Chapter 5: Carl, Tallulah, and Ethel

"Oops, sorry!" Hermione said as she bumped into a broad chest on her way out of Diagon Alley and into Muggle London.

"That's okay," a familiar voice said. Her head snapped up, her eyes widening as she looked at the smiling face of Lee Jordan.

"Lee! Hi!"

"Err... hey?"

"Are you busy? I have something you might like to see."

He quirked an eyebrow. "No, not really. I was just headed home."

"Great! Um, hold on for just a second."

After fishing her mobile out of her handbag, she scrolled through her contacts list and hit the button to call Secret Lover. Crossing the fingers of her free hand, she tapped out out a nervous rhythm on the pavement with her left foot.

"Hey," George said after the fourth ring. "Slight cooking crisis going on here. Tried to make a jacket potato. I think I angered it. I was just about to ring you."

"Oh, yeah? D'you want to go out to eat somewhere?"

"Sure. Pizza?"

"Could do. How do you feel about someone else coming with us, though?"

"Err. Depends. If it's Crookshanks, then no. I don't trust him."

She laughed. "It's Lee Jordan. I just ran into him in Muggle London — literally."

"Really? How is he?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

"Um. All right. I guess that would be okay. Yeah. It's probably about time I had someone else to bother aside from you, anyway."

"Oh, please. You can't get rid of me that easily."

He chuckled warmly. "Good to know. So, I'll see you soon?"

"Yep. I'll be there in a minute."

"What's going on?" Lee asked as Hermione ended the call.

Grinning, she extended her hand towards him for side-along apparition. "Want to find out?"

"Just so you know," he said as he linked his arm with hers, "this is all very strange and cryptic."

"It'll make sense soon. I promise."

Lee stumbled when they arrived in George's living room, almost toppling into the coffee table. "Full points for not splinching me," he said, "but your landing could use some work. Now, what's this big mystery, then?"

"Hey, mate," George said with a sheepish smile and a wave from the sofa.

Lee's mouth fell open. "Hey. Wow. Where the hell have you been? You don't fire-call, you don't write... I was beginning to think I was some girl you were trying to avoid."

"Well, you are awfully pretty..." George cut off with a laugh when Lee punched him in the chest. "Come on, let's get something to eat."

-oOo-

"All right," Lee said, sloshing a generous measure of vodka into his glass and stretching his legs out on George's sofa. "Never have I ever had an erotic dream about one of my former teachers."

"In my defence," Hermione said, pausing to take a drink, "I was an impressionable little second year, and he was famous. And I got over it as soon as I knew him."

"Lockhart?" Lee said, guffawing. "Oh, that's brilliant. And hey, George? What are you waiting for?"

"You are an utter, utter bastard," George said, though he smiled as he lifted his own cup to his lips.

Hermione snorted. "Which professor?"

Shuddering as he swallowed the alcohol, George shook his head. "Nope. Not telling."

"Oh, come on. I won't tell anyone. Although... was it Professor Snape? I might tell people if it was him."

George's voice came out as an indignant yelp. "Fuck no."

Making eye contact with her when George wasn't looking, Lee mouthed, Sprout. She clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles.

"Your turn, Hermione," George said.

She winced. Letting George and Lee talk her into playing this ridiculous game ("for old times' sake," they'd claimed) was a mistake. Not only had she never done anything interesting, she couldn't think of anything good to say she hadn't done.

"Um," she said. "Never have I ever had sex."

There. That was the best she could do. To her complete surprise, although Lee took a gulp of his drink, George did not. Instead of responding to her questioning look, he just smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

"Enough of this," Lee said. "We're getting completely pissed, and Hermione has barely touched her drink."

"You could've said things like, 'Never have I ever been a prefect,'" Hermione said.

"Damn." Lee frowned. "I guess we could've. Oh well, never mind. Let's watch something on this what's-it-called—"

"TV," George said.

"Yeah. That."

George switched the television to an old film from the '80's. Hermione smiled. Watching something she'd seen dozens of times before was soothing, in a way. Like revisiting a place from her childhood. While Lee hogged the sofa, Hermione shared the floor with George, resting her head on his shoulder and nursing her drink. Nestled against him, comfort and warmth seeped in, making her eyelids droop. Just as she started to nod off, a snore rumbled through Lee's chest and startled her awake.

"Good Lord," she whispered. "How did you manage any sleep when you shared a dorm with him?"

Laughing, George slung an arm around her waist. "Silencing Charms work wonders."

"I bet." With a long yawn, she stretched her arms over her head. "What time is it?"

"About two, I think."

She groaned. "Too late for the Tube, then. I'm way too drunk to apparate home. Maybe the Knight Bus—"

"Don't be silly. Just stay here." Without waiting for a response, he grabbed her hands and yanked her to a standing position. "Come on. I'll loan you something to wear to bed."

A few minutes later, she found herself tucked into George's bed next to him, wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of his boxer shorts. A bright smile spread across her face as George wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to his chest.

"Herm—Herma—hell, your name is too long," he said. "I'm giving you a new one. From now on you are Carl."

"Carl?" she said with quiet giggle. "Shouldn't it be Carla?"

"Nope. Too many syllables. Plus, you're sort of like one of the blokes, you know? That's why I like you."

What was it with Weasleys being blind to the fact that she was female? Fighting to suppress her irritation at his innocent, drunken proclamation, she fidgeted with the hem of the blanket.

"Oh?" she said. "Do you cuddle like this with all of your male friends?"

"Mm. No. Only the ones with breasts. Don't tell Lee. He'll end up getting implants in order to get some of my snuggles."

"In high demand, are they?"

"Yup." His chin bumped against the top of her head as he nodded.

"I wonder if either of your brothers were aware I was male when they kissed me."

"Well, Ron has never been that perceptive. He..."

His body jerked with sudden realisation. Propping himself up on one elbow, he studied her face. He had left the curtains open, so the combined glow of the moon and the streetlights illuminated his bemused expression.

"Wait, brothers?" he said. "Plural? Who came after Ron?"

"The other brother was before Ron. It was my first kiss, actually."

"Oh! When you said your first kiss was with my brother, I just assumed Ron."

Hermione breathed out a soft laugh. Misleading him had been entirely intentional. She'd always wanted to know if George had been told about that night.

"Okay, wait," he said. "Don't tell me. I bet I can guess. I already know it wasn't me. I'd remember kissing a bloke, I think."

"You might not remember right now. You're fairly drunk. In a roundabout way, you just referred to yourself as your own brother."

"Pfft. Pedant. Okay, okay. Let me think. Was it Percy?"

"Absolutely not."

"Charlie?"

"I barely know Charlie. I don't think I've even been alone with him."

After a long pause, his eyebrows shot up. "It wasn't Bill, was it? He's married!"

"Of course it wasn't Bill!"

"Good. I'd have to kick his arse for taking advantage of you. He's too old for you, mate."

Tapping her fingers together, she waited for him to come to the obvious conclusion.

"It was Fred?"

"Ah, he finally catches on."

"You kissed Fred? When? Where? Why? How did I not know about this?"

With a wistful smile, she launched into the story of her first kiss — a secret that, until that moment, she'd only shared with Fred and a few portraits.

-oOo-

Muttering to herself, Hermione stalked through the halls of Hogwarts. Who did Ron think he was? He had some nerve, getting angry with her for going to the Yule Ball with Viktor.

A flash of red hair caught her attention. Apparently, she wasn't the only frustrated person out and about that night. Fred Weasley paced back and forth at the end of a nearby corridor, mumbling some rather colourful insults about Ludo Bagman.

"Oh!" he said, startling at the sight of her. "Hey, Hermione. Couldn't sleep?"

Afraid her voice would crack and betray her if she spoke, she settled for shaking her head.

"Yeah, me either." Frowning, he took a closer look at her face. "Hey... are you crying?"

She shrugged, neither confirming nor denying it.

"Is this about your little row with Ron?"

"You heard that?"

He chuckled. "I think all of Gryffindor Tower heard that."

"Well, that's just great. Perfect end to a perfect evening."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she joined him in leaning against a nearby windowsill and staring out at the empty, frozen grounds.

"What, Viktor didn't show you a good time?"

"I left before he really had much of a chance. Ron came along and ruined everything."

"Yeah." Rubbing the back of his neck, Fred rocked onto his heels. "I'm afraid he has a talent for that."

As they stood there in companionable silence, her thoughts drifted to the future, against her will. Everything seemed destined to go pear-shaped before too much longer. Ever since she saw the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup, she'd been worried that something malevolent and inescapable was on its way. Harry would be involved because he was Harry, which meant she would be dragged into it as well. The Yule Ball had been her unofficial last chance to have a perfect evening as a normal girl whose life wasn't constantly in peril. As unrealistic as she knew that expectation to be, she still wanted it.

"I was really looking forward to tonight," she said. "Stupid Ron."

"Hmm. Well, the night isn't over yet. Maybe we can salvage it."

Wrinkling her nose, she scuffed her shoe against the flagstone floor. "I doubt that."

"Aww, come on. What did you think would happen?"

"You'll make fun of me."

His face lit up with a mischievous grin, but he kept his tone as serious as a Weasley twin could manage. "Would I do such a thing?"

"Only on days ending in Y," she said, laughing when he began poking her shoulder again and again. "Oh, fine. I wanted to wear a pretty dress and dance with a handsome boy and just generally have a nice time. Nothing too exciting. I did that, but then Ron spoiled the memory entirely by being a prat about the whole thing."

"What else?"

"That's it."

"I don't believe you. There's something else."

With a grumble, she ran a finger along a crack in the windowsill, avoiding his questioning gaze. "I wanted—" her voice dropped to a whisper, "—I wanted to maybe have my first kiss."

The instant the words left her lips, she cringed. She'd known Fred Weasley for four years, and he had never be one to pass up an opportunity to tease someone. Giving him ammunition was foolhardy, at best.

"Hmm." He tilted his head to the side and studied her for a few seconds before flicking his wand and muttering a spell. Her flannel pyjamas shimmered and transformed into a long, silky, midnight blue gown.

"Wanna dance?" he asked, extending an arm with his palm held up.

"What?" she said, still caught up in staring down at the dress.

"Dance. You know, you hold onto someone else and move your feet to music. You must've read about it at some point." Lacing his fingers together with hers, he placed one of her hands on his shoulder and rested his own on her waist. "I've made it my personal mission to make your memory of this evening a good one. You already have the dress, designed exclusively by Monsieur Fred. Next comes the dancing."

"There's no music."

"Pfft. That hardly matters, but if you absolutely must have music, I can sing."

"I thought you were trying to make my night better, not worse."

Fred laughed. "Ouch! Well, we'll just have to dance silently. I refuse to astonish you with my vocal stylings after such a heartless insult. At least you have an exceedingly handsome partner."

With that, he twirled her around and around until her dizzy laughter rang through the hall. His already broad grin widened when a nearby portrait started humming a waltz. She imagined they looked more than a bit silly — her in a formal evening gown and him in worn pyjama trousers and one of his old Weasley Christmas jumpers — but it didn't seem to matter. She couldn't hold in her half-frightened giggle when he dipped her low enough for her hair to brush the ground.

"That's more like it," he said. "You should always be smiling when you're dancing with a Weasley twin. No more tears wasted on my idiot brother tonight, yeah?"

Grinning and breathless, she nodded. He kept spinning her, making her wonder how Angelina managed to keep up with him all night.

"Thanks," she said when the portrait's song came to an end. "My evening is officially salvaged."

"Excellent. Just one more thing."

Before she could begin to guess what he was plotting, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her full on the mouth. She froze, eyes wide open in surprise. Smiling against her lips at her response (or lack thereof), he pinched her side. With a belated gasp, she snapped out of her stupor and began to kiss him back.

As first kisses went, it seemed decent to her inexperienced lips. Awkwardness and bumping noses abounded; and neither of them harboured any warm, fuzzy feelings for the other beyond friendship; but affection welled up in her chest with each brush of his soft lips.

Fred ended the kiss with an exaggerated "mwah" noise, smirking down at her. "There we go," he said. "All requirements fulfilled. How did I do?"

"Um..."

"Speechless? I have that effect on many women." He chuckled at the roll of her eyes this comment inspired and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry. Ron will come around eventually and see what's right in front of him. Look on the bright side: if he had an ounce of sense and had asked you to the ball before Viktor did, you would have probably gone your whole life not knowing what it was like to kiss me."

"Yes, however would I have managed that torment?"

"I don't know how any woman manages it. Come on, since I'm your fake date for the evening, I should be a gentleman and escort you back to the common room."

-oOo-

Years later, when Fred died, Hermione clung to the memory of that night like a life preserver as grief swept her away. Even after he was gone, thinking of that unexpectedly beautiful night never failed to make her smile.

"I still have the transfigured dress," she said, smiling when George brushed a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I never changed it back into pyjamas. I gave away the robes I wore to the actual Yule Ball in a silly post-war charity auction, but I don't think I could ever part with Monsieur Fred's dress."

George's expression softened, then abruptly shifted into outraged shock. "That rat bastard had insider information on our bet! Hmph. I win by default." Shaking a fist at the ceiling, he smiled at Hermione. "I never would've guessed that he snogged you. Why didn't you go a bit easier on us when you became a prefect? Was he that bad?"

"Tsk. He was fine. Perfectly satisfactory. But it wasn't as though we fancied each other. I wasn't about to let you two prey on innocent little first years, even if Fred did give me one perfect evening."

"Then he clearly didn't kiss you properly. If I had kissed you, you would've fancied the hell out of me."

Hermione's face flooded with heat: a blush that remained blessedly colourless, thanks to the dim room. "I guess we'll never know if that's true, since I'm apparently male now," she whispered.

Cuddling closer to her, George planted a soft kiss on her cheek. "I'm glad you stalked me, Carl."

"Me too."

-oOo-

When Hermione dragged herself into George's kitchen the next morning, she found Lee sitting at the table with his head in his hands and his long dreadlocks falling over his face.

"Morning," he said, his voice groggy and thick with sleep. "Didn't realise you'd stayed the night." To punctuate the statement, he added a raised eyebrow and a hungover attempt at a grin.

"Yeah. I was a bit too drunk to apparate without splinching myself."

"Uh huh. So, tell me, why are you the only one who knows where George is?"

"We told you. I ran into him at a bookshop."

"Mm. I see."

After gulping down two glasses of water, Hermione rummaged through George's cupboards for something to take the edge off of her aching head and churning stomach.

"G'morning," George said through a yawn as he padded into the kitchen.

"George, you absolute Muggle," Hermione said. "No hangover relief potion?"

He laughed. "Afraid not. Here—" Reaching into a drawer, he produced a box of paracetamol, "—Muggle potions will have to do. Oh, by the way, Lee, Hermione's new name is Carl."

"Ugh," she said. "I was hoping you wouldn't remember that. Well, fine. From now on, I am going to refer to you as Tallulah."

"Suits you, mate," Lee said with a snort of laughter.

"Doesn't it just?" Hermione said. "Anyway, I should head home. Lee, it was nice to see you again."

"Same here, Carl."

"Oh, not you, too. Fine. If you're going to be that way, then you're Ethel now."

George grinned. "Suits you, mate."