking for presents for all three of us.

I still didn't have anything for Fred, so that's what I was really looking for as we wandered along, almost back to Bill's flat after doing the whole long loop that was Saladin's Walk.

A small, dim bookstore drew my focus, and I made my way inside, thinking that maybe I could find some rare potion manual or ingredient guide.

But there were only a few tightly packed shelves of books in the front of the store, concealing a narrow, quiet room where an old woman sat hand-spinning fine white cotton. Her eyes were open wide but unseeing, a milky film covering her black pupils and nearly black irises. They looked a bit like cataracts, except wizards have simple potions to eliminate cataracts. I thought it must be spell damage and wondered how it had happened, if it had been terribly painful.

"Would you like to sit?" she asked in Arabic, her voice surprisingly clear and steady for how old she looked (practically ancient, silver hair and dark, hawk-like features).

"Yes, thank you," I replied, also in Arabic. I wasn't nearly as fluent as Bill, but I'd been getting along just fine and enjoying the chance to practice. I took a seat near the old woman, on a low mound of plush, satiny pillows at her side. I watched and admired the fluid, graceful movement of her old gnarled hands as she went about her work. "My name is Stella," I finally said, relaxing, realizing that my feet were a bit sore from all the walking, that my limbs and eyelids were heavy, "How are you this evening, ma'am?"

"Creaky but content," she replied, thin, dark lips curling mysteriously, "You speak well, Stella. Very well, for a Westerner. What is it that you seek?"

"A birthday gift," I explained, lulled by the almost overwhelming smell of incense, the smothering heat and soft candlelight, "For my boyfriend."

Again, the old woman smiled, staring right at me but not quite. Just a bit off. "You love him," she said, "Very much. There isn't a doubt in your mind..." Chuckling, she added, "Usually the young ones reek of doubt. Certainty is refreshing... What sort of gift are you looking for?"

I shrugged, murmuring, "That's the problem. I don't know, and nothing really seems good enough."

She hummed thoughtfully, never stopping her spinning. "Give from the heart," she said, "And you cannot go wrong."

"I know you're right," I told her, yawning sleepily, smiling, "I should stop worrying... this is just the first official gift I'm giving as his girlfriend rather than goofy best friend."

"You say that as if being one means you cannot be the other," the old woman observed slyly, "Love built on friendship is often the strongest kind."

"Well, I certainly hope so," I laughed, suddenly so tired. I realized that my eyes had fallen shut and fought to pry them open, to keep them that way. The effort was futile, and I couldn't understand why I was so damn exhausted.

I felt the old woman's hand on my head, thin, bony fingers combing through my unruly hair. I didn't know when she'd started, when she'd stopped spinning and reached out, but the soothing touch pretty much sealed my gentle slide into sleep.

Just before I completely tuned out, she pressed her thumb very softly right between my eyebrows. She said, "May all your loves be long and your heart be strong enough to bear them."

xxXxx

I woke on a couch at the back of the bookstore, the narrow sitting room and the old woman both gone. (And when I say gone, I mean, fucking vanished without a trace that either had ever existed.) Bill and a middle-aged shopkeeper were standing over me, looking baffled and concerned.

"Up you get, little one," Bill ordered quietly, scooping me effortlessly off the couch, despite my feeble protests, "I knew I should've made you stay in. Falling asleep in random public locations can't possibly be good for you."

I was confused, a little frightened, and demanded to be put down.

Bill refused to oblige, carrying me out of the store with a curt, "You're going home and straight to bed and getting pumped full of potions. No way am I letting you get sick on my watch ever again. If Mum doesn't kill me, then Fred surely will."

"But I'm not sick," I argued weakly, blinking owlishly at my surroundings, at the night that had fallen and the shimmering stars and pale crescent moon that had already risen. "I was..." I said, "I was talking to someone. An old woman. She was blind, and we were in a different room... she made me sleep, I think."

Smirking, Bill gave a relieved sigh and finally set me down onto my feet but kept me tucked tight against his side. "An old blind woman put you to sleep?" he asked as we walked along.

I thought he was making fun of me, so I scowled and replied, "Yes."

"Then you probably met Hathor," he laughed.

Gaping stupidly, I managed to squeak, "What?"

"It's just a legend, really," Bill explained, beaming dopily, "Hathor's the ancient Egyptian goddess of love. There've been stories going back the last hundred years or so of an old blind woman in Saladin's Walk who talks to young girls who are in need of advice on subject. The girls fall asleep, and when they wake up, she's gone. The girls pretty much always go on to marry their true loves and live happily ever after, have lots and lots of babies." He shot me a quick wink, adding, "Some people say that it's Hathor they talk to, others think it's probably just be some old sorceress having a bit of fun. Either way, the name stuck."

I blushed scarlet all the way up to my hair, squirming nervously and noticing a single strand of fine, hand-spun white cotton tied around my left wrist.

xxXxx

I was kind of torn for awhile about whether or not to leave the string around my wrist, but in the end I did. Bill checked the thing for all kinds of curses and jinxes and hexes and spells and found none, so I figured, why the hell not? The Hathor stories were all good ones; goddess, sorceress, or whatever, she didn't seem like a malicious being. And I thought the strand was pretty, thought that, maybe, it would bring luck. I couldn't tell you if it ever worked, but it never fell off; it never grew dingy or worn, stayed pure, perfect white no matter what I did to it.

Remus and I took an international floo connection back to England the following morning. He then declared that I was grounded, and I had myself a bit of a laugh and went shopping.

With the old woman's advice in mind, I strolled Diagon Alley and browsed for Fred's birthday gift, finally settling on a really neat old bronze pocket watch. It had like a dozen different faces with different functions that could be flipped through by turning the winding dial. It had a clock, of course, one that kept perfect time and date. It had a little moving star map that would match whatever was really going on overhead at any given moment and location. It had a compass, a speedometer, a timer, temperature and depth gauges, and several other interesting gadgety type readouts (all waterproof, of course). The coolest feature (I thought) was a smooth mirror face. Struck by genius, I went all the way to Dublin tracking down a book about how to spell and sync two-way mirrors (as well as an old book of lewd cartoons that I couldn't resist purchasing for George). I went back to the Burrow and spent the next six hours or so making Fred's mirror able to call mine and vice versa. Once I got all the incantations down, making another simpler one for George was much easier.

The day after was the spa day. I collected the twins from Hogsmeade, and we flooed to the beautiful countryside location. Fred and George remained unenthusiastic but resigned to their fate, at least until our personal and very gorgeous masseuses showed up and encouraged us to strip completely and don thin towels before getting our first massages of the day.

"Oooooh..." George moaned, practically goo as a pretty blonde witch (probably part veela) kneaded his freckled shoulders, "This... is... amazing..."

Fred made a low noise of agreement. He was getting the same treatment, limp and occasionally sighing happily.

"Glad you're enjoying yourselves," I snickered breathlessly, quite thrilled with my own rubdown at the hands of a burly but baby-faced brunette wizard.

The massages went on for awhile, followed by facials and body wraps. The boys were still a bit skeptical but again ended up happy, more relaxed than I'd seen them in months. And all our skin looked really great; those magical spa products were just fantastic in every way.

We had lunch on a garden terrace, just the three of us in the sunshine and unbelievably fluffy robes and slippers. It was our first opportunity of the day to have any sort of extended time to talk (since we'd all been so caught up in relaxation), so I regaled the twins with the story of what happened while I was in Egypt. They were concerned yet fascinated, but we quickly moved on to other crazy stories, jokes that had me practically doubled over with laughter, such as how George got back at Fred for getting their dream walking research confiscated...

After lunch we were given mud baths, each in our own beautifully tiled tub. We talked more, joked around for about an hour. We then rinsed off and were taken to soak in an enchanted outdoor hot spring where we swam and splashed, jumped off the rocks. We were rowdy, but no one else was around to complain.

Once we got bored of that, we went back inside. I got a luxurious manicure and pedicure, complete with leg and neck rubs, while the boys each got another deep-tissue massage. It was getting on into evening by then. We'd spent the whole day being pampered, and by the time we left, the twins had been so thoroughly relaxed that they could barely walk straight.

I got them all the way back to Hogwarts before smugly declaring, "I win."

Hugging me from behind, practically asleep on my shoulder, Fred yawned and murmured, "Ya, ya. So what would m'lady like to claim for her prize?"

"I'll think of something," I giggled, tugging George back from the wall he was about to walk into, "For now, let's just say you owe me."

Nuzzling my neck, Fred laughed, "Fair enough."

xxXxx

April Fool's Day 1995 was absolutely amazing. I slept over the night before, the twins having smuggled me into their dorm, so I got to wake up with Fred's arms around me. I got to tease him awake, and we both got to start off our birthdays with a very slow, sensual make-out session that ended quite happily for the both of us.

After all the other roommates had left, Fred and I emerged from his bed to find George waiting impatiently. He immediately demanded presents.

"It's the least you can do," the pouting redhead argued, "Especially since I didn't get the same nice wakeup as my uglier half."

"Don't be jealous, Georgie," I said, flipping the wrapped book and puzzle box and enchanted mirror at his head, stuffing Fred's pocket watch and a handmade scarf to match his hat into my boyfriend's capable hands, "We'll find you a girl yet. Try not to get too chaffed in the meantime though. Hand lotion is your friend."

"Evil," he grumbled, catching a lumpy package from Fred, throwing both of us our own presents.

When we had all been sufficiently gifted, we counted to three and dove in. There was a mad flurry of wrapping paper, cackling laughter.

I tried and failed not to crack up when I saw that Fred had gotten and enchanted George a rather realistic blowup doll, as well as an impressive assortment of single-player activities such as a set of playing cards with stripping women on them. On a more serious not, he also got his brother a new beater bat.

George got Fred a beater bat, too. In addition, he also got a book of dirty jokes and a new secret invention that George was calling "Instant Cold Shower, for the Frustrated and/or Overindulged." George encouraged his brother to use it rather than stealing me away so often.

From George I got some new joke products he'd been testing, a pack of exploding bubblegum, a pair of thick Geek chic glasses that made you look awake when you weren't and would whisper answers into your ear if you happened to be asked something that was covered during your nap, and a pretty bottle of sweet perfume that changed scent depending on the wearer's mood (I think he must've added pheromones because the stuff drove Fred absolutely crazy). He also got me (ironically) a bottle of lilac and lavender hand lotion from the spa.

Fred had made me a charm bracelet. Well, I guess he didn't make the bracelet part; that was just a simple silver chain he'd found in a second-hand shop, but he did make the charms. There was a turtle, and its shell opened to reveal a cute picture of the twins and I hugging and shoving and laughing (tapping the head three times brought up a very old picture of Remus and my mum and my dad in much the same pose). There was a shaggy, fluffy dog that wagged its tale and would bark and lick the inside of my wrist when I was feeling sad. There was a little book whose pages fluttered occasionally and showed random quotes and useless-but-interesting facts (such as how Amish communities experience the highest incidence of twinning in any known human population). There was a little ball of soft, gleaming white light (a star, Fred claimed proudly) that would glow as bright as a small sun whenever I found myself in need of it. There was an owl that could be detached and covertly sent off short distances with small message scrolls clutched in its beak. There was an impossibly intricate dreamcatcher. There was a tiny model of a human heart, and it throbbed in time with my boyfriend's strong, steady pulse.

"It's beautiful," I said, grinning brilliantly, pulling the unbelievably sweet redhead into a long, lingering kiss. After he cleared his throat, George was given a similar yet entirely unromantic hug and kiss.

We stayed in the dorm for awhile, all playing with and admiring our presents, opening more when they arrived from various friends and relations. We got candy and books and clothing and toys, and, around the time that I was lounging against Fred's broad chest and perusing the very thorough text on Ancient Egyptian Mythology that Bill had sent me, Harry appeared in the doorway.

"Hi," he said, smiling shyly, "Um. Happy birthday."

"Thank you, little bother," I replied good-naturedly, "Want some licorice? Charlie sent me about a half ton of it."

Grinning, relieved at his reception, Harry wandered further into the room and accepted the treat. "Thanks," he quipped, munching, "I, um, I have presents for you guys, but you have to come with me to get them. They're a surprise."

"Surprises are good," George declared, quite happily fiddling with his puzzle box, "However, dragging my arse out of bed is not. Better be worth it, mate."

Harry chuckled, only a bit nervously. "It is," he assured us, "Promise."

"Alrighty," I replied, diving enthusiastically for a change of clothes, "Let's get this show on the road."

xxXxx

It was sort of understood that the twins and I did not attend class on our birthday, never did during our entire school careers; sometimes we didn't even go to class on the days before and after, depending on how epic the party got. However, we did our best not to flaunt the holiday too blatantly to staff members, so Harry guided us down deserted hallways with the Map in hand. Our destination was quite obviously the Room of Requirement, and we arrived quickly. Harry conjured a door, and led the way into a small, dark replica of the Gryffindor Common Room.

As soon as the twins and I stepped inside, the lights came on, and people jumped out from behind couches, threw streamers and conjured small sparks and shouted, "SURPRISE!"

I laughed joyously as my eyes swept around the sparse but happy group of partygoers. I saw Ron and Hermione, of course, Ginny, Uncle Remus, and-

"DAD!!" I shouted, flinging myself immediately into the old man's scrawny arms, burying my face against his freshly scrubbed neck and trying not to cry from sheer happiness.

"Happy Sweet Sixteen, my baby girl," he murmured, sounding a bit choked up as he hid his gaunt face in my hair, "Merlin, I missed you." His hug got almost painfully tight, but I didn't care. I hugged him back just as hard.

A bit caught up in ourselves, we failed to notice that the embrace had gone on for quite a bit longer than was strictly necessary, that the others present were watching fondly, waiting patiently for it to be over. When it finally was, Dad and I pulled back and beamed each other, my feet barely skimming the ground.

Then Dad looked over my shoulder at the twins. His expression grew hard, slightly scary, and he growled, "I can't tell which of you is the one who was caught in bed with my daughter, so you both might want to run for your lives."

"Daddy!" I scolded, smacking him lightly on the chest as he set me on my feet but kept his arm around me, "Be nice." Smiling quite gleefully (because I'd wanted to introduce them for awhile--though, ideally, under better circumstances), I guided Dad over to the very startled-looking twins and gushed, "This is my best friend George. And this is my boyfriend, Fred."

"Uh. Hi," Fred stammered, clearly shell-shocked, anxious, maybe even a tad horrified as he bravely held out his hand, "It's really nice to finally meet you, Siri- er, uh. Mr. Black." He did his best to hide a wince when Dad took his hand and tried to crush it rather than shaking it.

I nudged my father, once again scolding, "Be nice! That whole thing wasn't Fred's fault! Besides, he pretty much saved my life. How about a thank you, huh?"

Fred was trying frantically to stress with his expression alone that I shouldn't push his luck.

Dad just seemed a bit disgusted by the very thought, but, after I stared pointedly for a few moments, he finally turned back to Fred, glared, and gritted, "How 'bout I hold off on pummeling you, and we call it even?"

"I'm good with that," Fred hastily agreed, voice rather high. He elbowed his brother when George began to snicker.

Rolling my eyes, I allowed my father to steer me away from the twins and towards a table packed with food. The exact varieties made me smile. "Pineapple upside-down cake and spaghetti sandwiches?" I chuckled, "Merlin, I haven't had those in years!"

"They were your favorites, right?" Dad ventured somewhat worriedly, hugging me tight against his side, "I mean, when you were little. We can get something else-"

"No way!" I crowed happily, snagging a ridiculously messy and delicious sandwich off the platter, "It's perfect!" I took a big bite, probably smearing spaghetti sauce all over my face and not caring at all. "Mmm," I hummed brightly.

Dad grinned, stress melting out of his crinkled blue-gray eyes. He laughed and pressed a kiss into my hair. "Well," he said, "You'll have to thank Harry. This whole thing was his idea, and he set most of it up. Under my direction, of course."

I giggled, turning to shoot my timid godbrother a wide smile and a quick wink.

From where Fred was giving him a speech that began with a light punch and a hissed "Some damn warning would've been nice!", Harry smirked right back at me.

Everybody sang and had cake. The twins and I opened more presents, mostly books and joke stuff. Ginny got me sparkly earrings. Harry got me a weird little stone person statue that he'd charmed to dance and cluck on command. Dad got me a really snazzy pair of black motorcycle boots that I insisted on putting on right away and wearing for pretty much the next three weeks straight.

Dad only had a two-hour pass to the castle (Dumbledore's orders), and he and I spent that window being pretty much inseparable and never shutting up (he spared a bit for glaring and growling at Fred, refusing all my attempts to make the two engage in conversation, but that's a separate issue). When the time came for him to leave, I did my best to be brave, to not run after him and make him stay with me. Harry took the Map and took my dad under the invisibility cloak and guided him out of the castle.

I slumped against Fred's shoulder, happy and sad all at the same time, enjoying the brief moment of alone time while everyone else was distracted by George's outrageous and spot-on impression of Professor Snape. I sighed heavily when my boyfriend slipped his arm around me, kissed my forehead and chuckled, "I don't think your dad likes me very much."

"He'll come around," I said, smiling warmly, "He's a bit hung up on the 'caught in bed together' thing for the moment, but I'm sure it'll pass."

"Ya," Fred agreed, blushing, leaning in close so that no one else could hear when he whispered, "I'm sorry for almost dragging you out of there topless. I wasn't exactly in my right mind."

"It's ok," I laughed, "I understand, given the circumstances. Just don't expect to be forgiven so easily if it ever happens again."

He smiled, leaned in and kissed me quickly. "As for the dream," he began, hugging me closer when I immediately tensed, "We'll talk about it when you're ready, ya?"

I sighed, smiling weakly, murmuring, "Soon. Just not today."

"Anything you want, love," Fred responded.

The door opened, but instead of Harry returning, in walked Cedric Diggory.

Kind of floored by the unforeseen presence, I didn't react right away, not even when he saw me from across the room, waved, and came over to take a seat on the couch.

"Happy birthday," the Hufflepuff stated genially, flashing that pretty-boy smile that had won the hearts of the majority of Hogwarts's female population (and probably a good chunk of the male one as well, if we're being honest).

"Thanks, mate," I laughed in reply, still confused but unconcerned, "Didn't expect to see you here."

He shrugged, perfect brown hair falling in his perfect gray eyes. "Harry invited me," the sixth-year declared, "Sorry I'm a few minutes late, but some of us still go to class on April Fool's." Turning his smile to Fred, reaching out to shake my boyfriend's freckled hand, Cedric added, "Even if venturing out on the holiday has proven to be a bit hazardous in the past."

Chuckling wistfully, Fred remarked, "I forgot about that. Third year, right? You got caught in the cloud of fog that turned everything all sparkly."

"Oh ya!" I crowed, cackling with the memory, "One of our earliest and best, right, Fred? Merlin, McGonogall was pissed."

"Ya, well," Cedric answered, chuckling with an exasperated grin, "She can hardly be blamed. Our entire class was picking glitter out of strange places for the next two months."

Fred and I put our heads together and snickered deviously.

"Anyways," Cedric chuckled, producing three wrapped gifts from the inside of his book bag, "These are for you guys and George. It's just some sweets from Honeyduke's and joke stuff from Zonko's. Oh, and it's from Cho, too. She wanted to come but couldn't make it. She said to say 'happy birthday' from her."

Grinning brightly, I chirped, "Make sure and tell her thanks from us."

"Sure thing," Cedric answered, relaxing into the couch, summoning a sandwich from the table across the room. He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, then pried open the bread. "Is this..." he questioned uncertainly, "Spaghetti? A spaghetti sandwich?... Is that a muggle thing?"

"No," I laughed, winking brightly, "It's a Stella Black thing."

xxXxx

When asked later about his unexpected addition to the guest list, Harry merely shrugged, said, "I heard Fred and George talking about how you got along well with Cedric. And Cho walked over while I was inviting him... I told them not to come until after I knew Sirius would be gone. Was that ok? I mean, you don't mind about Cedric coming?"

I smiled, cuffed Harry lightly on the arm. "Of course not," I told the boy, "Cedric's one of the few people at Hogwarts I actually like interacting with. And Cho's pretty decent as well, if only for having shot you down so thoroughly."

Harry offered a shy smirk, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "Good," he said, "I hope you had a good time."

"I had a great time," I replied, figuring, what the hell, and pulling my startled godbrother into a quick hug. "Thanks," I told him as I pulled away, ruffling his messy black hair, "It was a nice surprise. And don't worry about Fred being pouty. He and George are going to throw themselves a rager in the common room later anyways, and there was no way you could've known Dad was so furious with him."

"Ya, that seemed a bit much," Harry chuckled, "Probably had something to do with the 'caught in bed' comment, though no one seems to know anything about it..." He smirked expectantly.

With a bright grin, a slight blush, I explained, "Oh, it's a long and X-rated story. Nothing to concern yourself with. Just focus on not getting assassinated or otherwise maimed until next we meet, alright?"

"Alright," he laughed, looking pretty darn chipper. Proud of himself, I realized. He'd set out to do something sweet for me and had succeeded. There wasn't anything wrong with the boy being pleased over a job well done.

"Stella," Remus called, returning from what he'd said was a quick errand but had quite obviously been a stern talking to with my boyfriend out in the hallway. My old uncle clapped Fred on the shoulder (only a little harder than necessary), let him move to my side and put his arms around me. "We should get going," Remus went on, not exactly thrilled at my boyfriend's proximity but not outwardly incensed either, "Molly is expecting us for an early dinner."

"Our own mother didn't even invite us home on our birthday," George complained as he wandered over with a giggling Ginny slung over his broad shoulder, "I feel slighted."

"You know very well she just doesn't want to encourage your delinquency," Ginny laughed, torso hanging limply down her brother's back.

"Besides," I added helpfully, "McGonogall owled about you and Fred dropping prototypes into the puddings on the Slytherin table last week. I just barely talked your mum out of sending a Howler. You might want to give it a bit more time before a face-to-face meeting."

George nodded somberly, quipping, "Good call."

"Stella," my old uncle said once more, fond but impatient, "It really is time to go."

Huffing, I sighed, "Fine." I hugged everybody and was only saved from being thrown over George's shoulder by Fred's decision to throw me over his own. While shrieking with laughter and helplessly kicking my feet, I decided that my sixteenth birthday was pretty much my favorite so far.

xxXxx

Weeks passed without much fanfare. I studied for my OWLs, sat for a few more photoshoots with Ozzy, and did my best to see the twins as often as possible, which was hard since Remus actually followed through on that threat to keep a closer eye on my company and whereabouts; it seemed like my old godfather was suddenly always around, always following me, always running interference on my being alone with Fred. The worst part was that I couldn't really be mad at Remus, especially because he kept insisting that he just missed me and wanted to spend more time together.

Tonks returned from her mission and also made it her duty to constantly hover, which was also difficult to be upset with since my cousin was fun and funny and extremely helpful with preparing for the OWLs. I think people forget just how smart she was, but the girl didn't get sorted into Ravenclaw and accepted into the Auror program for nothing.

"They almost didn't take me," she told Remus and me one afternoon while we were enjoying a lunch of Chinese takeout on the floor in my godfather's one-room flat, "I had all the right qualifications and pretty much perfect marks, but I almost failed their silly 'background and character' check."

"Because you're related to my dad," I declared, frowning into a box of greasy fried rice, shrugging noncommittally, "Well, I guess it's a good thing that I'd rather eat broken glass than work for the Ministry in any form."

Chuckling, Tonks added, "It's an even better thing that you're all independently wealthy now. Gives you a bit of wiggle room as far as career choices are concerned."

"Speaking of which," Remus murmured quietly, "Do you have anything in mind for when you leave Hogwarts?"

I shrugged, stabbed my chopsticks into the rice a few times and stated, "Not really. Ozzy's still owling me almost daily for modeling jobs. Apparently, I'm his muse."

Tonks sighed dreamily. She'd met Ozzy the day before and was a bit smitten. I had yet to break the news that, short of metamorphing herself a set of permanent boy parts, she didn't stand a chance with the handsome photographer.

"That's... nice," Uncle Remus said, looking uncomfortable both at my declaration and my cousin's reaction.

"Or I could always make the twins hire me," I offered, just because I knew the thought would disturb Remus greatly.

As expected, he couldn't seem to keep himself from frowning. "Do you really think that would be the best use of your talents?" he questioned carefully.

"My particular skill set is uniquely geared toward the mischief arts," I teased, "Chaos is in my blood, after all."

Uncle Remus sighed, apparently deciding to pick his battles for the time being. He had, at some point, warded Fred out of his own bedroom, which we had recently discovered when the boy tried to fly in through the window in the middle of the night and nearly fell to his death; I had only been speaking to Remus again for a few hours, so I guess he decided not to risk that by badmouthing my oldest and dearest friends.

Sensing that a change in subject was needed, Tonks cheerfully inquired, "So, Stel. What're your plans for the rest of the day?"

I shrugged, answered, "Probably just more studying. I was thinking about heading to Hogwarts though. Harry's been training with Ron and Hermione for the third task. It's kind of fun to watch. Plus, he's really terrible at Shield Charms. He wrote that Fred told him I was pretty decent at them and asked if I would give some pointers."

"Good idea," Tonks said, snagging one of the fortune cookies I'd discreetly charmed, "I'll go with. I've been meaning to visit Mad-Eye. I haven't seen that old bastard in ages." She popped the dessert into her mouth, frowning down at the slip of paper that had been inside. "There are birds in your future," she read, arching a thin eyebrow in my direction, "Wear a hat and don't look up."

I giggled, and, after a moment, Tonks did, too, shaking her head and remarking, "You're bloody bonkers, Stel. Honestly, Remus, I don't know how you managed to raise this little hellion without being driven completely up the wall."

The old man smiled at me, fondly. And then he smiled at Tonks, also fondly... maybe even more fondly... and an entirely different kind of fondly... what? "She's certainly kept my life interesting," Remus murmured, winking. Winking! My godfather did not wink!

Tonks giggled again, but this giggle was also different, more of a twittering girly thing. And I detected a deepening of the pink hue in her hair (the metamorphmagus version of a blush, perhaps).

I stared at the two of them, back and forth over and over again while they paid attention to nothing but each other...

And I felt like I might be missing the punch line to a really good joke...

xxxxxxxxxx

My inspiration streak continues! And reviews will only feed the best (hinthint) :)