Hello, lovelies! It's been the longest week of my life…My best friend has been in the hospital (She had her baby a bit early!) and we have a ton going on this weekend, so I'm posting my weekend update a little early. I am very excited about GoF — the insanity is about to begin, folks. I do have a rough outline of how I want this year to look, but most of it is absolutely wide open, so I'll be as surprised as you all at what happens LOL. If there is anything in particular you are looking forward to, let me know!

RoonieTunes: I saw that you reviewed on Forgive and Forget. Since I can't respond there at the moment and I know you read this story, I'll respond here. It has been awhile since I've updated that story, but I have been thinking about finishing it once I'm done with this series! I appreciate your support, always!

readerfaye: Petunia…I can't with her. I haven't touched on her relationship with Nessa much at all, except in passing, but there is no love lost between them. Umbridge might also be my most hated character. She's got real issues too.

Bookcozy: You guessed that Lupin was her godfather and I was ecstatic LOL. I also enjoy the amusement of James telling Sirius he wouldn't be the best choice, knowing he had a daughter himself. Sirius does not strike me as the type to relate as easily to a girl as Lupin. The romance now…I am so excited! George and Nessa melt my insides.

Chapter Three

Nessa let George lead them deep into the "garden" off to the side of the house and out of view of their dinner party. She had to carefully ignore the smirks that Bill and Charlie were giving each other, and the shrewd expression that Mr. Weasley watched them with. When she'd met his stare briefly, he merely winked at her and distracted his wife with a conversation about their plans for the next evening.

Nessa watched in amusement as Crookshanks and Peanut chased their own gnomes across the pathway ahead of them, and didn't speak much as George led her further away from the group. The garden was still overrun with weeds and the gnomes were clearly running rampant again, although the twins had said over dinner that they'd de-gnomed the garden twice since they'd been home. The gnomes were currently giggling madly and popping their heads up from the bushes randomly to confuse the two cats chasing them. George rolled his eyes as one of them popped up so hastily that he toppled onto the path in front of them and Peanut pounced.

"Ruthless," George said with a grin as the cat toyed with the gnome mercilessly, her tail flicking sharply from side to side. "Just like her mother."

"Ha. Ha," Nessa said sarcastically, rolling her eyes at him. "Maybe I ought to go back to the dinner table if you're going to be so rude to us."

George merely grinned at her and broke to the right, continuing quietly until they reached the pond that the Weasleys and Tori had frequented on hot days. Nessa had not had much time out here herself, as the children tended to want to play Quidditch more often than they wanted to swim, but she loved the area. Being near water was calming for her, personally, and the croaking of the frogs, coupled with the occasional fish breaking free of the water, made her relax even more. The fireflies were coming out, flashing a greenish-yellow all across the area, and cattails grew around the perimeter of the lake in several places.

George placed a hand on the small of her back and led her toward the dock that was clearly held together by magic in the same way that their home was. She followed him toward the end, taking a seat on the edge and sliding her flip flops off to skim her toes across the water gently. George took a seat next to her.

"You're quiet this evening," he said, leaning back on his hands and looking at her inquiringly as she looked out across the water.

"I'm always quiet," she said with a pointed look. He grinned at her and raised an eyebrow. Rolling her eyes, she said, "It's nothing serious. It's just…always odd being away from Privet Drive at first. The peace is…unsettling."

"Unsettling," he repeated, eyeing her oddly.

She snorted.

"Don't look at me like that," she said, half-smiling. "It's unsettling because I'm not used to it. Harry being who he is, it sort of feels like the calm before the storm."

"Have you been sleeping?"

Her head whipped to look at him in surprise at the question. His body language and expression appeared calm, but she could see the glint of concern in the blue of his eyes.

"I — yes," she said slowly.

It was only a partial lie. He'd asked if she'd been sleeping, which, of course, she had been. Whether it had been restful sleep was an entirely different story. Feeling peaceful at the Burrow was more than just being away from her relatives. It was also because they were around other wizards; she'd been on edge much of the summer with some insane concern that Voldemort would come bursting through the doorway at any moment and it had made sleeping particularly difficult.

For one thing, any noise had woken her in a panic. And once she'd woken up with her heart racing, it was hard to fall back asleep. She'd taken to sleeping with her wand under her pillow, grateful, at least, that the Dursleys had allowed them to keep their things in their room this summer. She'd have snuck her wand out otherwise, but it made it less difficult. Although, truthfully, it didn't make her feel much safer. She'd have gladly gotten expelled if the alternative was her brother's death, but she wasn't entirely sure she had the magical means to truly defend him.

Not in a house full of Muggles anyway. It was odd that she could still feel that Hogwarts was the safest place Harry could be, considering all of the ridiculous things that had happened to him while he was there.

"You're a horrible liar, Vanessa," George said seriously.

She huffed and rolled her eyes at him.

"I am not," she said defensively. "And I'm not lying."

He snorted at her.

"You should have started with the 'not lying' portion then," he said sagely. "Besides, I've been lying all my life; I can sniff a lie from a mile off. Plus, you look like Dudley punched you in both eyes."

"Your sweet nothings could use some work, George."

He grinned at her lopsidedly and she had to look back out across the water to avoid blushing fiercely. He chuckled in satisfaction and she rolled her eyes at herself; she had to get herself under control. At this point, her reaction to him was simply embarrassing. She'd have thought the snogging would have dimmed the intensity or something.

"You're beautiful as always, sweetheart," he said sincerely. She huffed under her breath because the words did not help with the butterflies at all. "Now try again."

She gave him a hard look that most people would normally have taken as a sign to leave her alone, but George, of course, was not most people. Instead, he seemed to find the look amusing, which was only mildly irritating. Rolling her eyes, she huffed.

"I've been sleeping, alright," she said. "Whether I've been sleeping well is an entirely different story."

He didn't say anything to her for a long moment, watching as she continued to skim the water with her bare feet. The water was surprisingly cold given how warm the day had been and she was staring unnecessarily hard at the ripples her feet made across the water.

"There's been nothing going on, love," he said quietly. "Not even a whisper."

She knew this too. She'd subscribed to the Daily Prophet over the summer. There had been nothing mentioned of anything odd. Nothing about Wormtail or Voldemort at all. No odd signs of power or odd deaths. The only odd thing that had given her pause was the disappearance of Bertha Jorkins. She was a relative nobody, if Percy and Mr. Weasley were to be believed, but the fact that she'd gone missing after a trip to Albania when Voldemort had been rumored to be hiding out there for years now…

It didn't sit well with her, even if nothing else seemed astray. But how did she explain that to George? One person going missing was hardly reason to start panicking.

Though, truthfully, she'd begun panicking about his return much before that.

"I know," she said finally. "I've been watching. It doesn't change anything about what Professor Trelawney said."

"I never thought I'd see the day when you believed so fully in Professor Trelawney," he said seriously. She didn't either, honestly, but her anxiety made it difficult not to fixate so wholly on this one thing that had the potential to send her spiraling. "She could have been wrong, you know."

"I do," she said quietly, sighing heavily and leaning back to mimic his own position. "But Peter — he needs a protector now. Or so I assume is his thought process. And it — I don't know. I just have a very bad feeling. Constantly. Maybe it's just my anxiety, but it — the whole stupid thing makes me want to rip out my hair. And that was before Harry had that stupid dream —"

"What dream?"

She sat up again, running a hand over her face in frustration.

"Saturday, he — he woke me up after a nightmare," she said slowly. "His scar was hurting again and he said — God, George, he said that Peter was with Voldemort and they were talking about how they'd killed someone. How they wanted to kill Harry. Something about killing some Muggle, maybe? I can't even remember anymore. The whole thing feels like a nightmare."

George was silent for another long moment and she was too nervous to look over at him for his reaction. The entire thing sounded absurd — a cursed scar that burned of its own accord, a dream that could be real…

She wouldn't blame him if he looked at her like she was insane for believing her brother that it could be something real. But she had spent too much time trusting her brother's instincts in this regard and she was not in the place to question him now. He'd looked as frightened as she had been. She knew for a fact that he had been as anxious about the events of last year as she was.

"Does Harry think it was just a dream?"

She was surprised by the steadiness of his voice, and she snuck a glance at him then. He wasn't looking at her like she was insane, which was helpful, although he looked a little more pale than he normally did. It was not a welcome sight, considering.

"No," she said. "He wrote to Sirius about it, but I haven't seen anything about it in the Daily Prophet. Although, he was a Muggle, so I doubt it would be." She laughed derisively. "The whole thing could just be some random fluke, I suppose. But Harry seems convinced it isn't."

George blew out a large breath and pushed himself up to sit straight beside her.

"Harry will be safe at Hogwarts," he said firmly. She gave him a skeptical look, but refrained from disagreeing out loud. He snorted, reaching forward to brush her hair back behind one of her ears. "Okay, let's say, he's safer at Hogwarts than he would be with the Muggles," he amended, grinning when she rolled her eyes and made a noise of forced agreement. He rested his forehead against hers, brushing a thumb over her cheek soothingly. "We'll worry about the rest when we get there, Vanessa. You need to sleep. You've always been a right pain in the arse if you don't —"

"Have I hurt you in some way, George?" she said in mock irritation at yet another insult, pushing him away from her with a hand to his shoulder.

He laughed good-naturedly, and the sound of it brought an unwilling smile to her face and relaxed some of the tension in her shoulders.

"Course not, love," he said, pulling her back to him again. She huffed in an attempt to pretend she was still irritated with him, but, if his chuckle was anything to go by, she was doing a very poor job. "Although, we do have to leave at the crack of dawn tomorrow and a part of me has been dreading it since you got here. Fred and I have bets to see whether you or Tori loses their temper first."

She snorted indelicately.

"I don't know why I bother with you —"

"Lies, darling," he said pompously. "Aside from the snogging, Sirius made it clear it's because of the red hair. Potters have a thing for that apparently."

Nessa laughed under her breath, despite the fact that her face was warming again. She ignored it and tried to think of something smart to say back to him in order to deflect from her embarrassment.

"It has nothing to do with your hair —"

"No?" he said, pulling back enough to grin at her before schooling his features into an exaggerated thoughtful expression. "My good looks then?"

"No," she lied, opening her mouth again.

"My sense of humor?"

"George —"

"It's the muscles, isn't it?" he said, clearly enjoying her growing embarrassment and irritation. "I told Fred that it had to be that."

"Really?" she said sarcastically, looking him up and down. "I don't see any muscles at all. I bet Ron could beat you at arm wrestling —"

He sobered quickly and pointed a dangerous finger at her.

"You take that back."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing and flicked her hair over her shoulder pointedly.

"No," she said coyly. "Besides, it's none of those things. I'm simply biding my time, you know —"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Is that so?"

She made a noise of affirmation, nodding sagely.

"Yes," she said casually. "Once you and Fred get rich from your joke shop, it won't matter that you're some horribly ugly, weak bloke because I'll be rich too and can have whatever I want, see. I've worked the whole thing out in my head."

He smirked at her, eyes twinkling, and made a mock appreciative noise, as if this plan were one of the best he'd ever heard. She just kept smiling sweetly at him, looking dreadfully serious. If he didn't know her any better, he might have believed it. But there was a sort of cockiness to her expression that made him grin lopsidedly at her again. It was not lost on either one of them that this grin flustered her, and she blinked once, but refused to let the warmth in her cheeks overwhelm her.

But that just wouldn't do.

He leaned forward slowly and brushed his nose against hers. It took a great deal of effort on her part to keep her expression from wavering and to keep breathing regularly. It was a chore to remain unaffected when he was this close to her. He smelled different than usual — like the outdoors somehow, like a man, although she had not a clue what that really meant. And something uniquely his own — that stupid gunpowder and cinnamon scent that made her head spin a little.

And she might have been joking earlier, but he really was very attractive. It seemed a bit unfair, really. His hair was longer this year, although not by much, but it was enough to make her want to run her hands through it. His hair looked unfairly thick for a man and it was as ginger as it had always been. He was taller somehow, and every time he got this close to her it did something to her insides that he was so much bigger than she was. And the stupid jeans and T-shirt he was wearing were horribly distracting, and did nothing to hide how fit he was. Whether because he enjoyed being so or because of Quidditch, she found she didn't particularly care anymore.

It was the eyes, though, that distracted her so much. Aside from that grin, anyway. They were such a pretty blue color, but it was more the way he looked at her. As if she were the only person around, as if he had nowhere else in the world to be. He looked at her like he was hanging off her every word, scanning her face as if looking for a clue into what she was feeling. Add that boyish twinkle, that mischievous glint that made every single one of her bad boy fantasies seem like child's play and she was hopeless.

He was so, so very distracting. But she had too much pride to give him any indication that she thought so, so she kept taking slow, steady breaths instead to control the giddiness she felt at having him this close.

She hated that he looked so in control at the moment. She clearly needed to try harder to be alluring because he —

His finger curled around her chin and tilted her face up until his lips were hovering above hers. Her thoughts derailed immediately and she couldn't stop herself from tensing in expectation, even as he hovered there for a great deal longer and made her body vibrate from the effort it took to repress her reaction to him.

"Joke's on you, love," he breathed softly, his lips brushing against hers so softly she almost thought she'd imagined it. Her hands tightened on her thighs to keep herself from making a very whiny, needy noise in protest at his teasing. "You can have whatever you want whether I have a joke shop or not."

And before she really had any time to consider the implications behind that statement, he had closed the distance between them completely and kissed her again. It took everything within her to swallow the relieved noise she was tempted to make that he'd stopped teasing her for her snark.

She'd somehow convinced herself over the summer that she'd been exaggerating how good at this he was. That maybe she'd just been so distracted by the fact that she had finally kissed George Weasley that she had given him too much credit where kissing her was concerned. Or maybe that she was so smitten and hormonal that she was making it all up in her head.

But, no, of course it wasn't any of those things. He may have been distracting, but he knew precisely what he was doing. Made very apparent by the grin against her lips when she gasped and gripped his wrist tightly in her hand when he angled her head further back so that he had better access to her mouth. Under other circumstances, she might have grumbled at him for his arrogance, but she was already too caught up in kissing him again and he did not appear anywhere near ready to break away from her.

Not that he ever had. She'd always expected that George would be more…unrestrained, a bit more rough. Maybe because he was so chaotic and devil-may-care on the regular, thriving in a fast-paced environment. Always ready to throw himself into harm's way and unafraid to play dirty. But every time he'd kissed her so far, it had felt more like he had all the time in the world and had no inclination to be doing anything else, even though he was clearly the one in control. His grip was firm, but gentle, if maybe a bit possessive. The mixture of gentle and dominant made her simultaneously melt against him, and want to make him be a little more demanding.

He was going to drive her mad one of these days, which was only somewhat irritating because he was so in control of his own reaction to her, which she tried not to be too insecure about.

When he finally pulled away from her, she swayed toward him a little and made a horribly whiney noise in the back of her throat. Before she could be too embarrassed about how needy it had sounded, George chuckled lightly and leaned in again to place a lingering kiss on her lips to comfort her, before kissing her on the nose and pulling back to look at her.

Some of her concerns about feeling so out of control of her reaction to him when he seemed so calm were slightly mollified the moment she got a full look at him. He was panting as much as she was, and his cheeks were flushed, his eyes darker than she'd noticed they usually were as he loosened his hold on her waist. It took her a long moment to loosen the hold she still had on his other wrist, but when she did, she was rewarded with him lacing his fingers with hers and pulling her hand up to brush a kiss to her fingers.

"I've been thinking about doing that all evening," he admitted, grinning at her when she cleared her throat awkwardly. "You're very distracting."

She tucked an errant strand of her hair behind her ear with her free hand, staring at their hands in interest. Her thoughts were coming back to her now, slowly, and now that they were alone — away from his family, which was not lost on her — Ron's surprise at their relationship was suddenly rearing its ugly head again.

She couldn't tell if it was really worth bringing up to him at the moment because everything about the moment was calm and happy and she liked the bubble they were in at the moment. Not to mention, she knew she was likely overthinking the whole thing, letting her insecurities try to pick apart what this was to him. Maybe it wasn't worth mentioning.

But George had always been too good at reading her silences.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he said, running his thumb across the back of her hand, and looking at her in concern.

She shook her head and smiled weakly at him.

"Nothing, I'm just overthinking," she admitted.

He looked at her for a long moment, weighing the words as if trying to determine if he needed to push her to talk. She looked across the pond again to avoid the intensity of that gaze because she knew that he could see through her as easily as he could his own twin. And she was horrible at hiding the emotion on her face.

When she refused to look back at him, he sighed and released her hand, moving her face gently back to look at him with a finger under her chin. His face was expectant now, even though his eyes still had that gentleness she'd come to expect from him when she was in her own head too much.

"What's wrong?" he repeated expectantly.

She bit her lip anxiously as she looked at him. God, she hated talking about how she felt. Especially if she couldn't determine if she was being irrational or not, if she was overreacting or not. But George wouldn't stop asking her if she didn't say something now and it was probably better than keeping it inside, wasn't it?

"I just — it's nothing really, George," she stuttered awkwardly, her heart racing from the prospect of voicing her feelings about the entire thing. What if he told her she was overreacting? What if he said they weren't dating? Because God, that would be horribly awkward. When she didn't say anything else, he raised his eyebrows at her and she released a long breath, fighting the urge to fidget. "It's just that — well, Ron said that you didn't tell anyone about — er — about us — or this — or —"

God, she really should have considered how to say it. Us sounded like she was assuming that they were dating — which, she supposed she was — but if that wasn't what he thought was happening then it sounded a bit presumptuous.

Why was she like this?

He seemed to take pity on her anyway, thankfully.

"No one has asked, so I haven't said anything," he said.

This did not make her feel better, truthfully. For one thing, why would anyone have asked unless he'd brought it up himself? Unless they just made it a general practice to ask each other every day if they were seeing someone. She could see Mrs. Weasley doing that, she supposed, but definitely not the rest of them.

"Right," she said, trying not to sound even more confused about the situation than she already was. "I — So, uh, what exactly is going on between us then?"

The question seemed to take him by surprise.

"I'm sorry?" he said, blinking at her as if he didn't understand the question.

"I mean, I don't understand the whole thing, you know," she said, the urge to ramble welling up inside her. "Well, no, that's not true. I thought I did, but then Ron acted like it was a big surprise and then I got confused, or in my head, or — well, it doesn't matter what you call it, I guess — except that I got confused. Are we dating? Are we just snogging? Oh God, is this —"

"Vanessa, love, take a breath," he interrupted suddenly, laughing a little in surprise at how suddenly she was devolving into whatever anxieties she was creating in her head. "Of course we're dating. What would make you think we weren't?"

"I — well, you never said we were, you know —"

"Ah, yes," he said, his face blossoming with a smirk larger than she'd ever seen. "I forget you like everything to be overtly obvious. I should have sent you a notary or something. A contract, maybe —"

"I'm regretting this already," she muttered to herself. The words caused him to laugh and chuck her under the chin playfully. She swiped him away from her with an eye roll. "So, why didn't you tell anyone then?"

He gave her a soft look, leaning back onto his hands again and shrugging casually.

"Because Mum will lose her head, for one thing," he said as if this were obvious. "Start asking a load of questions that range from sweet to deranged. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing, but I —" he paused and eyed her expression carefully. " — I wanted you to myself for a bit longer, is all."

"Oh," she said dumbly.

It was…well, it was actually rather sweet, if she were being honest, and she sort of hated herself for thinking that it had been anything less than that. It wasn't as if he hadn't been straightforward about the entire thing before now. Now that he was saying it aloud, she felt a little ridiculous for doubting it at all.

"Love, if you want me to tell them, I'll go over there right now and snog you in front of the whole lot of them —"

"George," she huffed in irritation, smacking him with the back of her hand in reproach. "You could just tell them —"

"Bit boring for me, actually," he said. "Wouldn't really knock their socks off."

"Yes, what a shame that would be," she said sarcastically.

He grinned at her, but sat up and gave her a serious look.

"I'm serious," he said. "If you want me to tell them, I will."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," he agreed. "I'll give you whatever you want, Vanessa."

The fact that he was serious about that made her entire stomach swoop and the butterflies were wreaking havoc again. She would not survive a relationship with him if he kept saying things like that, she was sure of that.

"Is that what you want, Vanessa?" he said when she said nothing.

"I — er —" she stuttered, trying to get any of the previous thoughts to come back to her again now that he'd derailed them completely. "Er — your mother — would she let us be alone together?"

"Not a chance, love," he said with a grin. "Even with Fred and Tori there, she'll likely pop in on us."

Nessa hesitated at the confirmation. She'd sort of known that that would be the case, but it seemed particularly unsavory at the moment. For one, it would embarrass her every time. For another, the four of them had always spent the majority of the summer holed up in the twins' room, and she and George had been friends first. The idea of being checked on as if they were children was hardly appealing.

"Maybe we shouldn't say anything then," she said hastily, causing him to snort in amusement. "You know, for the time being."

He made an agreeable noise and leaned forward to give her another lingering kiss.

"Whatever you want, sweetheart," he said quietly.

She rolled her eyes at the smug look on his face, but before she could say anything, a voice from behind them interrupted her.

"Disgusting as this is, Molly says it's time for bed."

Nessa jumped at Tori's voice, and flushed red at having been caught in their intimate moment. George, however, looked as though he could care less, kissing her on the cheek and pulling himself to a stand. She followed, slipping her shoes back on her feet, and looking at a smirking Tori leaning on one of the trees a few yards back from the pond.

"Stop smirking like that, Victoria," she said with an eye roll.

"Disappearing off into the garden together," Tori said in a mock swoon. "How romantic," George snorted and pushed her forward onto the path. Tori glared at him in response. "If you don't want her to find out about the two of you, you're going to have to be more covert, you know. I had to make up some ridiculous story about how Nessa loves to look at the gnomes at night."

Nessa gave her an incredulous look as George laughed.

"That's the best lie you could come up with?"

"It's better than what Fred wanted to tell them," she said indignantly.

"No, I don't want to know," Nessa said quickly before Tori could advise what ridiculous thing Fred Weasley had said about their disappearance. George grinned as if he knew exactly what ridiculous thing his brother could have thought up.

When they arrived back at the dinner table, everyone looked up at them from their seats at the table and Nessa hoped very strongly that it was dark enough to hide the flush on her face. Bill and Charlie shared a grin with each other that they ignored, as well as the suspicious look they were receiving from Mrs. Weasley. She severely wished she'd asked Tori if it looked like she had been snogging George before they came back out here. If she did, no one said anything to either of them.

"You really should be in bed, the whole lot of you — you'll be up at the crack of dawn to get to the Cup. Harry, Nessa, go ahead and leave your school lists out. I'll get your things for you tomorrow in Diagon Alley. I'm getting everyone else's. There might not be time after the World Cup, the match went on for five days last time."

"Wow — hope it does this time!" said Harry enthusiastically.

"Well, I certainly don't," said Percy sanctimoniously. "I shudder to think what the state of my in-tray would be if I was away from work for five days."

"Yeah, someone might slip dragon dung in it again, eh, Perce?" said Fred.

"That was a sample of fertilizer from Norway!" said Percy, going very red in the face. "It was nothing personal!"

"It was," Fred whispered to Harry and Nessa as they made their way back to the house. "We sent it."

It felt like she'd barely slept at all by the time Mrs. Weasley woke her the next morning for the Cup. Nessa groaned and sat up as Mrs. Weasley moved to wake the other three girls in the room. It was still dark outside, barely a hint of morning light in the sky outside her window. Tori's incessant swearing was exactly how Nessa felt at the moment and she didn't blame her one bit for being so upset. Hermione, who normally might have said something about the swearing, didn't appear to have the energy herself to scold Tori either.

The four of them dressed in silence, too tired to talk to each other at all. Nessa grumbled as she forced her legs through a pair of skinny jeans and a green short sleeve T-shirt over the tank top she'd worn to bed. She wasn't familiar with either of the teams playing and didn't have any representation, but she'd asked Tori and the twins what color she was supposed to wear and the three of them had unanimously said green for Ireland. She hadn't bothered asking why. After she slid on her tennis shoes — the safest bet considering she wasn't aware of how much walking they'd be doing — she fell face first on her bed in an attempt to get more sleep.

She heard Tori and Ginny snort, but she didn't bother saying anything. Truthfully, it felt as though she were going to die. Her eyes were heavy and dry, her stomach was not pleased by being up so early at all, and her body felt like it weighed like a boulder. George could make whatever jokes he wanted about her being grumpy in the morning because this was quite possibly the worst thing she'd ever had to endure, dramatic as that was.

Nessa startled when the door opened again and Mrs. Weasley stood in the doorway, hands on her hips.

"Let's go, you four," she said sharply. "You haven't got time to lounge about."

Tori grumbled something rude under her breath and Nessa did not have the energy to scold her for it. She didn't even have the energy to argue. She pushed herself to her feet and grabbed the Hogwarts letter she'd never opened, opening it roughly and pulling out the list of materials she needed. The letter was much heavier than it normally was, but she didn't have the energy — or time based on Mrs. Weasley's tapping foot — to look through it. It was O.W.L. year, so whatever it was, would likely only stress her anyway.

She could hear the boys talking in the kitchen as the four of them finally made their way down the stairs and through the family room.

"Charlie had to take the test twice," the voice of one of the twins, although she couldn't tell which. "He failed the first time, Apparated five miles south of where he meant to, right on top of some poor old dear doing her shopping, remember?"

"Yes, well, he passed the second time," said Mrs. Weasley, marching into the kitchen ahead of them amid hearty sniggers.

The twins grinned at Nessa and Tori, who were both looking pale, drowsy, and scowling heavily, as if the merriment around them were grating on their nerves. Tori made a vulgar gesture at the both of them when Mrs. Weasley wasn't looking and Mr. Weasley cleared his throat pointedly.

"Percy only passed two weeks ago," said George, bringing the group back to their earlier conversation before anyone could irritate Tori further. "He's been Apparating downstairs every morning since, just to prove he can."

"Why do we have to be up so early?" Ginny said from next to her, rubbing her eyes.

Mrs. Weasley sat bowls of porridge in front of each of them and Nessa wrinkled her nose in distaste, pushing hers away from herself before the smell of it could cause the nausea to worsen. She could never eat on this amount of sleep, and her body had gotten used to waiting several hours after she'd awoken to eat breakfast since she'd started running with Fred the previous year. The thought of eating so early after she'd awoken almost made her want to be sick. Instead, she rested her head on Ginny's shoulder and closed her eyes as Mr. Weasley explained that they'd have to walk a bit.

"George!" said Mrs. Weasley sharply, and Nessa jumped, pulling air through her nose sharply as she looked over at George curiously.

"What?" said George, in an innocent tone that deceived nobody.

"What is that in your pocket?"

"Nothing!"

"Don't you lie to me!"

Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at George's pocket and said, "Accio!"

Several small, brightly colored objects zoomed out of George's pocket; he made a grab for them but missed, and they sped right into Mrs. Weasley's outstretched hand.

"We told you to destroy them!" said Mrs. Weasley furiously, holding up what was unmistakably more Ton-Tongue Toffees. "We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your packers, go on, both of you!"

It was an unpleasant scene; the twins had clearly been trying to smuggle as many toffees out of the house as possible, and it was only using her Summoning Charm that Mrs. Weasley managed to find them all. Toffees zoomed from all sorts of unlikely places, including the lining of George's jacket and the turn-ups of Fred's jeans.

"We spent six months developing those!" Fred shouted at his mother as she threw the toffees away.

"Oh, a fine way to spend six months!" she shrieked. "No wonder you didn't get more O.W.L.s!"

Tori huffed angrily, glaring at Mrs. Weasley as she went after the twins as they stormed out of the house. The others got up from the table to follow and Nessa dallied longer than was necessary as the others made their way out the door. Opening her rucksack, she muttered a spell under her breath, watching Mrs. Weasley anxiously. She'd only just closed the bag and thrown it over her shoulder hastily when Mrs. Weasley turned around, looking for her.

She was still glowering, but her face softened a little as she approached. She gave her a large hug.

"Hurry along, dear, you don't want to get behind," she said kindly.

Nessa nodded and took off at a jog across the yard, breathing a sigh of relief under her breath as she came to stand next to Tori, who was in front of the group. She and the twins were walking so fast that Nessa felt like she was nearly running to keep up. After several minutes of the twins' glowering and Tori's concerned side-eyes, Nessa huffed and grabbed onto Fred and George's arm and tugged slightly.

"Will you two slow down?" she huffed, her heart racing. "I'm getting a stitch in my side from running next to you."

They snorted, but slowed their pace. Neither of them spoke still and they were clearly still too angry to be their normal, happy selves. Nessa shared a look with Tori and cleared her throat pointedly.

"So, uh, how are we getting to the Cup exactly?" she queried.

"Portkey," Fred groused.

"What's that?" she said in confusion.

"They transport wizards from one spot to another," he said shortly.

Nessa rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I got that, believe it or not," she said, shoving him hard so that he stumbled and nearly tripped over a tree stump. Tori covered her grin with a hand and George snorted as Fred spluttered. "How do they work, dimwit?"

Fred straightened and stopped long enough to turn and look at her with a glare.

"Is this your way of cheering us up?" he said. "Pushing me around and insulting me?"

Nessa raised an eyebrow.

"Is it working?"

Fred stared at her for a long moment as if he had no idea how to respond to that at all, but she could see the corners of his mouth twitching.

"No," he said stubbornly, turning on his heel and continuing walking. "Although, watching you run to keep up with us did help a little. Have you considered having Madam Pomfrey give you longer legs? I'm sure there's a potion for that."

"Have you considered taking your head out of your —"

"Portkeys are charmed objects," Tori said loudly as the twins roared with laughter. Nessa stuck her tongue out at their backs and Tori snorted. "Unobtrusive things, you know, so Muggles don't go picking them up and playing with them…stuff they think is litter. You touch one when it's time to leave and it'll take you to the destination."

Nessa did not particularly like the sound of that. Floo was hard enough and made her want to be sick. Whatever a Portkey was, she was sure, it wouldn't feel much better; she already wasn't feeling the best as it was. She was also severely wishing she'd worn a sweater instead, despite knowing it would surely get warmer as the day progressed. It was chilly out now and the moon was still out, a soft greenish tinge along their right was the only sign that daybreak was looming closer.

They trudged down the dark, dank lane toward the village, the silence broken only by their footsteps. The sky lightened very slowly as they made their way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to deepest blue. Her hands and feet were freezing and she cupped her hands over her mouth several times, attempting to warm them with her breath. Mr. Weasley kept checking his watch.

They didn't have breath to spare for talking as they began to climb Stoatshead Hill, stumbling occasionally in hidden rabbit holes, slipping on thick black tuffets of grass. Each breath she took was sharp in her chest and her legs felt wobbly and weak, as if she'd never learned to walk on them. When her feet hit level ground, she put her hands on her knees in an attempt to get her breathing to slow.

"I'd have thought with all that running with Fred, you'd be able to handle a measly hill," Tori teased with a grin, although she too looked a bit winded.

Nessa glared at her.

"I haven't been running over the summer," she said defensively. "Hard to when the Muggles think I'm going to turn the town into goats or whisper to the neighbors that I'm a witch."

The twins snorted, neither of them looking at all winded. She hated them both for that.

"Well, don't expect me to go easy on you, munchkin," Fred said, grinning wider at her responding snarl. "Watching you collapse on the castle steps is a favorite pastime of mine."

"I hope you break your legs playing Quidditch this year."

Before Fred could respond, Mr. Weasley was cresting the top of the hill, panting, and wiping his glasses on his sweater.

"Whew," he panted. "Well, we've made good time — we've got ten minutes…"

Hermione came over the crest of the hill last, clutching a stitch in her side.

"Now, we just need the Portkey," said Mr. Weasley, replacing his glasses and squinting around at the ground. "It won't be big…Come on…"

They spread out, searching, although Nessa hadn't a clue what she was supposed to be looking for. She hoped it would be obvious. They had only been at it for a couple of minutes, however, when a shout rent the still air.

"Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it!"

Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

"Amos!" said Mr. Weasley, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted. Mr Weasley was shaking hands with the man that Nessa had seen in the train station last year at Christmas. The twins grumbled their displeasure when they made the same realization and Tori grinned excitedly, looking between Cedric, Nessa, and George.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," said Mr. Weasley. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

Cedric said hi to them all, looking through them one by one. When his gaze landed on Vanessa, she tensed a little. They hadn't exactly ended the last year on good terms and she hadn't responded to the letter he'd sent her over break, so she wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to do at the moment. She needn't have worried, though. He grinned widely and stepped forward to wrap her in a hug, lifting her clear off the ground.

"You haven't been avoiding me, have you?" he said in her ear as she laughed in surprise.

"I might have been," she said truthfully as he set her back on her feet and stepped back.

He was seventeen now, and just as tall and handsome as she'd remembered. She smiled at him warmly, trying very hard not to remember how awkwardly they'd left things before summer break. He seemed to guess her train of thought anyway, and squeezed her hand in comfort.

"Look, we can talk when we get back, yeah?"

She nodded, releasing a breath that made her chest feel lighter. He relaxed a little, giving her a grateful look and then looked behind her at Fred, George, and Tori.

"Hastings," he said, grinning at her. "Weasleys."

"Diggory," Tori said. "Fancy seeing you here."

Fred and George didn't say anything to him, glaring at him instead. George was looking between Nessa and Cedric with something akin to displeasure. Cedric raised an eyebrow and gave her a curious look.

"It's been a rough morning," she said honestly, giving George a sharp look. He rolled his eyes, but stopped glaring at Cedric.

"All these yours, Arthur?" Amos Diggory was saying, looking at them all good-naturedly.

"Oh no, only Tori and the redheads," said Mr. Weasley, pointing out his children. He spotted Nessa and then chuckled. "Well, most of them anyway. You remember Vanessa, I presume?"

Mr. Diggory met her eye and chortled.

"Ah, yes, quite difficult to forget," he said. She smiled and gave him a nod of greeting. "She's a friend of yours, isn't she, Ced? A firecracker, that one."

Cedric grinned and winked at her. She rolled her eyes.

"This is Hermione, friend of Ron's — and Harry, another friend —" Mr. Weasley continued the introductions.

Nessa appreciated that he'd introduced him as a friend of Ron's, and not as her brother, but Mr. Diggory knew who he was anyway.

"Merlin's beard," said Amos Diggory, his eyes widening. "Harry? Harry Potter?"

Nessa was at her brother's side in a heartbeat.

"Er – yeah," said Harry.

He was used to people looking curiously at him when they met him, used to the way their eyes moved at once to the lightning scar on his forehead, but it still made him uncomfortable every time. She was aware of the feeling herself, considering her relation to him, but it was so much worse for her brother than it was for her. Sometimes that made her happy, and other times it enraged her. This time, it was the latter.

"Ced's talked about you, of course," said Amos Diggory. "Told us all about playing against you last year…I said to him, I said — Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will…You beat Harry Potter!"

Harry was opening and closing his mouth as though he wasn't exactly sure what he was supposed to say to that. Fred and George were both scowling again, Tori glowering at the older man in front of her. Cedric looked slightly embarrassed.

Nessa had been privy to the conversation with which he'd told Cedric this, and it had been as annoying then as it was to hear it again now, but she kept her opinions to herself for the moment.

"Harry fell off his broom, Dad," Cedric muttered, shooting her an apologetic look. "I told you…it was an accident…"

"Yes, but you didn't fall off your broom, did you?" roared Amos genially, slapping his son on his back.

"Aren't we supposed to be getting to the World Cup?" Nessa said sharply before he could continue on his boasting tirade. She'd heard the entire thing last year and wasn't about to listen to it again, especially not in front of her brother, who had beaten himself up for that match for weeks afterward.

"Must be nearly time," Mr. Weasley agreed quickly. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"

"No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets," said Mr. Diggory. "There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"

"Not that I know of," said Mr. Weasley. "Yes, it's a minute off…We'd better get ready…You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do —"

Mr. Weasley said to her, Harry, and Hermione. The three of them nodded, but Nessa grabbed her brother's arm before he could follow the others.

"I know he's my friend, but if you wanted to knock Cedric off his broom during Quidditch this year, I'm not opposed, you know," she said quietly, grinning back at her brother. "Get that old guy to stop talking about it, at least."

Harry was still grinning when they made their way to the Portkey. It was difficult, owing to their bulky backpacks, to get all twelve of them crowded around the old boot that Amos Diggory held out. They all stood there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop. Nessa shifted uncomfortably between George and Tori as nobody spoke, waiting for the Portkey to activate. It would look so very odd if a Muggle were to come walking past, seeing them all clutching some old, manky boot.

"Three…" muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch. "Two…one…"

It happened immediately: Nessa felt as though a hook just behind her navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. Her feet left the ground; she could feel Tori and George on either side of her, their shoulders banging into hers; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and color, and her finger was stuck to the boot as though it were magnetized and then —

Her back hit the ground, hard, and she groaned at the pain of it. She grunted again when someone landed on top of her, swearing loudly. Wizards really should reinvent traveling — Floo powder, the Knight bus, this nonsense…She was going to drive everywhere after she graduated. Damn it all.

"Love," George gasped above her in greeting, his grin large and cocky.

She flushed upon realizing it was him above her, suddenly aware of every part of his body that met hers. He was holding himself up with his elbows, but even still, it was a very close position to be in, and certainly not one she'd ever been in with him before. When she continued looking at him, wide-eyed, he just chuckled and pulled her up to a stand, pulling her up with him. She steadied herself on his arms and swallowed hard at the feel of him under her hands. She pulled away hastily and looked around her in an attempt to distract herself.

God, she needed to get it together. She was acting as if she'd never seen him before in her life.

Fred was pulling himself to a stand next to them, smirking as he held a hand to Tori to pull her up after him. Tori, for the first time in all her life, was blushing and Nessa looked between her and Fred curiously. The moment she was pulled from the ground, Tori hurried to George's other side, as far away from Fred as she could get.

"Wipe that smirk off your face," Nessa muttered to Fred quietly.

"I can't," he muttered back, clearly trying not to laugh.

"What's going on with you two anyway?" she said.

They'd not been acting any differently — not really. They were clearly trying to pretend as though nothing had changed in their dynamic, and, truthfully, they were very good at doing so. Although, Nessa supposed they had been friends first, and she'd told Fred not to act any differently while Tori tried to figure out how she felt.

But she had noticed Tori watching Fred curiously in the past day, as if she couldn't quite make sense of him at the moment. And she fidgeted uncomfortably if he sat too close to her, eyeing him cautiously as if she expected him to just start proclaiming his love for her right there.

"Later," Fred muttered as the others began to pull themselves to their feet.

Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric were the only ones who had remained standing, though looking very windswept. Everyone else was on the ground — Hermione had landed on Harry's back and was muttering her apologies as she stood. Ginny was swearing under her breath as Ron pulled her up from next to him.

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice.