AN: I suddenly just squeezed out this chapter yesterday, and honestly I don't really know what's going on in it. It (hopefully) has some fun parts, though. And for some reason the word count here on FF is very different from the word count on the Word-document, so I'll just hope it's two different ways of counting words. It all seems to be here, but I can't be bothered to read too notice, sorry.

They ate mostly in silence, then dragged themselves up to their assigned rooms, or as Bill and Luna, took the Floo to their own homes. The only one who seemed to be in any mood was Fred, but even he was quieter as usual, even polite as he wished everyone a good night (or day, the sun had climbed quite a lot) before going up to his twin.

It was well into the afternoon before Nox woke again, her head feeling too heavy, but already ashamed of how she was acting like a guest; sleeping away half the day wasn't her idea of polite. She quietly made her way down to the bathroom, it didn't seem like that many others had got up, either, so at least that spoke in her favour.

"Oy!" Pushing open the bathroom door, still half asleep, she was met with a primeval shout and Charlie trying his best to cover himself with the pink towel he had been drying his legs with.

"Sorry!" She had already slammed the door shut again and was making her way hastily down the corridor before the blush began. Mentally hitting herself for not knocking, and Charlie for not locking the door, she nearly stumbled on the top step of the next stairwell, but a strong hand caught her elbow.

"Hey, wait." Charlie spun her around and positioned himself in front of the stairs. He had got the towel around his waist, firmly fastened with a knot, but not being in a mood meet his eyes Nox was stuck staring at his chest. "I'm sorry, too."

"Well, you should've locked the door," she pointed out, crossing her arms and hoping to be let past as soon as possible.

"Yes, that too," he admitted hastily. "I'm sorry about that kiss, and... you know."

"What kiss?" she shot back, raising her eyes to his in an icy glare. It seemed to be relaying a bit too much on coincidence, but she was half-convinced he had meant her to see him naked to... God knows, show off the goods?

"Oh, yeah, right, we forgot about it," he answered after a moment of bewilderment and let her pass. She didn't hesitate, but after the first four or five steps stopped her stomping, George for one would probably still be sleeping and if it kept it out of her hair he could stay that way for a few more hours.

Passing the twins' old room she couldn't pretend not to hear the deep groan coming from there. A nightmare was a thing that could wake George and didn't quite fit into her plans, so she couldn't help herself not to take a peek through the half-open door.

The next sound George emitted would've been a purr if he was a cat, and Nox hastily retracted as she saw the blonde straddling him, she had no desire to watch or hear that. Having taken half a step past the door, she stopped again and leaned back, assuring herself of what she had seen. Luna seemed to be fully clothed, and George's feet were sticking out at the bottom of the bed, toes pointing downwards.

"A bit lower... There," George groaned as Luna leaned most of her body weight on her hands and his sore back. Rolling her eyes, Nox continued quietly downwards.

The kitchen smelled of bacon and eggs, and by the look of the number of pots and pans Mrs. Weasley was in the process of preparing, would soon smell of a lot of other things, too. She gave Nox a distracted smile and waved her wand towards the tea pot, which quickly poured a cup, two sugars were added by the sugar bowl, a tea spoon jumped up from the drawer and the cup itself soared over to where Nox was about to sit down. She smiled slightly and wrapped her hands around it before looking out the window.

There were a few clouds in the sky, but for the moment it was sunny, and the chickens seemed to take the most advantage of the weather, if anything substantial could be said for the way they were pecking at the ground and rolling in the dust of the driveway. A squirrel zoomed up and down a birch, probably trying to figure out how to jump to the next tree, and an old Toyota passed slowly on the road, the driver not seeming to notice anything short of a tank.

Nox raised the cup to her lips and blew slightly before taking a sip, but her instincts decided to throw the cup halfway across the room as what looked like a ball of really old, really filthy rags hit the window. She cursed under her breath as the hot liquid hit her hand before looking up at whatever it was that had been hurled at the window.

"Errol!" Mrs. Weasley had hurried over at once, but instead of offering assistance to Nox she was now leaning over her to open the window and get the miserable creature inside. Stuck partly under the other woman's bosom, Nox plainly had to wait a few seconds before getting a look at what Errol was, and then got to wonder why Mrs. Weasley was cradling the ancient owl in her arms like a baby.

"You're really getting too old for this," the redhead was cooing as she placed Errol on the counter next to the tea pot and relieved him of the letter he was carrying. "I keep telling you, we could get a new owl, someone to take the longer runs, but no, you don't want to retire, you want to keep going till you drop dead on my doorstep!" She placed a few owl treats in front of him while opening the letter and read it while absentmindedly stirring one of the pots. Errol emitted a weak squeak before gobbling up the treats.

"What a... lovely bird," Nox muttered half-heartedly before going to clean up the tea mess. She grabbed a rag from the sink and quickly mopped up the tea before going to refill the cup. "Er... Is he supposed to look like that?" She had stopped in front of the counter, looking suspiciously at Errol.

"Oh, don't worry, he'll be fit as a fiddle in no time," Mrs. Weasley assured her without looking up.

"Uh-huh," Nox said dubiously and poked the owl, who didn't respond. "It's just... He's purple," she said at last, getting Mrs. Weasley to look up from her cooking, her eyes going as big as saucers as she saw her beloved owl, now resembling more of a feathered egg-plant.

"FRED!" The bellow was so spontaneous Nox didn't have time to cover her ears, just cringe. Mrs. Weasley was furiously looking around the room before a transparent head emitted through the wall above the stove.

"You called, mother dearest?" Fred said in his sweetest voice and instinctively ducked the towel she threw at him. It landed on the pan with eggs and bacon, and Nox snatched it away before it got time to start burning.

"What now?" Charlie came slowly through the door, taking in the scene while digging his hands further down in his pockets.

"That!" Mrs. Weasley screeched and pointed a quivering finger at Errol, who just looked stupidly around himself and not having the slightest clue as to what was going on.

"It's harmless, really," Fred defended himself with and came all the way through the wall.

"He's purple!" His mother was giving him a very dangerous look and Nox figured Fred should count himself lucky he was already dead. Charlie scratched his chin slowly before going over to inspect the owl.

"He seems all right," he said slowly after having checked the owl's vital signs, eyes, and having carefully pulled out its wings to inspect the feathers. "At least not worse than he normally is," he added quietly.

"What did you do?" Mrs. Weasley demanded, boring her eyes into Fred. "Was it the owl treats?"

"Might have been," Fred answered airily. His mother snorted before scooping the owl up into her arms again.

"You haven't an ounce of respect for anything, not even other living creatures!" she exclaimed before stomping up the stairs.

"What? That owl is three inches from death's door, if that much," Fred said to her back, before looking at his brother for help. "I'd be doing us all a favour by giving him a nudge."

"I hope for your sake he doesn't stay purple," Charlie said and crossed his arms.

"Of course not, he'll be back to the regular, boring mud-brown in a few hours, a day tops," Fred answered before seeming to notice Nox. "Why are you just standing there? Start eating before you starve to death on the spot!"

"Don't worry," she answered dryly before sitting down with her freshly filled cup of tea.

"Well, it looks like it's self-serve here now, so holler if you want anything," Charlie told her before getting himself a plate and loading it up with eggs, sausages, bacon, toast, beans, and a few other things Nox wasn't able to identify under everything else, before sitting down opposite her.

OoO

George and Luna didn't show up for another few hours, but Nox was glad when they finally did and she didn't have to keep constantly dodging Fred. Molly had also come down again, having installed Errol safely in her bedroom, and resumed the cooking, making sure there was a steady supply of fresh, warm dishes.

"Nox, you're eating like a horse," George noted when she got up to refill her plate for the third time. He himself was only poking at the half-finished eggs on his plate, but had eaten at least half a bread's worth of toast.

"Or a dragon," Charlie added humorously while nibbling on a sausage.

"Well, this food is actually edible, in contrast to everything you cook up," Nox answered and loaded another couple of strips of bacon on her plate.

"At least my cooking resembles food," George muttered back and stretched his neck. Luna placed her hand on his leg and gave him a quizzical look, but he responded with a reassuring smile. He was still horribly stiff in every muscle in his body, but it was slowly getting better. In a week's time he might be able to walk without groaning.

"Mum, have you heard anything from Bill?" Charlie called into the living room, where Molly was busy untangling her knitting.

"Yes." She came marching in, knitting in one hand and a ball of string bouncing behind her, and began patting over the clutter on the counter before coming over the scrap of paper Errol had delivered earlier. "He said you could come to dinner if you have the time, but to keep the twins far away from him," she said with a knowing smile as she handed over the note. Charlie read it quickly before nodding.

"Doubt I'll have any room for dinner, but I'll stop by them," he said before continuing to eat.

"Keep going like that and you'll blow up," Fred told him before hovering over, his nostrils expanding as he tried to smell the food. "Even if Mum's cooking is good you're over-doing it."

"It's not canned," Charlie said dryly, "and I'm gonna use the opportunity for all it's worth even if it's the last thing I do."

"You living and your stupid senses," Fred mumbled before casting a look over at Luna and George. "And your even stupider urges. Oy, lovebirds!" he added louder.

"Oy, pea brain!" George responded without looking up.

"Oy, Nox doesn't have anything to do with this," Fred countered and snickered. She gave him a cold look before turning back to her plate.

"Fred, your brother is still tired from last night," Luna told the ghost, her large eyes boring into him. "Please give him some peace and quiet."

"What, you're getting too old for an all-nighter? Wimp," Fred leered back.

"An all-nighter which consists of breaking every bone in my body twice? Yeah, I'm a tad too old for that," George answered hard.

"You'll be screwed when you're actually dead," Fred replied sourly before vanishing with a crack! George let his fork fall down on his plate with a sigh before looking to where his twin had been.

"Ass," he muttered.

"He'll be back," Luna said assuring and tried stroking his hair, but he leaned away from her.

"Good, then I can exorcise him or something," George said before slowly getting up and hobbling towards the stairs. No one tried to stop or follow him, they just stared numbly in different directions.

"I'll go talk to him," Charlie said at last and stood up.

"No, I'll try," Nox offered. "You go and see if you can find Fred."

"You sure?" Charlie gave her a doubtful look.

"All I can do is fail, and then we can switch," she answered before getting up herself and heading for the twins' room. She found George lying on the rumpled sheets of his bed, staring up in the ceiling and giving no sign he heard her come in. She slowly sat down on the other bed and looked at him, waiting for either him to acknowledge her presence or some great opening line to come to her. The former happened first.

"He's an immature idiot," George muttered at last, but didn't move his eyes from the rafters.

"He is," Nox agreed. "But so are you."

"Gee, thanks."

"You know what I mean. You're a good team." She began pleading the sheet between her fingers.

"He's all over the place, all the time," George said and adjusted himself on the old mattress.

"And you just want some peace and quiet?"

"Sort of," George muttered and fell silent for a while. "I mean, he's a ghost, most people feel weird talking to him. Lee is okay with it, though, Angelina too, to a degree, but everyone else just sees the ghost. Except me, I still treat him the same." Nox nodded and chewed her lip. Fred had become too dependent on his twin, while George needed a bit more room than he was given.

"Can't you talk to him about it?" she suggested, but heard how lame it sounded the moment the words were out.

"I could, and he would throw another tantrum," George said matter-of-factly. "And really, with Mum and Bill and everyone throwing a fit over the whole..." He waved his hand vaguely in the air. "You know, werewolf thing, I don't need him to go off on..." His voice died out completely and Nox noticed he had knitted his brows.

"It's not Fred bothering you," she concluded. "Or at least it's not Fred not giving you room."

"Those giant flabby things on the side of your head, they just look like ears, right?" he retorted sarcastically. "I just told you he's acting like a puppy desperate for attention all the freaking time."

"True enough," she admitted. "But it's the werewolf thing that's really nagging on you."

"Oh, I'm not allowed to worry about turning into Scooby Doo from Hell every full moon?" He hoisted himself up on the elbow and gave her a narrow look. She just raised an eyebrow and gave him a knowing look.

"You know who Scooby had to turn to every time things got hairy? Shaggy," she responded after a while.

"Noted," he answered dryly. "I'll put in an ad in The Prophet: Part-time canine in need of full-time stoner."

"Idiot." She couldn't help but smile slightly either way. "Fred is your Shaggy."

"That's a crappy analogy," he answered and fell back on the mattress. "Besides, Fred is too much of a pain to be Shaggy. He's probably more like that god-awful puppy, what's-its-name—"

"Scrappy."

"Scrappy. And when it comes to eating, Charlie is a much better Shaggy. And I don't have a speech impediment, so I'm not Scooby, I'm that handsome blond guy." George nodded to himself.

"Fred," Nox supplied.

"Blimey, would you shut up about him? If I didn't know better I'd think you fancied him." Despite the joke he still sounded annoyed.

"The blond guy's named Fred," she clarified, getting annoyed herself.

"Well, good for him," George said. "Now I'm him. I'm Handsome Fred."

"Okay-dokey, George is Fred. And Fred is George." Nox was rewarded by a cold look, but didn't let that faze her. "If you would just listen to yourself for two seconds you could have solved all of this."

"Nope, I don't have a Mystery Machine," George answered stubbornly and she rolled her eyes.

"Talk to Fred about the werewolf thing, okay?"

"Why would I?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Because... Because it's nagging a hole in your respective skulls!" she exploded and stood up. "And you're both too thick-headed to see it. Or too scared."

"Hey, I'm not scared of anything." He sat halfway up.

"Then talk to him about it," she said with a shrug. George glowered at her for a moment before lying back down.

"We don't need to talk about it," he muttered.

"Fine, but it still wouldn't hurt."

"You want us to hug and cry a bit about it, too?"

"If you feel the need to," she responded.

"We don't." He was staring intently up at the rafters, looking like he was about to explode. She sighed and slowly sat down beside him.

"Fred has been acting weird today," she said, although she wasn't sure she wanted to admit she noticed changes in his behaviour. "Could you try to talk to him?"

"Why?"

"Because it'll be pretty damn impossible working a case if you two aren't admitting each other's presence," she said dryly and stood up.

"So you still want to work with us?" The edge of his mouth turned up slightly.

"I'm going to keep working with you," she answered carefully. "Have I given the impression of anything else?" George just shrugged. "I'll go down and see if Charlie's found him."

It turned out Charlie hadn't found anything more than a branch pulled back to whack him in the face, and was currently holding a towel to the bleeding cut on his cheek. Nox told him George would probably talk to his twin when he showed up, but she wasn't sure of anything. Charlie nodded and removed the towel to let his mother inspect the cut. It had almost stopped bleeding and she administered a healing charm on it before telling Charlie to get cleaned up.

OoO

George stayed in bed for a while longer before hauling himself up and went to the window. Leaning a bit forward on the window sill, but not putting too much weight on his sore arms, he could recreate the view he knew from his childhood, when he was a few inches shorter. It looked more or less the same, except his parents had finally gotten around to removing the rotting tree root on the edge of the property where the garden gnomes liked to make their nest. It had to be a while ago, too, because the hole had began filling with grass and wildflowers.

He slowly let his eyes follow the edge of the forest, hardly paying attention to the memories the different parts of the backyard awoke, but feeling reassured that they were there anyway. This was his home. No matter how long he might live in Weasley Manor or any other place it would never mean as much to him as the Burrow.

A fog about six feet high was slowly moving eastwards beyond the tree line, and he lifted his hand in a silent holler, not sure if it would be noticed. It was, and a minute later Fred stood before him.

"What now, lemon face?" the ghost jeered.

"Lemon face?" George said confused before getting it. "Ah, because I'm so sour." He gave a small smile and sat down on the bed.

"I didn't know lycanthropy lowered your IQ," Fred said and began wandering aimlessly around the small room, poking at this and that.

"Yeah, about that," George said quietly and looked down at the floor. "Don't worry about me, okay?"

"Worry? I never worry," Fred said and set off a small smoke bomb on a shelf.

"Sure you don't," George muttered and waved away the cloud of smoke drifting towards him. "I just need to get into the habit of turning into..."

"Turning into Bill?" Fred suggested and kept poking on the stuff on the shelves.

"Into a werewolf," George made himself say. "And I need some time to recover, okay? Just take it easy for a day or two."

"And snog Lovegood's socks off," Fred said. George's eyes nearly popped out of his head and he didn't have time to duck the open vial Fred threw at him. It left a green and smelly stain on his shirt.

"Are you jealous?" George asked surprised.

"'Course not," Fred replied offhandedly.

"Good, because I still love you more," George said seriously before grinning. Fred didn't respond and just kept fiddling with an unfinished dream catcher that was meant to actually capture dreams.

"It's not fair," he said at last. "You're a werewolf and everyone breaks their backs bending over backwards to pamper you."

"And?" George said carefully.

"And I'm a freakin' ghost," Fred finished in a deflated tone. George blinked a few times and wasn't sure how to respond.

"It takes a while for them to get used to it, too," he tried at last. "And this was just the first time. The next time we can just be at the mansion or shop or something."

"You'd break everything in the shop with that tail," Fred muttered. "And probably start a fire."

"Fine. But it'll just be the two of us, okay?" George looked hopeful at him.

"And Noxy," Fred said with a smile. "I mean, she got off far too easy last night. Think of all the things we could have done to her." His mouth widened into a grin.

"You're gonna be the death of her," George answered with a laugh.

"Death ain't so bad," Fred said and looked at his twin. George gave him a one-sided shrug. "It's a bit... tasteless, though."

"Mum's cooking," George realised and nodded. "We're hurting your delicate sensibilities by enjoying everything you can't."

"Get stuffed," Fred answered and turned back to the dream-catcher, but didn't seem too offended.

"We'll go home and get cracking on the next case, eh?" George suggested, but didn't get an answer before their mother poked her head in through the door.

"I've turned on the bath water for you, dear, it'll be ready in a few minutes," she told George with a soppy smile. "That'll be nice, a warm bath."

"Yeah, thanks," he answered and fought the urge to pull a face. Fred was looking intensely at him, having trouble keeping in his laughter.

"I only added a bit of lavender oil, but there's other oils and bubbles in the cabinet above the sink," she kept going, and Fred began shaking with suppressed mirth.

"Uh-huh, fine," George said and shot his twin an annoyed look.

"I hope it's not too warm, but I wanted—" Mrs. Weasley kept going, but George stood up suddenly.

"Fantastic, Mum!" he exclaimed. "I'll get going right away so it doesn't get cold." He pushed past her and began taking off his shirt while going up the stairs.

"Goodness, she never stops!" Fred exclaimed and succumbed to the laughter once they were both safely behind the locked bathroom door. "I bet she would come running if you said you needed help drying off or getting dressed afterwards."

"Well, I don't," George said tersely and sucked air in between his teeth as he lowered one foot into the tub. "She's planning on boiling me alive," he muttered and turned off the hot water tap before stepping in with the other foot. He groaned a few times while sitting down, his muscles didn't agree with bending down to grab the edge of the tub, but once submerged he let out a long breath and relaxed.

"You're about as manly as Ginny," Fred muttered and came to sit on the edge of the tub.

"That's not too bad," George replied dreamily. "Turn off the cold water, would you?" Fred obliged before sticking his fingers down in the water. He couldn't exactly feel the heat of it, but he felt something. They stayed like that for a while, both dragging their fingers slowly through the water; George under the surface and Fred never deeper than the last joint on his fingers and never close to George's body.

"You let them baby you," Fred said at last. George slowly opened his eyes, seeming to have almost fallen asleep.

"I'm sorry, but there's not that much babying you can do for a ghost. Besides, if I hadn't gone here myself now Mum would either have escorted me or yelled at me for being ungrateful." George watched the small currents his hands were making.

"Well..." Fred didn't have a retort and just stared at his twin's knees. "Your legs are hairy," he noted after a few moments.

"Want me to begin shaving them?" George quipped back.

"No," Fred muttered and slowly let his eyes travel up the length of George's body, taking in every crease and shadow, in the end staring into his twin's eyes, but then quickly looking away .

"You miss having a body?" George asked quietly.

"Yeah," Fred admitted in a horse whisper.

"We'll get that fixed, don't worry." George tried giving him a reassuring smile, but it shook.

"What, so I can get fat and grey-haired like you?" Fred responded with a familiar gleam in his eyes.

"Hey, I don't have any grey hairs!" George objected.

"You do, right... there!" Fred said and pointed a cold finger at his twin's chest. In a matter of seconds they were both in the tub trying to wrestle each other, and George shouting every time his skin came in contact either with the icy ghost or the water that seemed scalding in comparison.

AN: This is most likely the end of the story. I would have liked to have included Charlie and Bill having another talk, but the story is not about them, it's about the twins, so I'll leave it here.