Uhhh…hello?
It's been awhile, I know, I'm sorry! There's been so much going on and I just haven't been in the mindset to write lately. The last chapter, coupled with the beginning of this one, was too much for me mentally, so I took a much needed break. Putting myself into Nessa's mindset in order to write the emotion of it all is sometimes a bit overwhelming.
Nothing too exciting in this one, other than some banter, but we're going for a filler chapter to get back into the swing of things. At any rate, I appreciate you all and enjoy your weekend! See you soon!
ZabuzasGirl: Thank you for the review! I'm glad you're enjoying the story!
Bookcozy: Poor Nessa. This one is a bit rough for her as well (as most of the rest of the storyline will be, honestly — the last three books are so dark in comparison to the first few). It makes me sad and excited for the future all at once. I appreciate you as always!
LoverGal2024: OMG, welcome! I'm glad you've been enjoying the series! I've attempted writing it so many times that it feels surreal to be this far. I do plan to incorporate George's POV more as the series progresses. Writing in his POV is a bit challenging for me, but always a ton of fun! And, yes, I do plan to go through all of the books for the T&E series, so there's tons to come! Thank you for reviewing!
Chapter Seventeen
Remus,
I hope everything has been going well for you. I hate to write with bad news, but I'm not exactly sure who else to talk to other than you.
They've selected the champions for the tournament. The first task is at the end of November. I'm sure it will be posted in the Daily Prophet soon, considering, but Harry was selected as a fourth champion Saturday evening. He didn't enter his name or ask anyone to enter it for him, so we have no idea who did it. My friend, Cedric, is the other Hogwarts champion.
Harry and Ron are having a row about it, I guess — Ron doesn't believe that Harry didn't enter his own name (or so he says, but I think he's just a bit jealous, you know?). But anyway that isn't helping Harry's mood any. He's been stomping around the castle all morning, and trying to avoid any Gryffindors. No one really cares that he didn't enter himself, so long as we have a champion…
Anyway, it's been a rough year, but Fred and George tried to enter their names for the tournament as well. They ended up with gray hair and beards. It was horribly atrocious looking. I'll show you a picture next time I see you.
Write soon,
Nessa
When Nessa had woken up on Sunday morning, it took her several minutes to realize why she felt so anxious and miserable. She'd spent the entire night tossing and turning, thinking of all worse case scenarios, no matter the assurances Dumbledore had made. When she'd finally fallen asleep, it had been off and on mostly, her anxiety keeping her brain too active to sleep too deeply or for very long. She woke with a start on several occasions throughout the night, and had awoken by the morning shaking so much that she'd thought she'd been shivering at first until covering with the blanket had made her feel trapped and stifled.
It had taken a number of deep breathing exercises, her dose of Calming Draught (with a consideration to take the Draught of Peace Madam Pomfrey had given her weeks ago), and twenty minutes of self-pitiful, silent crying before she could stop shaking enough to get up and dress for the day and head down to the common room. She hadn't bothered with going to the Great Hall for breakfast, and George's pleading did not work on her this time. She was positive that food would only make her throw up, and she was barely keeping it together as it was. So, instead, she'd written to Remus and mailed it using Hedwig, who, apparently, was upset with Harry for having to use one of the school owls to write to Sirius. A stipulation that had been requested by Sirius himself because Hedwig was too recognizable. They still had no idea where he was hiding out at, but a snowy white owl flying to the same location was certainly too odd a coincidence.
She'd spoken to Harry only briefly. He was in a foul mood — Ron refused to believe that he hadn't put his name in the goblet and had insisted Harry was lying to him the evening before. Hermione, of course, believed him immediately — stating the look on his face the previous evening was proof enough. Her easy acceptance of this seemed to only irritate Harry further that Ron didn't believe him too. He was his best friend, and it should have gone without saying that Harry wouldn't lie to him about something like this. Add on Hedwig's irritation, and the fact that both Hermione and Nessa had insisted he write to Sirius before he found out in the newspapers, he'd been too emotional to be around.
So, she'd been forced to sit in the corner of the common room pretending to do her homework, and fighting back tears because the anxiety was so overwhelming that she could hardly breathe through it. Her thoughts were racing with a speed that was dizzying and she had wretched at least twice during the day, despite Tori's pleas to go see Madame Pomfrey because she was worrying herself sick. Another reason to avoid Harry at the moment because she refused to make her anxiety his problem when he had far worse things to be worrying about. The fear she'd seen and heard from her brother the previous evening had been flashing behind the lids of her eyes all afternoon, and she didn't want her brother to see how crippling her own fear for him was. It would only distract him and make the entire thing feel much more immense.
She'd taken to hoping that Remus would write back immediately with some sort of advice that would soothe her, but that was a ridiculous notion on its own. It would take more than several hours for an owl to fly from Scotland to England. He likely wouldn't receive her letter until Monday morning at the earliest, so she was certainly going to have to learn to cope without his help.
By the time the evening rolled around, and everyone had gathered within the common room, she was emotionally drained and still unable to convince herself that she wouldn't start crying again, but she'd moved from hiding in her spot in the corner to the couch in front of the fire. Fred and Tori were sitting in each of the armchairs — they so rarely shared one these days, and Nessa suspected it was because Tori found the action too intimate at the current state of their relationship. George had draped himself over the length of the couch, one of his legs against the back of the couch, and the other resting on the floor. He pulled Nessa into the space between them so that she could recline back into his chest, a move she assumed was intended to soothe her to some degree.
"And there's nothing any of them can do?" Tori asked quietly. "There's no loophole at all? That seems incredibly stupid on the Ministry's part."
"The tournament is intended to be barbaric," Nessa responded dully, staring into the fire blankly. She was aware of the look that her three friends shared with each other — some sort of silent communication of concern for her well-being and the fact that she hadn't bounced back yet — but she ignored it. "The Ministry doesn't care one way or the other how old he is or how much magic he knows. A contract is a contract. Besides, they never cared before, did they? I don't see why they'd suddenly realize now how horrible of a competition it is just because Harry's being forced to compete."
"And Dumbledore has no idea who could have put his name into the goblet?" George said from behind her, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her stomach.
She didn't blame them for asking the same questions she'd asked herself; she'd been too emotional to explain much of what had happened the night before and she'd not spoken to them the previous evening before going to bed.
The three of them had thrown a party the previous evening, despite Harry's comment that he hadn't entered his name. Not because they'd believed him to be lying about that, but because it was in their nature to find a way to cheer others up in any way that they could. They were optimists by default, and they truly believed that Harry would come out victorious and unharmed. She hadn't the heart to admonish them for it or tell them that they were being unrealistic because they were merely doing the only thing they knew how to do in situations like these.
But it hadn't worked for her, unfortunately. The moment she'd entered the common room the previous evening, she'd been swarmed with questions about how Harry had entered, if she'd helped him, what the first task would be. Her eyes had been red and swollen from crying in the corridor, but no one had seemed to notice in the excitement of the evening. No one except her three friends, who had tried to make a beeline for her immediately for some inquisition she hadn't the energy to face. So she'd pushed her way hastily through the crowd of Gryffindors and raced up the stairs to her dormitory. For good measure, she'd charmed the curtains of her foreposter to remain closed, so that Tori could not open them and force her to talk it out.
She'd avoided having the conversation today as well by maintaining that thinking about it made her want to vomit and she needed to focus on something else for a bit. Sort out her thoughts. Worry herself into a black pit of despair.
All the same, really.
"I don't see how he could," she responded, her voice still maintaining the dull intonation that she'd used previously. She sounded dead, unemotional. She was aware that it would concern her friends further and that if she could just pretend to be okay that it would end the inquisition much sooner, but she didn't have the energy. All of it was currently being put toward breathing and panicking. "He'll look into it, I'm sure, but the only thing that he could promise me last night was that it wasn't impossible that it was Voldemort."
She could feel George tense behind her, but he didn't flinch. Fred inhaled sharply, but managed to hinder most of his distaste for the name. Tori, who had been leaning back into her chair, attempting to convey calm disinterest despite her clenched fists, straightened immediately, a sudden panic lighting her features.
"Why didn't you lead with that, Vanessa?" she exclaimed incredulously. "What does that mean?"
Nessa didn't even feel her usual spark of irritation at the use of her full name. Instead, she focused on the second question: the one she'd been focused on for the entire evening.
What did it mean?
Because she wasn't stupid; there were too many signs that something was brewing outside the castle's familiar walls. Remus was hearing things. Sirius was hearing things. Dumbledore clearly was if he'd hired an ex-Auror and couldn't promise her that it wasn't the most evil wizard that had ever walked the Earth that had placed her brother in the middle of a potentially deadly competition.
Trelawney's prediction, Harry's dream, the incident at the World Cup — all further things for her to obsess over, but it still made no sense. The plan wasn't coming together in her mind.
Exactly what purpose did entering Harry in the Triwizard Tournament serve?
Sure, he could die. A horrible, sick potential that she couldn't get out of her mind's eye. That stupid boggart from last year flashing before her eyes every time that she considered it for too long. But in the grand scheme of things, having Harry be murdered in the tournament was…impersonal. Voldemort had always struck Vanessa as untrusting, egotistical. She hadn't been able to stomach much of the actions he'd taken part in in the first war, but all of them had been…atrocious, sure, but some of them were…extreme to the greatest measure. She didn't imagine that he would accept her brother's death as "accidental" in the tournament. He'd want people to know that he'd been the one to kill Harry Potter.
Objectively speaking, this was a good power move to make in order to get people to fall in line, but not one she was particularly hoping to see fulfilled in person.
Aside from that, entering her brother's name in the tournament and hoping he might die wasn't entirely full-proof either, all things considered. For one thing, the precautions existed this year — whatever those were — and Dumbledore was highly unlikely to sit idly by if he had an inkling that Harry might not make it out of a task alive. And he was one of the judges of each task, so he'd be watching them all very closely.
For another, there was still some guarantee that Harry could either win or come out alive. He was well-loved and close with enough people who would willingly set aside time to help him compete. Once Nessa managed to pull herself out of her funk, she had every intention of sinking her entire being into making sure her brother came out alive. And it wasn't exactly in her brother's nature to go down without a fight — he might be afraid of dying, but it wouldn't stop him from being brave enough to face that fear head on.
A quality that both terrified and comforted her all at once.
Setting aside that portion, how could Voldemort have entered his name? Wormtail was easily recognizable and wouldn't be seen dead on the Hogwarts grounds, particularly not when he'd come so close to losing his life the last time. He was a coward at best, and Nessa was not entirely sure if she'd be able to stop herself or Tori from killing him the second go around. Not to mention the additional press and attention the school was receiving would make it much more difficult to remain hidden. And, truthfully, he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.
Voldemort was much smarter, certainly, but also couldn't likely find some way to be on the grounds himself — possessing Quirrell and Ginny had clearly not broken his way. Not instances that he was likely to repeat.
He'd need someone to blend in, to be inconspicuous. Karkaroff could play a part, except Nessa still agreed with Dumbledore that he had more to lose than gain. And she trusted Dumbledore's judgment of other people. He was a particularly difficult man to fool, she knew.
There were so many people she was unfamiliar with on the grounds this year, with so many potential champions that she couldn't be entirely sure of their trustworthiness. Unlikely though it seemed that Voldemort would use a student in school, he wasn't exactly within his right to be picky when he had no physical form. If he could get his hands on an adult student who could have willingly entered Harry's name then that would have served his purpose just as well.
But then what? What was the end game? How did this give him the power he so desperately craved? How did it fit in with Trelawney's prediction that he would find that power again?
And what the hell did Harry in particular have to do with it? Why him?
She couldn't figure that out. Not any of it. It was enraging her. It was scaring her. It was…too much all at once.
"I don't know what it means, Tori," she said, instead of voicing every raging question she had burning holes in her brain. "He wasn't sure of that either. He said it was 'unlikely, but not impossible.'"
And if it wasn't Voldemort, then who was it? Someone who just hated Harry and wanted to enter him as a practical joke? The only people she knew of that hated Harry enough to do that weren't old enough to cross the age line themselves.
Someone who hated her maybe? Wanted to see her suffer at every task? Murton wasn't old enough yet, and neither were any of her horrible friends. Alicia…disliked her a great deal, sure, but not likely enough to want her brother dead. Not to mention, she got on with Harry rather well. Devin disliked her, but Cedric was his best friend, so that hardly made any sense.
She didn't even know anyone else who didn't like her — for valid or small reasons.
Someone who just wanted a champion to be in Gryffindor? Seemed a stupid reason, really, and they could have just entered themselves under a fourth school. The only explanation that made a good deal of sense was the one that she hated the most. And the one that left her with all the same questions as before.
There was a long moment of silence as her friends all stared at her, but she couldn't find it within her to explain anymore.
"I can practically hear you thinking, Vanessa," Tori said, rolling her eyes. "Out with it."
Nessa huffed and tried to sit up, but George tightened his hold on her — likely because every time they'd pushed her prior, she'd run off to her dormitory or to have another heave in the loo. They were clearly done tiptoeing around her by this point, but she was still nowhere close to figuring it all out in her head. She huffed again, and kicked George in the shin, but he merely grumbled under his breath and locked her leg underneath his.
"It's amusing when she fights us, isn't it?" Fred said with a grin. "Like watching a toddler throw a temper tantrum."
"All bark, no bite," George said from behind her. She did not have to turn around to know that he had a big, stupid grin on his face.
"Like a chihuahua," Tori said thoughtfully, causing Fred to snicker and Nessa to glare.
"Clearly you have never met a chihuahua," she grumbled, remembering a particularly vicious bite she'd gotten from one of Aunt Marge's. She hated that dog, even today.
"Quit with the fighting and talk to us," George said, his voice firm despite their previous teasing. "Running from this isn't going to change anything."
It was really the stubbornness that kept her squirming in his hold, despite knowing that he was right. He was also stronger than her — physically speaking, anyway — so she wasn't likely to free herself from his grasp. Especially not without the use of one of her legs. By the time she gave up with a growl, she'd ruined her hair, he was laughing at her, Fred was looking up at the ceiling and trying not to laugh, and Tori was staring at her with a deadpan expression.
"That was embarrassing to watch," she said with an eye roll. "Now, will you quit acting like a child, and tell us what's going on?"
"You're a child," Nessa grumbled petulantly, pulling her shirt down from where it had ridden up in her struggle to free herself. "Besides, I don't know what you want me to be saying. I'm not all-knowing and neither is Dumbledore —"
"Well, he has a guess, doesn't he?"
"Not exactly," she hedged, glaring up at the ceiling. "But Moody does — he thinks someone used a Confundus Charm to trick the goblet into thinking that four schools competed and then entered Harry as the only one in that category."
Fred raised an eyebrow, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankle.
"Interesting," he said thoughtfully. "Not an easy feat…magical objects are hard to control."
"Not to mention the Age Line," Tori said, furrowing her brow in thought. "If the two of you couldn't cross it, I don't see how anyone else could have —"
"Isn't that sweet, Georgie?" Fred said, hand on his heart. "Such faith she has in us."
"And to think of all those times she called us stupid," George grinned.
"Will the two of you shut up for a second?" Tori said, rolling her eyes. "We haven't the time for your massive egos to take up all the space in here."
Nessa snorted when George used his free arm to grab one of the throw pillows and chuck it at her head.
"Not the only thing that's mass —"
"Fred Weasley, don't you dare finish that sentence," Nessa scolded, watching the smirk cross his features at the innuendo. His meaning was already entirely clear, however, and it sent George into a fit of laughter, and made Tori roll her eyes.
"Thank you, Fred," her best friend said sarcastically. "That's exactly the kind of comment I needed to hear to give me nightmares."
"You can think of me when you go to sleep anytime, baby girl," he said, grinning lopsidedly.
Tori gaped at him for a long moment before narrowing her eyes.
"Why do you always have to be so irritating?"
"Do us all a favor and keep talking, love," George interrupted loudly, giving Nessa a pleading look. "Before they start throwing hexes again."
By they, Nessa assumed he meant Tori, because she'd only ever seen Fred dodging hexes, but she obliged, if only to take the conversation back to neutral territory and away from whatever public flirting attempt Fred was trying to make.
"There's not much else to say," she said heavily. "The majority of the meeting was listening to everyone argue about how unfair it was that Hogwarts has two champions. All they really cared about was their chance at bringing the trophy home. No matter Harry's likelihood of winning."
"He could win, you know," Tori said softly, looking over at where Harry sat with Hermione across the common room. "Ron was right before — they have done plenty of dangerous things before this and come out fine. He's a decent wizard."
"Is decent good enough?" Nessa worried. "He's two years behind everyone else, at minimum. Besides, he's faced plenty of other dangerous things before, sure, but with help. I mean, this is —"
"This is just another dangerous situation that he needs help with," George said firmly from behind her. "Just because we can't do each task alongside him, doesn't mean we can't help him. He's got time to prepare, and everything the other champions know, one of us will."
Nessa blinked back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her again. Everything was so overwhelming at the moment, and she felt like any time someone said even anything remotely nice to her, it threatened to make her burst into tears. She should have expected George would be the one to do it; he was always that way with her. Fred preferred covering the pain with jokes and banter, and Tori was more likely to drag it out of her kicking and screaming.
All the same, it only barely soothed her fraying nerves. Harry would have to work one hundred times harder in order to keep pace with the other champions, and he was so…small? It felt like the wrong word to use — certainly one that would offend him a great deal if she said aloud — but he was her baby brother and there was nothing anyone could say that would make this feel less catastrophic.
"The three of you have plenty of other things to be worried about —" she began worriedly. Tori had O.W.L.s to prepare for and the twins had WWW.
"As important as keeping Harry alive?" Tori said with an eye roll, opening the latest copy of Witch Weekly and leaning back casually in her armchair again. "I hardly think so. Unless we're counting reading about how Gwenog Jones can't land a man because she has a sixth toe that she's been trying to keep secret from the world. Then, of course, I'm far too busy at the moment."
Fred made a face.
"What do you read that rubbish for?" he said distastefully. The question was clearly rhetorical because he didn't bother waiting for a response and instead turned to Nessa. "At any rate, I think that's proof positive that we have nothing better to be doing."
"She has O.W.L.s," Nessa said with an eye roll.
"So do you," Tori shot back.
"And the two of you have the shop —"
"Which we can still work on outside of helping Harry," George soothed. "We only have three classes each. We have plenty of time."
"George, it's —"
"Argue all you want, Nessa," Fred interrupted firmly, putting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes as if he had every intention of taking a nap. "We're helping whether you like it or not. You don't have to do everything alone anymore. The sooner you realize that, the easier this will be."
She wasn't sure if she should cry or say thank you or maybe argue some more. She hated the idea of inconveniencing them just for the sake of making her life easier or keeping her sanity, but it was clear none of them would listen to her one way or the other. They'd help her and her brother, no matter the fact that it wasn't their responsibility to do so.
Truthfully, she didn't deserve a single one of them. Didn't exactly understand how she had managed to befriend the three of them at all, considering all of their differences.
"You're stuck with us, sweetheart," George said into her ear, so quietly that she was certain neither Fred or Tori had heard. She twisted so that she could look at him and he leaned down to brush a kiss to her lips. "Just let us help you."
"It will take up the entire year, George. And if it is Voldemort, then the three of you shouldn't be caught in the middle —"
"You don't know for sure that it is him, Vanessa," he said, twining his fingers with hers. "But even if it is, we'd fight it anyway."
Likely true — the Weasleys were particularly well-known for two things: being poor and being Muggle sympathizers — and they'd all landed themselves in Gryffindor for a reason that made much more sense than the reasons Vanessa had. As far as she was aware, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had fought against Voldemort the last time he'd been in power, and she had no doubt that their children would follow in their footsteps.
But it didn't make her feel any better — they might have fought regardless of their relationship with her, but she wasn't stupid enough to believe that their friendship wasn't playing a part now. It felt a bit like dragging them into the middle of a tornado, and hoping they wouldn't be sucked away when it was over.
And until she had some idea of who had caused all of this and why they were doing it, she hated the idea of pulling them into something that could get them all killed.
But she had no proof that it was Voldemort. Just a horrible, horrible heaviness in her stomach that made her feel like there was something massive on the horizon that she was powerless to stop.
"I don't want the three of you in the middle of whatever this is —"
"Let me make this easy for you, sweetheart," he interrupted firmly, reaching forward to pull her bottom lip from between her teeth and running his thumb over it. "If you're in the middle, we're in the middle. Anyone who hurts you, hurts us. What's important to you is important to us. So, yes, we are in the middle, whether you want us there or not, and we won't let anything happen to Harry. You'd do the same for us — you did do the same for us when it was Ginny. We're all in this together, love."
No, she wasn't likely to convince them not to help her. And even if she would have done the same thing for them if roles were reversed, she still believed that she didn't truly deserve any of them.
So instead of arguing — or crying — she accepted the comfort he was offering her and wrapped her arms around his middle, squeezing tightly and inhaling the smell of cinnamon.
Waking up on Monday was a little bit better for her, although still particularly difficult.
The anxiety was still eating her alive and she'd barely eaten anything for breakfast, but she'd slept easier the night before than she had on Saturday evening. Partially because she'd napped for a few hours on the couch with George — she hadn't intended to fall asleep, but the comfort he provided, entirely without trying, had lulled her into sleep. It had calmed her enough that she'd been able to fall asleep again in her own bed with little difficulty.
As the three of them had to be up much earlier than she might usually be Monday morning, she still felt the burn of exhaustion in her eyes, and wished she could sleep for several days straight, but she couldn't come to regret the extra hours of sleep being near him had provided.
If only she were provided that comfort now, instead of making her want to rip her hair out of her scalp.
"Fred, put that armadillo bile back where you found it," she huffed in annoyance, looking up from the clipboard she'd been using to double check their numbers.
Snape had not been happy to see the four of them so early in the morning, although his annoyance faded some when she'd followed the twins into the store room with a list of inventory. Nessa had forgotten to mention that she'd given Lee detention as well, but Snape had had no interest in adding Lee into the mix of things for fear of losing his inventory entirely.
Nessa could hear the older Gryffindor swearing profusely even with the twins making an unnecessary amount of noise next to her. She did feel a bit bad for Lee, truthfully — Snape was making him remove the quills from a porcupine without any gloves. An act that was not painful for the porcupine due to magic, but was certainly painful for Lee.
Any disapproval she had about Snape's choice in punishment — because of her own abuse of power no less — was forgotten by the two buffoons in front of her. They'd been very cheerful about serving this particular detention, despite their previous irritation with her, but she was certain it was only because their constant jokes and heavy handedness were giving her a great deal of irritation.
"As you wish, your highness," Fred said, putting the vial back with unnecessary force and causing the vials next to it to rattle precariously.
"Stop calling me that," she said, glaring at him. "It's incredibly annoying."
"My apologies, your highness."
"I'm going to kill you where you stand," she growled. "George, don't you dare switch those!"
George scowled at his twin for not keeping her distracted for long enough, and set the vials of eel eye and eye of newt back on the shelf in front of him.
She'd not truly thought the entire thing through when she'd told Snape that she'd supervise the two of them through their detention. It was more like supervising four toddlers at once, minus the tantrums. For one thing, they kept trying to switch ingredients in some of the jars — without any regard for the effect that doing so would cause in potion making because they had not a clue themselves — and she had to keep watching them every time they moved to a new vial. It was taking her twice as long as it would have normally if she'd done the entire thing on her own. For another, both of them had taken to calling her 'highness' as a way of irritating her further. It was both payment for her giving them detention and an admission that she was 'the boss,' as Fred put it.
What it really was was stupid.
"Now, munchkin, this is hardly fair," Fred said, leaning back against the shelves behind him and raising an eyebrow. "Why can you give us detention, but we can't switch a few ingredients around?"
"Giving you detention is intended to be a punishment for your buffoonery —"
"Buffoonery, she says," George snorted, surreptitiously sliding another vial into his hands and looking for something to replace it with while she was distracted with her lecture.
"And for another thing," Nessa said, ignoring her boyfriend's interruption completely. "You have no idea what would happen if you switch out those ingredients. You're just trying to cause trouble, no matter if a first year loses their hand — George, put that back!"
George rolled his eyes to the ceiling and placed the two vials back where he'd gotten them.
"Do you have eyes in the back of your head?" he griped with a forlorn look at his brother.
"Just snog her, George," Fred deadpanned, causing Nessa to make an indignant noise in the back of her throat. "That always works and we're running out of time here."
"Do not," Nessa said, holding out an arm to prevent George from stepping any closer to her.
"Would you rather I did it then?" Fred said casually before sighing heavily. "It'll be a chore, but I suppose I could —"
"A chore?" Nessa said indignantly. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I mean that in the nicest way possible, of course," Fred said, waving away her comment. "So, are we doing this or not?"
"Not," Nessa snorted with an eye roll.
"An opportunity wasted," Fred said, shaking his head in disappointment. "There are loads of birds who would love to be in your position right now, you know."
"Scolding the two of you like toddlers?"
"No," Fred said pointedly, eyeing his twin behind her, who was taking his opportunity to swap out castor oil for neem oil. "In a broom cupboard with both of us."
It took Nessa entirely too long to catch what he was saying and she spluttered at him, trying to ignore the heat in her cheeks at the suggestion.
"You are joking," she said.
"About snogging you? Yes. But only because Georgie would kill me, see," Fred said as if this were entirely self-explanatory. "About birds wanting to shag both of us? Not at all."
"That's — wait a second, you haven't done that, have you?" she said in alarm.
Fred snorted.
"Course not," he said. "I've no desire to see George starkers, believe me."
"Don't look so afraid, love," George snorted, stepping closer to her now that he'd managed to swap the ingredients out and hiding his sleight of hand from her view entirely. "He's only joking —"
"Mostly," Fred said, grinning at her winningly. "I'll snog you if you want, but you have to get rid of George. The rest, I was definitely joking about. Maybe. Probably."
Nessa rolled her eyes as George snorted behind her.
"This conversation is ridiculous for every reason," Nessa said, before spinning to face her boyfriend with her hands on her hips. "And switch the labels on those vials around, George."
Fred swore behind her and there was a momentary surprise on George's face at having been caught before he smiled at her sweetly and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear.
"Now, love," he said quietly. "A first year won't lose his hand over a bit of neem oil, would he?"
"Don't try to sweet talk me, George," she huffed, swatting his hand away from her face. "And that's not the point —"
"It was before," Fred argued from behind her, but fell silent when George shot him a warning look.
"Look at it this way, love," George soothed, pulling her attention back to him again. Her glare only softened slightly, but it was good enough as far as he was concerned. She was particularly on edge after Halloween, but she'd been relatively normal while she'd been berating them all morning. Being able to prank Snape was only part of the fun at this point; he was practically desperate to distract her from her anxiousness at this point. "It's just Snape, isn't it?"
"What kind of a defense is that?" she snorted, raising an eyebrow at him.
"Well, he's a been a bit of a git lately —"
"His whole life," Fred snorted, resulting in a huff from Nessa and a shushing noise from his twin.
" — what with blaming Harry for entering the tournament, and forcing you to decorate the dungeons," George said, withholding his smirk when she bit her lip in consideration. "He's got poor Lee out there injuring himself for an hour."
"I'm sure Lee will get over it," she said dryly. "He has detention with Snape once a month."
George ignored the comment, brushing a thumb across her cheek. She tried very hard to remember why she was against this again — he was very good at quelling her anxieties, something that normally relaxed her, but now just annoyed her. She'd been adamant against staying away from any prank involving Snape, no matter his questionable personal qualities. And the twins had begged her to help them with one since the day she'd become friends with them — she had "inside knowledge."
"And let's not forget what he did to Remus," George said pointedly.
Nessa hesitated.
"I forgave him for that," she said, but there was still a very vindictive part of her that believed his debt was nowhere near paid.
"Yes, he's making him Wolfsbane Potion now, I know," George acquiesced. "But Remus wouldn't need that if he still had a job, would he? And you're a Potions goddess, love," She sighed when he twirled her to face his twin and leaned down to whisper in her ear conspiratorially. "You tell us what ingredients to switch and we'll give Snape exactly what he deserves. He won't even know you helped us."
She knew exactly what he was doing. To be fair, it was a great manipulation tactic on his part, if she had to admit it to herself.
There was very little Snape would ever be able to do that would fully indemnify him from the way he'd treated Remus. Certainly nothing that would excuse his behavior towards Harry two nights before; every time she thought about it, it made her chest burn with anger. It was so unfair to her that he hated Harry so much — it wasn't like Harry had any control over the fact that their father had been mean to Snape in school. Or the fact that he looked exactly like him. As far as she was concerned, Harry didn't even act like her father had to Snape. She didn't know much about him, truthfully, but her brother had never even pulled a single prank in the entirety of his life.
He was certainly much nicer than she was, but Snape adored her. Just because she looked like her mother? Did they not have the same father? And she spent her time around the people that Snape would have associated with the same characteristics as her father and his friends.
But it was her brother that he hated. Most of the time she could ignore the stupidity of that — most of his slights against her brother were trivial at best, and Harry could handle himself. But Halloween night? Halloween night had been a time to advocate for her brother and the fact that he had no choice in his role as champion, to defend him against some idiotic assumption that he wanted fame and glory regardless of physical danger. But Snape hadn't done that at all. Not even close actually.
Instead, he'd said nothing. Had condemned her brother instead. She couldn't stop picturing the loathing in his eyes behind his greasy black hair or the frustration he'd felt that Dumbledore had so easily believed Harry's story.
All because of her father?
It was bullshit.
"Switch the labels back, George," she said finally, the racing in her mind wrestling with her anxiety at being caught. She felt George's disappointment behind her and saw Fred roll his eyes to the ceiling. She ignored them both as she perused the shelves around her idly and grabbed a vial of Octopus Powder and another of Powdered Kelp. She handed both to Fred with a raised eyebrow. "Swap these. Neem oil and castor oil aren't volatile enough."
Fred grinned at her widely, and George chuckled appreciatively from behind her.
"And what exactly will this do?" he said, watching his twin swap the labels and stepping closer to her again, resting his hands on either side of her waist.
"Powdered Kelp is a fertilizer," she said, turning to look at him and trying to keep her expression carefully disapproving, despite the fact that she was helping them misbehave. "Added to the right potion, it will make them…foam up, so to speak. Too fast for him to control before it overflows his classroom."
"You are simply the most beautiful human being I've ever laid eyes on, darling," he said truthfully. She was particularly attractive when she had that mischievous glint in her eye, and he did not see it often enough.
Her cheeks immediately pinkened at the words, and she didn't stop him when he leaned forward to kiss both of them lightly.
"Don't look so smug," she said, clearing her throat and blinking up at him. "I know very well what you were doing, George Weasley."
He grinned at her cheerfully.
"Well, of course you did, sweetheart," he said, tweaking her on the nose affectionately. "What you see is not smugness, but pride, darling. Easily confused, you see."
She made a suspicious noise in the back of her throat, despite her pursed lips indicating that she was trying very hard to keep from laughing at him. She couldn't help it, really. Even at his most ridiculous, he was so comforting to be around. He filled her with a giddiness that felt entirely all-consuming.
He had just leaned down to place a lingering kiss on her lips when Fred coughed pointedly.
"The two of you are entirely disgusting to be around," he said, crossing his arms and making a grand show of appearing annoyed. "I might as well not even be here for all the attention you give me."
"Wish you weren't," Nessa quipped despite her embarrassment.
Fred made a disgusted noise when George winked at her.
"I don't have to take this, you know," Fred said, pushing past them with his nose in the air. "Our hour is up. I'm going to go somewhere where I'm appreciated, thank you very much."
"Come on, troublemaker," George said, pulling her after him. "Before Fred blows something up for attention."
Finding a place to end this was horrible. At any rate, we'll get back into the nitty gritty in the next chapter. The rest of the school's reaction, Cedric's reaction, Rita Skeeter….Lord, Nessa is really in for one.
See you soon, lovelies!