HENRY:

"You should go to the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match!" Fred had said over dinner one night.

"It'll be fun!" George had said, nodding enthusiastically.

"I'd love to see you!" Gretch had said in her letter to me.

"Of course you're welcome, your housemates would be very happy to see you!" Professor Sprout had said when I'd asked permission.

"Go see if that Cadawallader kid is up to snuff, but take Maddock with you," Cormack McLeod had said, wagging his finger at me like a cartoon villain. "I doubt you'd recognize a Chaser with talent considering the number of goals that get past you."

And so I went. I got the same permissions Oliver had gotten to watch me a year prior and watched the match from the stands with my sister and her friends while Alasdair watched from the commentary box with the professors and Luna. And then when the match was over, I hugged my sister tight and hurtled up to the castle to check on Lucy and Harry.

"I'm so glad you're here, Henry. Do you have any way of contacting the Weasley twins as well?" Professor McGonagall said when I arrived in the Hospital Wing.

"I'm going to go fetch a couple of Cedric's jumpers," Hermione said, jumping from her chair between Harry's bed and Ron's bed and running past me.

"You're the closest people Lucy has to family outside of those of us here at school," Ron said with a sad shrug.

"I sure hope she's going to be alright, that was a nasty hit," Hagrid said when he arrived carrying the unconscious Lucy.

"She's going to be okay, but I'm sure she'd appreciate seeing a couple more friendly faces whenever she wakes up," Madam Pomfrey said, waving her wand over Lucy's still form on the bed. "Especially since Potter's is, er, heavily bandaged at the moment."

And so I left the Hospital Wing. I returned mere minutes later to find that the Hospital Wing was quite empty except for Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Lucy — the latter two of whom were still either unconscious or asleep — and there was a curtain drawn suspiciously around a bed in the corner of the room.

Ron and Hermione were speaking in low tones as I approached, but Ron lifted his hand in greeting when he saw me, and Hermione turned around to acknowledge me too.

"Fred and George will be here shortly," I said as I pulled up a chair to sit next to Hermione. "I may have, er, understated the severity of the injuries so that they didn't panic and rush over here. Anyway, hi, good to see you both, how are you doing?"

"It's good to see you too, Henry," Hermione replied, offering me a half-smile.

"I'm set to be released tomorrow, so there was really no need for Harry and Lucy to keep me company tonight," Ron said. "We obviously didn't see anything, but we could hear Luna's commentary and Pomfrey's fussing so we know it was bad. How bad was it to watch?"

I sighed and lifted my hands to illustrate. "For Harry's, he was here, and Lucy and Cormac were here. The Bludger came from here, and hit him like this."

"Oh, damn!" Ron lifted a fist to his mouth as he cringed. "That explains the cracked skull."

"Zacharias Smith is behind that curtain, Madam Pomfrey is taking care of him now," Hermione whispered. "Please tell me Lucy made him pay for everything he said during the last match."

"She certainly did," I whispered back. I spoke at a normal volume, a little louder than necessary, just to make sure he could hear me. I was upset with the substitute Gryffindor Keeper for what he had done, but I was livid with Zacharias for everything I'd heard about what he'd done the past few months. "Lucy's shot at Zacharias was beautiful, truly. He was reaching out his arm like this, and Lucy was way up here, and she hit the Bludger right here — "

Hermione's jaw dropped, and a surprised laugh escaped her. "Wow. Pity I missed that."

"I swear we could hear the snap from here," Ron said, echoing her laugh. "Damn, what a shot. How sharply was it bent?"

I demonstrated wordlessly just by positioning my elbow at a 90° angle, and both Ron and Hermione gasped, both trying and failing to not look pleased. Before I could tell the story of the third Bludger, Harry started to stir. Madam Pomfrey emerged from behind the curtain.

"You're free to go, Smith," she said over her shoulder as she bustled over to Harry, who was lifting a hand to his bandaged head.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Cracked skull. Nothing to worry about, I mended it at once, but I'm keeping you in overnight. You shouldn't overexert yourself for a few hours," Madam Pomfrey replied.

"I don't want to stay here overnight, I want to find McLaggen and kill him — "

"I'm afraid that would come under the heading of 'overexertion.' You will stay here until I discharge you, Potter, or I shall call the headmaster."

Harry sighed heavily. He looked over in our direction, blinking in surprise when he saw me. "Oh, hi Henry. What are you doing here?"

"I was going to surprise you all after the match, I'm here with Alasdair Maddock, but, er, well..." My eyes wandered to Lucy, whom Harry had not yet noticed. "I suppose that will have to wait."

"What do you — Lucy? Lucy!" Harry shoved his bedcovers aside and launched himself from his bed to hers. He was silent for a long moment as he studied her face and the bandages wrapped around her arm that poked out from beneath Cedric's jumper, which Hermione had loosely draped over the right side of her body. He didn't say a word as he grabbed the jumper Hermione had left on his bed and gently tucked it around Lucy. His eyes were still glued to her face when he spoke again. "What happened?"

"Henry was just about to tell us when you woke up," Ron said.

Harry turned to face me, intertwining his fingers with the fingers of Lucy's left hand. "If McLaggen did this, you're all helping me break out of here to commit a murder."

"I reckon the rest of the team is dealing with him right now, mate," Ron replied. "Ginny stopped by briefly while Henry was telling the twins about what happened, and once she knew you two would be okay, she stormed out of here looking angrier than I think I've ever seen her. I wouldn't be surprised if she bit McLaggen's head clean off and sent it to his parents in a box."

I snorted, equal parts amused and horrified by the vivid mental image Ron had painted. "Well, assuming he's your substitute Keeper, he didn't do it. There was a Bludger heading for your smallest Chaser," I explained. "It seemed to me like Lucy thought she was too far away to hit it effectively and used herself as a human shield."

"Of course she did," Hermione said with a huff as she shook her head.

Harry looked back at Lucy and brushed a loose strand of sweaty hair off of her forehead. "Hurry up and wake up so I can call you a stupid self-sacrificing Gryffindor to your face."

"Oh, Harry, you missed it!" Ron said excitedly. "Lucy broke Smith's arm! She nearly broke his hand clean off! He left as you were waking up!"

"Really?" Harry asked, looking rather surprised.

I nodded. "I think she won the match for you by doing that. It really shifted the momentum in Gryffindor's favor."

"Wait, we won? How on earth did Gryffindor win without a Seeker, a Keeper, and a Beater?"

"Well, McLaggen was playing — " Ron started to say.

"Ron, for the last time, you're a far better Keeper than him, we might as well have been without a Keeper, I doubt anyone trusted him to actually do his job after that stunt he pulled," Harry interrupted. "Anyway, how did we win?"

"Ginny kept Ethan, the Hufflepuff Seeker, busy so he couldn't catch the Snitch until you had more than a 150-point lead, and Lucy focused on everyone else. Zacharias stayed on the Pitch after Lucy broke his arm, too injured to play but not injured enough to take himself to the Hospital Wing, so he just shouted formations at Mary and Bleddyn, the other Chasers. The match ended shortly after that." Harry and Ron both started laughing loudly, startling me a bit. "What, what did I say?"

"We use most of the same plays," Harry explained between bouts of laughter. "Lucy knew that you used Cedric's plays, and she assumed Zacharias would do the same. We confirmed as much when we watched the Hufflepuff-Ravenclaw match in November. Chances are, he kept the names the same too, meaning every time he called out a play..."

"Your team would have been able to anticipate what they were about to do," I finished for him with a sigh.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Sorry. Lucy's come up with quite a few of her own plays, and I'm sure your team has too, but the core plays are the same. When Lucy's been running drills in preparation for this match, she's been intentionally using as many of her own plays as possible so that your Chasers didn't catch on."

"She's been helping me learn to recognize the formations too," Ron said. "I doubt she got much time to do that with McLaggen, though."

"She tried. He insisted he didn't need her help." Harry huffed. "If Ginny's not out there killing him right now — "

"Killing who?" a new voice asked. Fred's, I realized a second later when I glanced at the Hospital Wing doors.

"We got your message, Henry, what — " George rushed forward when he saw that the bed Harry was sitting on was Lucy's. "What happened?"

"Killing who?" Fred asked again, hovering in front of the doors, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked from Lucy to Harry to Ron to Harry to Lucy.

"Cormac McLaggen," Harry responded. "He nearly cost us the match. He's a prick anyway, that's no secret, and Lucy told me before the match that he told her that he thinks men make better Beaters than women, which is why he stole her bat and hit the Bludger that knocked me out — "

"Oh, he's dead." With that, Fred turned on his heel and disappeared back through the Hospital Wing doors. They closed behind him with a resounding bang, making the rest of us jump.

Hermione got to her feet. "I'll go make sure they don't, er, actually kill him."

Ron watched her go with a distinctly fond expression that didn't go unnoticed.

"Cormac McLaggen explains why your head looks like the mummies we saw in Egypt, Harry," George said, "but what happened to Lucy?"

"D'you remember that match our second year when Dobby rigged that Bludger to go after me and Oliver called a time-out and we all argued about whether you and Fred should keep helping me or focus on protecting the rest of the team?" Harry asked.

"Yes, of course I do, you and Lucy were hell-bent on protecting the other's skin instead of your own," George replied with a nod. "Let me guess, Lucy did something to earn herself the title of... what was it again?"

Harry nodded. "Stupid self-sacrificing Gryffindor."

"Oh, shut up," Lucy mumbled, eyes still closed. She sucked in a slow deep breath, then exhaled in what sounded like relief. Her eyes fluttered open and found Harry first. She launched herself into Harry's arms instantly, burying her face against the crook of his neck. "I'm so glad you're okay. I had no idea that McLaggen would be that abysmally stupid, which is honestly my fault, I'm so sorry."

"I'm okay, I'm okay," he said quietly as he patted her back. "No need to apologize. Madam Pomfrey said we both have to stay here for the night, but we can go kill him together tomorrow, assuming Ginny and Fred don't kill him first, okay? You showed incredible restraint in not doing so today and it paid off, you won the match, I'm so proud of you. You made Gryffindor proud, you stupid self-sacrificing Gryffindor."

Lucy shrugged as she pulled away. "Better me than Dennis Creevey. I reckon a hit like that would have knocked him clean off his broom."

"In all fairness, Lucy, I have no idea how it didn't knock you off yours," I said, rising to my feet and going to stand next to George.

"Oh, hi Henry, hi George, what are you doing here? Does that mean Fred is really off killing McLaggen with Ginny?" Lucy asked.

"Mione went with them, so unfortunately I think he'll live to be a prick another day," Ron piped up.

"I'm here because you nearly got yourself killed to win a Quidditch match," George replied. "Henry was here to surprise you after the match, but, well..."

Lucy cringed. "Right. That didn't go as planned. Sorry."

"Merlin, don't apologize." I shook my head. "That was certainly a memorable match and it was an honor to watch you win despite the odds being stacked against you like that."

"You're not upset that it was Hufflepuff that we defeated?" she asked with a small smile.

"Oh, of course not. From what I gathered, they had it coming anyway. I have half a mind to request that Ginny, Fred, and Hermione hunt Zacharias down once they're done with McLaggen, but I reckon you nearly snapping his hand off is enough of a lesson for one day."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, what?" George spluttered. "You did what, Cub?"

Lucy blushed as she looked from him to me. "You want to tell him about the match, or should I?"

"It's your story to tell, Lucy," I replied with a smile.

"Well, truly, the story should start before the match," she said, "because when I went down to breakfast, I found McLaggen telling Dennis that he needs to be more concerned about Bludgers than most Chasers because the Beaters on his team are girls..."

The story of the day unfolded one sentence at a time — beginning with breakfast and ending with Lucy trying to land before she passed out — punctuated by proud and/or indignant commentary in the appropriate places.

"Wait, Cub, I have a question," George said. "Why didn't you hold your bat out in front of you to at least try to lessen the impact?"

Lucy blinked. "Oh. I didn't even think of that."

"Merlin's beard." George covered his face with his hands for a moment before looking back at Lucy with slightly-amused resignation. "Next time you're going to be a 'stupid self-sacrificing Gryffindor,' please at least try to protect yourself with your bat. I understand that you couldn't use it effectively, but it would have absorbed at least a little bit of the impact."

"Right," she said, blushing. "Anyway, what was the damage?"

"Harry was still unconscious when Hagrid brought you up here and Henry was off sending a message to the twins," Ron said, "but it was bad, Madam Pomfrey said you punctured a lung and shattered your arm and your ribs, which is why I reckon you're still a little sore."

Lucy nodded and rested back against her pillows as she looked at Harry. "Yeah. What happened to you?"

"Just a cracked skull," he replied. "Easier fix than yours. At least you shouldn't need Skele-Gro, especially once you have Cedric's jumpers."

"Where's yours?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

Harry's eyes wandered to the place where it rested against Lucy. She automatically started to remove it, but Harry's hand shot out to stop her. "No. I'm okay. My head doesn't even hurt anymore. Keep it."

"Stupid self-sacrificing Gryffindor," Lucy muttered as she struggled against his hand.

"Oh no, you earned that title for keeps today, I don't want it back," Harry said.

Ron laughed. "Yeah, that's fair. Considering she nearly died, I reckon you'd have to actually die in order to become the ultimate self-sacrificing Gryffindor, and none of us want that."

"Agreed." Lucy nodded emphatically. "Anyway, I'm okay, sorry for causing so much concern."

"Oi, none of that," George said, reaching down to ruffle Lucy's hair. He lowered himself down onto the right side of her bed slowly. "Does that hurt?"

Lucy shook her head.

"She's lying," Harry announced as he got to his feet. "Sit on her left side."

Lucy stuck her tongue out at Harry, but her voice lacked any real bite when she spoke. "Boo."

"Wait, Harry, why were you almost late to the match?" Ron asked. "You left here early enough."

Harry sighed and went to sit on his own bed facing Ron, lowering his voice as he started to explain whatever had happened. I couldn't bring myself to listen — I was too transfixed by the tender expression on George's face as he lowered himself onto the left side of Lucy's bed.

"What is it, George?" Lucy asked softly.

He cocked his head. "What do you mean?"

"You have a thought. What is it?"

"Excuse you, I have thoughts quite often. Multiple thoughts at once, even."

"Oh, piss off, you know what I mean. What thoughts are you having at this point in time?"

"I'm hoping you didn't put yourself in danger on purpose, beyond just, you know, being your overprotective self."

Lucy's mouth made an O shape. "No, no, it wasn't like that. When I say better me than Dennis, I mean I knew I could objectively handle the hit better, not that I deserved it or anything. The fact that I didn't think to hold up my bat to protect myself was just an oversight, I only had a couple of seconds to assess the situation and react accordingly, it's not like I thought about doing that and didn't, it just genuinely didn't occur to me. It was intentional, but not premeditated, you know? Does that make sense, does that help?"

"I was fairly certain that was how it happened, I was just... worried. Sorry." George heaved a deep breath and nodded. "That makes sense, that helps, thanks."

"So what other thoughts are you having?" she asked.

George sighed. "You're too good, Cub. I am having multiple thoughts at once right now."

"I know you're capable of it on occasion. Go on, out with it."

"I'm just thinking about what I said a week ago when I was walking you back to Gryffindor Tower about just... getting away from everything. When I was talking about danger, I meant the war, but, well, there's danger even in the fun. You could have died for a game."

Lucy grinned. "What a way to go, though. You're so creative, Georgie, death by laughter, death by hugs, death by sports."

George made a strangled sound, and Lucy laughed, reaching forward to pat his arm.

"I'm just giving you a hard time. You seem to be forgetting something else you told me last week, about how accidents and being okay afterward are luxuries so there's no need to panic. Where's that optimistic George gone?"

I blinked. George had broken down crying to me after Ron had been poisoned. He must have just been putting on a good brave front for Lucy. I made a mental note to ask him about it later.

"He clocked out when he saw these," he replied as he poked her bandages. "He should be back soon, though, since you're awake and okay enough to be taking the mickey out of me."

Lucy smiled innocently. "I'm always in the mood to take the mickey out of you, Weasley." She twitched her unbandaged fingers toward George's hand. "Hand, please, I need to make a point."

Amused, George obliged, locking their fingers together.

"I'm okay. It was just Quidditch, you know I live and breathe for it and I'd happily break and bleed for it, too. What happened was an accident, and I didn't get hurt in a way that couldn't be fixed. Now, listen up." She looked from him to me then back at him. "Speaking of our conversation last week, have you done anything about ensuring a little joy just for you to keep?"

George shrugged. "I don't know, Cub, I haven't thought about it much. Busy week."

"Think about it more," Lucy said seriously. She glanced at me for a brief second again before looking back at George. "Anyway, I'm okay. You and Henry should go do something fun, just the two of you."

"I don't mind keeping you company, Lucy, and I doubt George does either — " I started to say.

"Fred can keep me company whenever he comes back," she interrupted. "Besides, if the team comes back plus Fred and Hermione, the person limit would be exceeded if you're still here. George," she said, eyes widening, "I reckon Henry hasn't gotten a chance to eat since breakfast, if he was here for the match. You ought to do something about that."

George blinked. "Merlin, you're right! Okay, I'll come back later, after curfew, when your schoolmates won't be allowed to visit you anyway." He turned to look at me. "We're going to eat."

I shot Lucy a fond, exasperated look, and she just smiled back at me with exaggerated innocence.

"Sorry the match was such a disaster, Henry," she said. "If you come back for our next match, I'll make sure it's more entertaining and less anxiety-inducing."

"Oh hush, you have nothing to apologize for," I replied as I stepped up alongside George and gently touched her uninjured shoulder. "Heal up. We'll be back."

She waved as George rose to his feet. "Have fun, boys!"

With that, we made our way from the castle to Hogsmeade, where we were able to apparate. George extended an elbow, which I accepted. When our feet hit the ground in London, I would have fallen if my arm hadn't been so tightly locked in George's.

"Did you pass your apparition test on the first time, Furls?" George asked, tone joking even as he quickly shot his other arm out to steady me.

"What do you think?" I muttered as my face burned. "Thanks."

George studied me for a long second. "You weren't very fond of the Portkey either, last June. I chalked it up to the fact that, well, you'd just been thrown into a door less than an hour prior, but..."

"Broom is my preferred method of magical transportation," I said as we started walking down the street in the direction of our favorite little pub. "You can get from Point A to Point B and be aware of everywhere you've been in between. I don't enjoy popping in and out of existence. Anyway, no, I didn't pass on my first time. I only barely passed before I graduated school, if you must know. We can't all be Lucy."

"Little Miss 'I Apparated On My Fifth Try Ever' is a wonder, certainly. She wasn't even the one who told me it was only her fifth try, she just mentioned that she had managed to do it during their first lesson. Ron was the one doing the bulk of the bragging about her."

I smiled. "You Weasleys have a habit of bragging about her, and rightly so."

"Yeah, well, Merlin knows she won't brag about herself when she should, so someone has to," he replied. "Anyway, are you in a shepherd's pie mood tonight, or a bangers and mash mood tonight, Mr. Magpie?"

"Wait, Merlin, first — " I said, tugging George into an alley, "you happen to be wearing bright purple from head to toe except for a bright orange tie and a bright blue vest, and I'm wearing a suit jacket that has Montrose Magpies Quidditch prominently displayed on the front and my last name and jersey number on the back."

"Ah, right, I'd rather not be recognized by any unsavory characters," he said with a sigh as he drew his wand and tapped his tie to turn it white and his shirt and trousers to turn them black. I noticed that the part of the uniform that represented Lucy was left unmodified.

I shrugged off my Magpies jacket and tossed it over my shoulder in a way that made it look like a normal suit jacket. The March night was warmer than expected, so I started rolling up the sleeves of my dress shirt. "Better?"

George's brown eyes looked me up and down once, twice, three times before he nodded. "Yeah. Perfect. Not that I'm complaining, but why did McLeod make you dress like that just to go to a school Quidditch match?"

"Keeping up appearances," I replied with a shrug as we continued walking toward the pub. "The best team in the league must be the best-dressed team in the league at all times. We must present a united front. We're not allowed to wear anything other than team colors on our way to or from practices or matches, we must keep our hair short and well-maintained at all times, we aren't allowed to have any visible tattoos or wear any kind of nail polish or have anything like that, and any time we go anywhere as official Magpies representatives — tournaments, interviews, scouting trips, anything like that — we need to wear our official Magpies jacket over a crisp white dress shirt with black slacks and black loafers."

"So basically you can't do anything that would dare to suggest that you are individuals with free will as opposed to just McLeod's perfect little team?" George asked, eyes glinting furiously.

I nodded. "Yeah, essentially."

"What bollocks," he muttered as we entered the pub. "You should be allowed to wear colors, for Merlin's sake. Your 'team colors' are black, white, and grey." He smiled at the man coming over to us. "Table for two, please."

"Are you gents alright with sitting at the bar?" he asked. "You could wait for a table too, but it might be a while."

George glanced at me, and I shrugged as I nodded, so we were soon seated side-by-side at the bar.

The bartender appraised the two of us with a critical eye. "You both look like you could use a drink. What brings you here tonight?"

"We just visited a friend of ours in the hospital," I said with a sigh. "She was in an accident, shattered her arm. She's something of a younger sister in everything but blood to both of us, so it's been a bit of a long day."

The bartender leaned forward and rested her elbows on the bar, offering me a sympathetic look. "With an accent like yours, I'm guessing you'd be interested in the fact that we got a new bottle of Islay Scotch today?"

I nodded. "That sounds excellent, thank you." I glanced at George. "You want your usual?"

"Nah, I want Lucy's usual today," he replied with a sad smile before turning to the bartender. "An Old Fashioned, please."

"Coming right up!" she said cheerfully as she shuffled off to prepare the drinks.

"You've taken her drinking enough times that she has a 'usual?'" I asked in disbelief.

"Oi, don't take that tone with me, Furls, I saw you pour a bit of your cinnamon schnapps into her drink on New Year's."

I chuckled. "Yes, well, Cedric told me she used to add cinnamon to everything when she was a kid, so I figured the more grown-up version of that was adding cinnamon liquor to her drink on the cusp of the year she'd be turning 17. She seemed to enjoy it, at any rate."

"I didn't even know she was a cinnamon person," George commented. "When we were trying to get her to drink coffee over summer, we tried adding cinnamon, she hated it."

The bartender returned at that moment with our drinks, and someone came by to get our food order a couple seconds later. George ordered a serving of schnitzel to-go in addition to his own meal, explaining that he'd swing back by the Hospital Wing that night and deliver it to Lucy, who mentioned in nearly every letter she wrote him that she wanted her first meal of the summer to be that specific pub's schnitzel. He asked again about the cinnamon, reminding me of what we'd been discussing before being interrupted.

"Oh right, yeah, Lucy loved cinnamon as a kid and used to try to put it on just about everything. She understandably didn't love it on everything, but according to Cedric, she always put a lot of it on pancakes and eggy bread and hot chocolate and butterbeer. He said she did it less as she grew up, but I figured she'd enjoy the cinnamon liquor," I added with a shrug. "I — " I paused, thinking for a second about what I'd said. Maybe cinnamon was something that had tied Lucy to the Everlins, something she had unconsciously craved in the earliest days of being separated from them. Maybe she had wanted it less and less as more and more time passed. I would have to ask her about that next time we had a moment alone. I wasn't sure how long I'd spaced out before I remembered that I had been mid-sentence. "Sorry, I forgot what I was going to say."

"Are you okay?" George asked right away, leaning closer and looking deeply into my eyes.

"I didn't space out in the bad way," I assured him. "Sorry, I just genuinely got lost in thought thinking about something else Lucy-related. It's sweet of you to think to bring the schnitzel, I'm sure she'll enjoy that. Good luck sneaking that in, though."

George's jaw dropped indignantly. "Luck? I don't need luck. I'm insulted, Mr. Magpie."

"Apologies, Mr. Mischief, I shouldn't have doubted your sneaking abilities. I have, after all, only been woken up by you a couple of times since I've taken up residence on your sofa."

"In my defense, one of those was intentional because it was your birthday!" he protested.

I grinned, remembering the loud blast of music that had started my day on Tuesday. "Yeah, I reckon I deserved that one after what I did on your birthday last year with the Walkmans. I still can't believe you found a way to make invisible headphones that only play music when McLeod's yelling."

"Well, they are still limited because they can only play one song, but..." George sighed. "McLeod is such a prick I figured you deserved a way to tune him out during practices when he's being particularly cruel. Have you figured out what song you want it to play yet? I can enchant those tonight, if you have."

"I still think you should charm them with your favorite song," I replied.

"But it's your birthday gift," he argued with a frown.

"Yeah, from you."

"But it's your birthday gift," he said again.

Before we could go back and forth another round, the food arrived, and I inhaled three bites in rapid succession.

George nodded approvingly. "Lucy was right, you didn't get a chance to eat earlier, did you?"

"I was a little busy watching the longest school match I've ever seen," I replied with a shake of my head. "For what it's worth, though, I was so stressed the whole time I wasn't exactly hungry. I know we've talked at length about how well Lucy played, but Ginny had a brilliant match, too. You and Fred should be very proud of those girls, you trained them well."

"They really trained themselves. Lucy told us over summer that they used to sneak out in the middle of the night when they couldn't sleep just to practice. We let her think that was news to us."

I cocked my head. "If they were sneaking out, how did you know?"

"Our best friend Elizabeth, of course," he said, winking.

"Who's Elizabeth?"

"Everyone else knows her as the Fat Lady, the Gryffindor portrait who comes up with the passwords. It really pays to befriend the portraits, you know, they have the best gossip. Anyway, she mentioned once that they'd disappeared for a couple hours in the middle of the night, so Fred and I put a painting between our beds so she could come tell us whenever they'd snuck out again. We liked to make sure they stayed out of trouble, both sneaking in and out of the castle and on the Pitch. They never needed our help, which is why they didn't know that one or both of us always followed them, but, well, we felt better knowing we had their backs. Between the PVT and Filch and everything else going on last year, we figured it couldn't hurt to be careful, you know?"

I nodded, something warm swelling in my chest as I recalled Lucy's words from New Year's Eve. "To be loved by George Weasley is a marvelous thing," she had said, talking mostly about me. Lucy knew very well how much George loved her, but he loved her even more than she knew. It had been evident in the way he'd rushed to her bedside that evening, the way he'd asked her gentle question after gentle question to make sure she was truly okay, the way he'd always had her back in everything and the way he'd continue looking out for her whatever happened to come next. There was something marvelous about the way George loved his family, the way he loved Lucy and Angelina and Alicia, the way he loved his flesh and blood sister, the way he loved Harry and Archie and Lee, the way he loved his flesh and blood brothers, and the way he loved me.

I cleared my throat as I forced it all away and tried to not sound as lovestruck as I was feeling in that moment. "Yeah, I understand. They're lucky to have you both. We all are."

George reddened slightly, expression going neutral as he busied himself with his food. I followed suit, because I really was hungry.

The pub was loud because it was full, which is why we were able to talk so freely about the wizarding world, but louder than all of the chatter was a radio blasting from somewhere in the bar area. I listened as I shoveled more shepherd's pie into my mouth, but I choked when I realized what song was playing.

The bartender happened to look over at that exact moment, and she chuckled. "You alright there?"

"Is this 'Basket Case' by Green Day?" I managed as I tried to swallow.

"Well, well, well, who would've thought a clean-cut golden-haired boy like you would know a song like this?" she asked as her smile widened.

"My friend Alasdair is a big fan, has been since 39/Smooth," I explained. "This is his favorite song at the moment, I'd recognize it anywhere."

"Wow, who hurt him?"

I snorted. "His girlfriend's going to school in the States. He misses her terribly."

"You heard the rumors that they've got a new album in the works?"

"I haven't heard that yet, no, but that's wicked!"

"Sure is." The bartender walked closer and started aggressively drying glasses, her eyes bright with interest. "Which album is your favorite so far?"

"I'm afraid I haven't listened to enough Green Day to have an opinion, sorry," I confessed. "My favorite bands all peaked before I was born. My father raised me to appreciate Scotch and sports, my mother raised me to appreciate 60s and 70s music."

The bartender nodded slowly. "I respect that, Golden Boy." If I had any outward reaction to the nickname she'd just bestowed upon me, the one that had always belonged to Cedric, she missed it as she smiled at me. "I can always get down to a good Queen song. My girlfriend really loves being a dramatic little shit and singing 'Love of My Life' at me every time I have to leave for work."

I smiled. "She has good taste."

"In women or in music?"

"I, er, don't think I'm a proper authority on taste in women, but you seem lovely, and I think you both have good taste in music," I said after a long second, face heating.

The bartender laughed. "Don't worry, I was just teasing you. I've had you two clocked since you walked in. Forgive me if this is too forward, but are you two together? I've been getting first date vibes all night."

I was stunned into silence, face heating even more as I tried to think of something to say in response to that. To my surprise, George beat me to it.

"No, I wish," he said with a sigh.

I turned my head slowly to face him. His eyes were wide, and he clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Did I say that out loud?" he asked from behind his hand.

The bartender laughed loudly. "Oh, now I've done it, haven't I? Yeah, Copper Top, you did, you just said you wished you were together. Anyway, I'll let you two talk about that privately, and by privately, I mean I'll be pretending not to eavesdrop but totally eavesdropping. Let me know if I can get you any more drinks!"

With that, she winked at us and walked away, whistling along to the last notes of the song.

George was still staring at me with wide eyes as he lowered his hand from his mouth. "Sorry."

A disbelieving chuckle escaped me. "Why?"

"I shouldn't have — I don't know where — I — "

"Well, did you mean it?" I asked shyly.

George blinked several times in rapid succession. "I — er — well — I — yeah — but — well — yeah."

I felt myself smiling. "Really?"

"Well — yeah — but — is that — can I?" George stammered, eyes widening further.

"Can you what?" I asked.

His voice was little more than a whisper. "Can I wish that?"

"Well, to repeat your words back at you from when I told you I fancied Cedric, it's not 'morally corrupt' of you to wish that," I replied as I teasingly poked his shoulder.

"But I — I don't know if I — I think I might fancy girls too, I think I used to fancy Alicia, but now I think I — I think I — no, now that I actually really think about it, I know I fancy you, but can I — is it allowed? Am I allowed to — to fancy — "

"Yes," I interrupted, nodding, smiling, "you're allowed. That's not 'morally corrupt' either. I believe what you're describing in disjointed panicked fragments is called bisexuality."

"Can I wish that?" he asked again breathlessly. "Can I wish that we were together?"

"George," I said with a laugh, "yes. I wish that too."

George's eyes were so wide I feared they'd burst out of his head or something equally whimsically comical. "Wait. You — wait. You what? Does that mean — do we — can we — wait." George stared at me intently. "Do you fancy me?"

I nodded, grinning. "Yes, George, I fancy you."

"And I fancy you, Henry," he said, serious, clearly thinking very hard about what he was going to say next. "Okay. I mean, we — we couldn't — unless we could — I think we could — should we — should we, you know... be together?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could say anything, I became suddenly aware of the song that was playing on the radio and couldn't stop myself from laughing.

"I'm not laughing at you or your suggestion, I promise," I said immediately, "but listen to the song playing right now."

George tilted his head to the side, listening hard.

She says, "We've gotta hold on to what we've got
It doesn't make a difference if we make it or not
We've got each other and that's a lot for love
We'll give it a shot"

"Well..." George said slowly, a smile spreading across his face. "I mean... could we? Should we?"

"I think 'should' is a strong word given the state of the world right now, but, well, I'd like to take a page out of Bon Jovi's book and 'give it a shot' anyway." I smiled. "I fancy you and you fancy me, right?"

George nodded. "I do. I really do. I think I have for a while. I just — I didn't realize it until it slipped out just now and — I feel stupid. Wait. You really do fancy me?"

"Yes, I really do fancy you," I confirmed with a nod. "I have for a while too, but I did realize it. Well, in all honesty, Lucy helped me realize it."

"She helped me realize too, in a way," he said, reddening. "Do you remember what she said right before we left?"

"Something about what she told you last week about joy?"

"Yeah. She told me to find something that makes me happy and let myself claim it. I think maybe she — maybe she meant someone, meaning you."

"She and Fred have been trying to get us together since summer," I said.

"They have?"

I laughed. "Yeah, they have. Menaces, those two. Archie joined in, too, once he realized what was going on."

"Am I the last person to know I fancy you?" George asked incredulously.

I glanced at the bartender, who was looking at us with a bright smile on her face. I turned back to George and nodded. "I think so. It's okay, though, I understand. You didn't even realize you fancied boys until a couple minutes ago. I know that's a large leap to make, and I can imagine it's an even larger leap if you fancy girls too."

"I — I suppose so," he stammered. "Bisexuality, you said?"

"Yeah, I think that's the word for it based on what you told me. You don't have to use a label if you don't want to, though, and it's okay if you realize you're something else. We can look into it together if you want, okay? And you don't have to tell anyone else about any of this until you're ready. I know it can be scary, telling people something like this."

George nodded. "Okay. I just — I fancy you. I think you're brilliant, you're so kind and hard-working and loyal to what and who you love. I love making you laugh. It's my favorite thing and it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. My world is better with you in it. And I love when we're together, just the two of us, and I think you're very fit, and — " He froze, eyes going wide again. "I think maybe I'd like to snog you when we're alone, if you'd like that too."

"I'd like that," I assured him, smiling wider than I had in longer than I could remember. "I love the way you love people, George Weasley. I'm pretty sure the moment I fell in love with you was when you cleaned the blood off my face last June and asked me what I think the world would have been like with Cedric still in it. You cared so much about me, about what I thought, about all of us." I swallowed hard. "I still love and miss Cedric, I always will, you should know that, but what I feel for you is unique to you, I promise. I've fallen in love with the way you love people and try to make their lives better. You really don't need to try, you know, just your existence makes people happy, but you try so hard anyway and it's incredible to watch."

"So — are we — er — boyfriends?"

"I'd like to be your boyfriend, if you'd like to be mine," I said.

George grinned. "I'd like that."

"WOO HOO!" The bartender rushed back over and slammed down three champagne glasses in front of us. "You two are adorable. Idiots, apparently, but adorable idiots. My name's Sam, by the way. I heard you're George and Henry, not Copper Top and Golden Boy. Anyway, this calls for champagne, on me!"

When she hurried away to grab a bottle of champagne, she started the song over and cranked it up even louder. Sam filled our glasses to the brim and lifted her own.

"To being gay and in love," she said in a voice lower than the music but loud enough for us to hear.

I let myself laugh as I clinked my glass against theirs and echoed her toast in the same low voice.

What a whirlwind of a day. I felt like I had just apparated, truly, with no idea of where I'd be by the end of the journey, but as long as George Weasley was there with me, I found that I didn't care. His beautiful brown eyes were still a little stunned, still a little disbelieving, still a little confused, still a little apprehensive, but glowing with warmth anyway as they met mine.

I lifted the glass to my lips and let the bubbles dance across my tongue and dissipate, thinking how similar they were to fireworks, really, as they ignited me from the inside out.