GEORGE:

"It sure was nice of the Magpies to finally have a match on a Saturday night so we could attend," Fred commented as we slid into our seats just in front of the commentary booth. We had a great view of the players warming up on the field, and I spotted Henry easily. He didn't realize we were there yet, and he didn't know that we weren't the only ones. Nearly the whole Order had shown up to support him, spread throughout the stadium so we didn't draw too much attention to ourselves.

Archie nodded as he sat down on my other side and cast a silencing spell so we could speak freely, not that there were too many people around anyway. "You two have been missing out. Their Chasers are particularly fun to watch." He elbowed me in the ribs. "You're not going to be watching the Chasers though, are you, George?"

"Oh, there are other people playing in this match?" I asked, making my eyes as wide and innocent as possible. "I didn't even realize."

Fred clapped me on the shoulder. "That's my boy."

"Let's get his attention," Archie said. He got to his feet and placed his thumb and forefinger in his mouth before releasing an ear-splitting whistle. "Oi!"

The sound successfully attracted Henry's attention, and he offered us a brief beaming smile before returning his attention to the drills the Magpies were running in preparation for the match. Alasdair Maddock followed Henry's gaze, and he smiled and nodded at us too.

"Such a shame the Quidditch Cup match was today so we couldn't try to bring any of our school-bound friends along," I commented. "I reckon Lucy would have swooned if Alasdair Maddock had smiled and nodded at her just now."

"We should look ahead at the schedule and see when the Magpies play the Harpies next, we could bring Ginny and Lucy along," Fred suggested. "I'm sure Ron would enjoy seeing the Magpies play the Cannons. Any idea what Harry's favorite team is?"

"Whatever Lucy's is, most likely," I replied.

Archie snorted. "That's a fair guess. In all fairness, though, I'm sure the Gryffindor Quidditch co-captains would just be happy to see any professional match."

"Right you are, Graye, right you are. Have you heard anything back from Cam yet, by the way? You wrote her earlier this week, didn't you?"

"Yeah. She told me that our Potions buddies miss my, and I quote, 'cheerful masochism,' whatever that means."

Fred laughed. "That's a fair assessment. I'm glad you were able to send letters back and forth without any issues this time. I know the other Slytherins tend to get to her mail first and destroy it."

"It happened to both of us when we were both still there, but..." Archie sighed. "Summer will be here soon enough. Sending mail back and forth will be easier then."

"You could visit her more easily, too, I reckon," I said. "Her parents should be joining the Order soon enough, according to Tonks. She's been talking to them quite a bit and they seem like they wouldn't say no if we asked at the right time,"

"I just hope she doesn't get any ideas about joining too," Archie muttered. "I worry enough about her knowing she's as safe as possible at school. If she was working with us, Merlin, I'd never sleep again. She's capable, of course, but I'd still feel better knowing she was as far removed from danger as possible."

"Honestly, mate, I doubt anyone would recruit her before Lucy and Harry join up officially, if that makes you feel any better," I said with a shrug. "She's brilliant, but she's not you, and she's not them. And Lucy and Harry aren't allowed to join yet, so I wouldn't worry too much about it. Besides, I doubt her parents would let her either. They've already lost one child, before the war started back up again. I don't think they'd be in any hurry to risk losing another."

Archie sighed and nodded. "Right. Thanks. I just feel better when I'm the one in danger, you know? My own safety is one matter, but when it comes to the people I love..."

"How very Gryffindor of you," Fred quipped.

"Oh, now you've gone too far!" Archie protested. "My ambition and my cunning and my resourcefulness are my greatest strengths! Don't even speak to me of bravery. Bravery is meaningless without an ambition to fuel it. Bravery with no end goal is just stupidity and recklessness disguised as something noble. I am very proud to be a Slytherin and not a Gryffindor, excuse you, Fred Weasley."

Fred laughed. They had this debate on a weekly basis, sometimes even more often than that. Archie would tell Fred he would have been a great Slytherin, Fred would pretend to be offended, they'd bicker. Fred would accuse Archie of being Gryffindor material, Archie would pretend to be offended, they'd bicker. It was an entertaining exchange each time, and it always made Henry, the tried-and-true Hufflepuff, laugh every time. Of course there was no real animosity there, but they had a great deal of house pride as well as a great deal of similarities, both to each other and to the house the other person belonged to. They continued bickering as I gazed out at the players and just watched Henry. He was flying side-by-side with Alasdair, and I could tell from the way their lips were moving in unison that they must have been singing something together quietly, which Henry had told me they often did on two occasions: when they were drunk, and before a particularly stressful match. The Ballycastle Bats had been competitive all year, and this match was certainly an important one, a heated rivalry match that would likely dictate the momentum both teams had through the rest of the season, but I wasn't sure why they were so nervous — they were Montrose Magpies players, for Merlin's sake.

Henry must have felt my eyes on him, because he shot me another grin as they soared past the spot where we were sitting. I returned it, happy to see him smiling after all of the times I'd seen him come back from Quidditch practices and matches and tournaments looking defeated because of Cormack McLeod, who berated Henry even when they won their bloody matches.

Cormack McLeod. Surely that bastard's around here somewhere. Maybe I could hex him and make it look like an accident.

Henry had told me before that McLeod always preferred to watch the match by himself, not in the commentary box or surrounded by the other Magpies staff. McLeod claimed it was so he could focus; everyone else knew that it was because he often got so invested in the game ("invested" meaning "furious because they were never playing well enough to satisfy him") that he'd lash out at whoever or whatever was around him, and he really didn't want to have to deal with any penalties or fines for destruction of person or property at every match. I scanned the stands with my binoculars looking for him — I'd seen him in pictures, I knew I was looking for a short angry-looking man with an awful haircut and muscles so ridiculously and grotesquely bulging he looked like he'd been pumped full of air like a balloon — but I didn't see anyone meeting his description. I was able to find all of the Order members in attendance, even Tonks in her Metamorphagus disguise, but not McLeod. I swiveled my head to look at the commentary box above us, but he wasn't there either.

"What's wrong?" Fred asked when I turned back around.

I shook my head. "Nothing's wrong, necessarily, but I can't find Cormack McLeod."

"Well, the match hasn't started yet," Archie said reasonably. "Maybe he's just making a last-minute trip to the loo. Doesn't Henry always say that man spends more time drinking coffee than breathing air?"

"Yeah, he does," I relented. "You're right, chances are he's punishing porcelain somewhere."

Before long, the stadium filled up, the match was underway, and I forgot all about Cormack McLeod. I loved Quidditch, truly I did, and I'd missed watching it. Henry was brilliant, because of course he was. He was mesmerizing, truly, glowing in the light of the magical orbs that floated over the stadium to make it as bright as daytime.

I was so distracted by Henry that I didn't realize anything was wrong until I heard the first scream.

My head whipped in the direction of the sound and I located it, at least 300 meters away to my left, just as the Dark Mark went up in the sky. I was on my feet in an instant, drawing my wand as Archie jumped into action, Fred and I just a breath behind him. I glanced over my shoulder for a split second to make sure Henry was okay. He was already looking at me, flying as fast as he could in our direction, panic written all over his face.

The stands were beginning to shake with the frenzy of thousands of panicked people. It was impossible to tell what was going on at first, I was just running in the direction of the screams to try to help, but then I saw the unmistakable black hoods of Death Eaters, popping up all around us.

I opened my mouth to warn the others, but before I could, Archie, who was running in front of us, got hit with something right in the face, and he started to topple forward, clutching the right side of his face as he shrieked in pain.

"NO!" Fred shouted as we reached for him as one to try to stop, or at least slow, his fall.

Henry appeared suddenly, diving into the chaos to catch Archie and swing him up onto his broom before he could hit the ground. I'd seen Archie injured before, many times, but he'd never made a sound like that before. Blood gushed out from behind his hands as he continued to clutch his face, the one eye that was visible glazed over in pain.

"GET HIM OUT OF HERE!" I yelled.

"WHAT ABOUT YOU?" Henry called back over the roar around us.

"WE'RE NOT ALONE!" I shouted. "GET HIM OUT OF HERE, WE'LL BE BACK SOON!"

Henry looked reluctant to leave us, but when Fred and I both shouted at him to go, he disapparated with a loud crack, Archie and broom and all.

I grabbed Fred by the shoulder, and without a word spoken between us, we went to stand back-to-back, firing spells at any Death Eater we could get in a clear line of fire. We were aiming to immobilize and confuse our targets, not kill, but they had no such reservations. We had to dodge a fair number of green spells, but that was okay. We were together. Nothing bad ever happened to us when we were together. It was when the infamous Weasley twins were separated that we ran into trouble.

Soon enough, we had handled all of the threatening people in our vicinity, and a quick glance around the stadium confirmed that our fellow Order members in attendance were doing the same. A lot of people had disapparated like Henry, but not everyone had been able to do so. Bodies littered the stands, and it was hard to tell if they were injured or dead. Still others were running toward the nearest exit, and the Quidditch players who hadn't already disapparated were rescuing whoever they could, grabbing uninjured people by hands and arms and flying away or grabbing injured people and disapparating.

"Let's get these people to safety, then see if anyone else needs our help," I panted to Fred, who nodded.

He cupped his hands over his mouth. "Oi, any non-Death Eaters who want to get out of here, follow us! Anyone who's particularly gifted with Defense Against the Dark Arts, hover near the back of the group to make sure no one tries to attack us from behind! Anyone who's injured and needs extra help getting out of here, er, find a big strong person to help you, I guess! Come on, let's go!"

We led the way as quickly as possible, catching Shield Charms left and right as we hurried to the closest exit and the number of people following us continued to grow as we hurried from section to section. Once we reached the corridor, we planted ourselves on either side of the exit and ushered people through, continuing to cast Shield Charm after Shield Charm after Shield Charm over the people trying to evacuate. It was a nonstop stream of people, Magpies fans and Bats fans alike leaning on each other for support, trying to stop each other's bleeding, pushing each other into the corridor, shouting words of encouragement at each other, all sense of rivalry forgotten. Just good people trying to help other good people survive this encounter with bad people.

In time, the flow of people running out the exit slowed to a crawl, and the stadium around us went largely quiet.

Tonks apparated in front of us, face bloodied but still intact. "You two alright? Moody spotted you, but he didn't see Henry or Archie so he sent me over here."

"Archie got hit," Fred replied, his voice tight. "It looked bad, so we told Henry to get him out of here."

"Oh." Tonks looked like she'd had the breath punched out of her. She loved Archie, and the feeling was mutual. "Mad-Eye and Kingsley should have everything here sorted, you should head back and check on him. I'll explain the situation and see what I can do to help here. Everyone else is okay, by the way. Let me know how Archie's doing, will you?"

I nodded. "Of course. Thanks, Tonks."

She nodded and disapparated, and I glanced at Fred.

"Let's check our flat first," he said, correctly reading my mind. "If they're not there, we'll check headquarters, then Henry's flat, then St. Mungo's."

I nodded, and with that, we disapparated, landing in the kitchen.

"Henry?" I called. "Archie?"

"In here!" Henry shouted from the direction of the den.

We sprinted into the room, where Archie was sprawled, either asleep or unconscious, on Henry's bed. It looked like someone had tried to peel back the skin of his face, starting at his right eye and pulling in the direction of his ear from forehead to jaw. The bleeding had stopped, and thick black stitches appeared to be holding his face together, but Merlin it looked awful.

"I went with him to St. Mungo's right away," Henry explained, voice trembling. "We got there before anyone else from the match did, so they were able to stop the bleeding and stabilize him, but people with worse injuries started to flood in so they just stitched him up and tossed me a medical kit and told me to use the dittany inside and said we should come back if the stitches don't fuse the skin back together within 24 hours. I was assured that they're magic stitches, so they should heal him up without a problem, but..."

"It's okay," I said, pulling Henry into a tight hug. "It's going to be okay."

He hugged me back so tightly I would have feared for my ribs if I hadn't needed the stability of Henry so desperately. "I'm glad you're alright. Both of you."

"Alasdair's okay, too," Fred piped up. "He was flying people to safety. Most of your teammates were. A couple disapparated with injured people, like you. I think they were all safe."

Henry broke away, eyes wide with panic. "I should go back, McLeod will have my head if I'm not there for a post-match debrief, I didn't even think of that — "

"What?" I asked. "Henry, no, don't go back. Merlin only knows what you'll find there. He's just going to assume everyone got out safely and didn't want to go back, within reason. You're all adults, it's not like you're students that he's responsible for — "

"He's not reasonable," Henry protested, shaking his head. "You two can keep an eye on Archie, I'll be back — "

Before I could protest again, he had disapparated.

"I hope McLeod was one of those bodies on the stands that we saw," Fred remarked.

"Bodies?" Archie croaked.

We both turned to see that his eyes were open, just barely.

"You — well, I was going to say you missed out on the action, but you actually got more than your fair share," Fred quipped. "The rest of the Order's got it sorted. Tonks sent us back to check on you. She was worried."

"I'm guessing Henry disapparating woke you up. How are you feeling?" I asked.

Archie just groaned in response, so I reached for the dittany.

"I don't even know what the spell was," he mumbled. "Felt like someone was trying to rip my face off. I was holding my face to my face."

I winced. "That's awful, mate, I'm sorry. Where d'you want the dittany? Am I supposed to put it over the stitches, or...?"

"I was in and out of consciousness, I don't know, ask Henry," Archie replied. "Where did he go, anyway?"

"Something about McLeod killing him if he wasn't there for a post-match debrief." Fred shrugged. "We tried to tell him not to bother, but he seemed disproportionately anxious about it so he left."

Archie managed to look incredulous even with the line of stitches down his messed-up face. "Post-match debrief? What the hell would McLeod even say? 'We were winning by 30 and then all hell broke loose. Practice is canceled for this week. Sweet dreams.'"

"Bold of you to assume he'd cancel practice for any reason, asshole that he is," I muttered. "Anyway, I'm glad you're more or less alright. You scared us."

"Sorry I missed the fun. What happened after Henry left with me?"

Fred launched into an explanation of everything we saw and did, and he was just wrapping up the story when Henry apparated in the doorway, expression unreadable.

"Hey," Archie said, waving. "How was the post-match debrief that was so important you had to leave your dying friend?"

Henry blinked. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting to be gone so long — "

"Relax, I'm just giving you shit," Archie interrupted. "I know McLeod's a terror, and I'm not dying. It would take a lot more than that to kill me. It's insulting, really, that you think something like that would do me in."

"Right," Henry said, nodding, offering Archie a small smile. "Well, if you're taking the mickey out of me, you must be feeling better. I found Tonks, by the way, and let her know that you were going to be okay. She was happy to hear that. Anyway, sorry, I didn't mean to be gone so long, but we couldn't find McLeod anywhere. We finally found him running out of the locker room, he just told us to go home and said he'd send us an owl with the date of our next practice but that it would likely not be for a long time. He was acting very oddly, but, well, I suppose everyone's bound to be shaken up after that."

I blinked. "Not that I'm complaining, but... he said you have an indefinite number of days off? That seems so unlike him."

"I know," Henry replied with a heavy sigh. "We all thought the same, but, well, like you said, we're not complaining."

"Did you see his left forearm by any chance?" I asked, only half-joking.

"We were looking, believe me," Henry muttered. "I mean, truthfully it was only a matter of time before Death Eaters started targeting professional Quidditch matches, but — considering we already have reason to think McLeod might be a blood supremacist — "

"George was looking for him before the match," Archie piped up.

Fred nodded. "He couldn't find him. I looked too, I didn't see him either. Where did you finally find him, again? And how long did it take to find him?"

"That's unlike him," Henry said, his voice low. His brows knitted together as he got lost in thought. "He was running out of the locker room, quite a while after the Aurors arrived on the scene."

"You think maybe he was in there for a costume change?" Archie inquired.

Henry shrugged. "Could have been." He sighed. "I'll be sure to mention that to Alasdair. We agreed that we wanted to talk just the two of us once everything settled down a bit."

"You could bring him here," I suggested. "The five of us could put our heads together. We were just there to watch you. He doesn't need to know about the Order and the fact that nearly everyone else was there to watch you too."

"Everyone in the Order is okay, right?" Henry asked, eyes widening with alarm. "If everyone was there to see me — and someone got hurt — "

"Everyone's alright," I assured him with a nod.

Henry relaxed slightly. "That's good. Sorry everyone's first match was so..."

"Honestly, I think it's for the best that so many of us were there," Fred commented. "If there weren't so many competent duelers there when the Death Eaters started firing spells..."

Heavy silence hung in the room for several long seconds as we all finished the sentence for him in our minds.

I broke the silence, smiling as I said, "Well, let's just hope Remus had a far better day than we did. He went to watch the Quidditch Cup final since he heard that Slughorn wanted to catch up with him."

My comment earned me chuckles from everyone else in the room, so I smiled wider and announced that I was going to change clothes and go to bed early. When I finally got up to my room, though, there was a persistent tapping at the window. I raced over to it when I realized it was Malachi, Lucy's owl.

"Hey, what brings you here, mate?" I asked softly, untying the letter from his leg with trembling fingers. "Please tell me you're here with good news."

He hooted in response, but I didn't speak owl, so I slit the envelope and extracted the letter, reading it as fast as I could just to make sure everyone was okay and this letter wasn't a distress call.

Hi Georgie!
   Sorry for the lateness of the hour this will likely reach you, but I simply couldn't wait to tell you all about the positively insane week I've had to endure. Before you ask, yes, of course we won the Quidditch Cup again. No one even got hurt during the match this time! It was quick and clean, 220-30, we won, naturally. Luna was commentator again because Zacharias didn't dare show his face after the way our last two matches went for him. Ginny's writing a letter talking about the match in more detail, so that should arrive by morning, but I just really miss you and I wanted to write about more than just the match, but I'll get around to that too, I promise.
I know you know about the whole "Harry almost killing Draco with the same spell that almost killed me" incident, and I know I replied to all of your letters earlier in the week saying I was okay, but, well, that's not the entire truth. By the time I replied to your letter (and Fred's, and Henry's) I was feeling better enough to say I was okay without it feeling like a blatant lie, but I had to reach a breaking point and start building back up again before I could do that. I wish I could say I was a perfectly understanding little angel who handled everything with grace and compassion, but the truth is that I screamed in Harry's face before running off into the night by myself and hiding out in the Forbidden Forest until Tonks found me and brought me back to the castle. So. Your little Cub has sharp teeth. Harry's okay. I made it right, or at least I'm getting there. We've been working together all week to get through it. We both had a lot of feelings about everything. We're going to be okay, though. I know that conflict is inevitable and people aren't always going to see eye-to-eye on every little issue, at least not right away, but this is more or less the first time we've fallen out quite like that. It rattled me more than I'd care to admit to anyone except for apparently you. No one warns you that when you always try to see the best in people, you get blindsided by the moments they're not at their best. But like Hermione's been reminding me, being at your best 24/7 is an unreasonable expectation and nobody's perfect and thinking people are perfect just hurts everyone in the long run and all that. And that's a great thing to try to remember moving forward, but it doesn't take away from all of the hurt that's already happened before she managed to get that through my thick skull, you know? I love Harry, I do, very much, so I don't need you to beat him up for me or anything like that, I was unfairly hurt by something that really was just an accident, I realize that now, but the hurt still exists, you know? Merlin, sorry, I keep repeating myself, I just feel like I've run a race and I'm collapsing over the finish line. Apologize to Harry? Check. Try to make it right? Check. Scream at Snape? Check. Win the Quidditch Cup? Check. Write a letter to George spilling the secrets of my soul? Working on it. Once I check this box, I'm going to bed and sleeping until I have to get up for class on Monday, I swear to Merlin.
   Truly the highlight of my week was giving Snape a piece of my mind. It was even better than winning the Quidditch Cup. Long story short, Ginny remembered that the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries last June said that Snape not only invented sectumsempra but specialized in it, meaning what happened to Draco and what happened to me was his fault even though he didn't cast it himself against us. I just channeled all of the anger I had been feeling towards Harry and redirected it at Snape instead as soon as I realized Snape deserved it more than Harry did. I called him a monster to his face. I called him SNIVELLUS to his face. I berated him until he let Harry play in the match and changed the detention punishment altogether. He was going to make Harry sand down the initials James and Sirius carved into Professor Slughorn's desk that they specifically charmed to hex anyone other than Professor Slughorn who tried to remove the carvings. I'm a little concerned that he managed to find something less blatantly cruel but cruel regardless, but at least Harry won't suffer any bodily harm as a result of whatever Snape conjures up for him to do. I told Snape that if he ever attacked a student again and I heard about it, I'd expose him to the whole wizarding world for the monster that he really is. I don't know why the hell Dumbledore keeps that motherfucker around, truthfully, but he was spouting some "greater purpose" bullshit to me so it wouldn't surprise me if he heard that phrase from Dumbledore first. I'm just now realizing I missed an opportunity to call Snape a motherfucker to his face. Oh well. I think "monster" was more effective anyway, you should have seen the look on his face. He tried to throw that word back at me, but I just laughed him off. I'm loved, monster or not. He's got no one. (By the way, please don't mention to anyone else that he's the one who invented the spell. Part of the blackmail agreement was that I wouldn't tell anyone with any authority over him about it, but, well, that's why I'm sending Malachi to you in the middle of the night. I trust you both to keep the secret until I tell you it doesn't have to be a secret anymore.)
   Anyway, sorry for this long rambling letter at this hour in particular. I miss our late night chats in your flat's kitchen after Fred had called it a night. You absolutely don't have to reply in any kind of hurry — like I said, I intend to sleep until I have to get up for class on Monday. Sorry if this letter wakes you up, but I suppose I'm proud of you for actually being asleep in the first place if this does in fact wake you up. I'll have you know that my sleep schedule the past month has been superb, with the exception of the past couple days. I intend to impose my healthy habits upon you over summer. It's amazing how much better you feel when you need two hands to count the number of hours of sleep you get each night, you really should try it sometime.
I'm going to go to bed now before you or anyone else tries to make a comment about me being up late, but thanks for reading all of that. I miss you. I'm excited for summer. I hope you're all doing well over there. I suppose I started this letter talking about the match, so I should wrap it up talking about the match. We won by a rather large margin. Harry got the Snitch. Ginny and I barely let anything get even close to the goal hoops, and Ron barely let anything in that got within scoring range. I didn't break anyone's bones. Or, more specifically, nobody was behaving in a way that warranted having their bones broken by me, which is even better. I was sorely tempted to send a Bludger at Snape, but I settled for flipping him off at the end of the match. Harry and I are going to be detention buddies again, oh joy.
   Good night, Georgie. Love and miss you.
   Love, Lucy

I folded the letter back and returned it to the envelope with a soft sigh. Being away from Lucy when she was going through all of that was hard. I would feel better when she was back with us for the summer. I would do what I could to support her from afar, though. For what it was worth, it didn't sound like she really needed my help, anyway. She had Snape more than handled. Good for her.

Just the same, I found a scrap of parchment and started scribbling, careful to reply to her letter as thoroughly as I could with whatever emotional reserves I had left.

Ah, darling Cub, always lovely to hear from you, whatever the hour. I'm sorry you've stumbled into one of those life lessons you really only learn the hard way. As hard as you may find this to believe, as I comb back through the memories of my legendary life, I think I learned this lesson when Percy left. I thought the world of him, I did, despite what all of the teasing led him to believe, so the way that he so unceremoniously excused himself from our family was something of a rude awakening to the fact that good people are capable of doing bad things. I still love him, because how could I not? He's my brother. But, well, it's not always easy to love him as much as I do. I'm sorry you understand how that feels now, but to your credit and to Harry's credit, it sounds like you patched yourselves up in record time. I'm beyond proud of you for the way you handled Snape. You're an inspiration, truly. I look forward to verbally abusing him next chance I get, for his role in what happened to you. (The secret's safe with me know, Merlin knows there's plenty of other material at my disposal if I want to berate him.) From what I understand (and please correct me if I'm wrong because the version of events I've heard could be very far from the truth), Draco Malfoy had it coming, but you were eleven. You didn't deserve that. I know you'd never do anything to deserve that. I'll write you a proper letter once Malachi's rested up, but I wanted to send you a quick note back right away. I know you won't get this until morning anyway, with the mail screening and all, but I'm going to pretend we're just writing back and forth instantly anyway: go to sleep, you git. Merlin knows you've got years of sleepless nights to make up for. Serve your detention with honor, little hero, and if Snape's a prick to you, let us know. I know you could handle it again, but I'd love to have a turn to terrorize him. It's been too quiet around here anyway. Love and miss you as always. - George

P.S. Whatever you hear the next couple days, Henry's okay. We're all okay. Be careful. Keep your head down. Love you.

I rolled the scrap of parchment up and tied it with the same piece of string Lucy had used to send her letter. I opened the door with the intent of going downstairs to find a shop owl willing to deliver my note, but I was met instead with Henry, who froze, standing there in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Were you about to knock on my door?" I asked, amused.

Henry blinked, reddening. "Yes, after standing outside contemplating for a couple of minutes."

"What's the occasion?" I teased, letting myself look him up and down as I crossed my arms over my chest.

"I, er, was going to ask... well, Archie's in the place I always sleep, and I don't exactly want to go back to my own flat right now, especially not dressed like this, so I was wondering...?"

"Yeah, you can sleep in here with me," I said with a smile and a nod. "Let me just send this off. Lucy sent a letter, so I wrote a quick reply back. Help yourself to any clothes that fit. Or don't put any clothes on at all, it's up to you," I added, feeling brave despite the heat flooding my face.

"Oh yes, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Henry sassed back, even as he blushed and walked into my room.

I closed the door behind me as I hurried down the stairs. I found a willing and able owl messenger, and sent her off into the night with my note for Lucy. Just before I returned to the flat, I spied a familiar tattered overcoat making its way down the street, so I opened the shop door with a flick of my wand.

"Identify yourself and prove it!" I called.

"Remus Lupin," he called back as he walked through the door, a wide smile on his face, "and I can prove it's really me, because I was the one who hand-delivered your friends' little birthday gift to you, the envelope with all of the pictures, including a lovely photograph of Snivellus with Weasley-red hair. And who might you be?"

"George Weasley, the most reluctant Rottweiler this side of the Atlantic," I replied. "What brings you here, Remus?"

"I come bearing a note from your sister and her friends," he announced, holding up an envelope. "Ginny and Lucy spotted me on their way to the Owlery and asked if I'd mind delivering it to the shop myself so you could find out sooner about the brilliant match they played. I was waylaid by Horace Slughorn — Merlin, that man can talk — so I fear Lucy's letter may have already reached you with the news, but the girls told me Ginny's letter is far more descriptive — apparently the whole team contributed to the writing process — so this is the one you want to read for news of the match."

"Lucy barely told me anything about the match, so by all means come on up and bring that letter!" I said cheerfully.

Without a second of hesitation, Remus hurried up the stairs and followed me into the flat.

"Oi, I found this random werewolf on the street and invited him up for tea!" I shouted. "Says his name's Reams of Paper, and he's brought a letter from the Gryffindor Quidditch team!"

There was quite a ruckus on the staircase as Fred and Henry both rushed down, Henry wearing my purple t-shirt with a pair of my grey joggers. The joggers were a little short on him and the shirt was a little small, but he made it work. It was working quite nicely, in fact.

"Reams of Paper, was it?" Fred asked. "Nice to meet you, name's Gred and my less-handsome twin over there is Forge. The bloke in the ridiculous purple shirt is Fenry Hurls. Grarchie Aye is asleep in the other room, we can tell him all about it in the morning, I reckon he needs his beauty sleep. I'm guessing, based on your excited demeanor, that we won?"

Henry wrinkled his nose. "Who's this 'we' business?"

"Hush, we got kicked off the team last year, let us live vicariously through our successors," I said, collapsing into a chair at the dining table and reaching for a spiked butterbeer. I gestured for the others to join me. "So, we won?"

"The match lasted less than an hour," Remus reported as he lowered himself into a chair, "but yes, we won, 220-30."

"Who's this 'we' business?" Fred asked.

Remus chuckled and rolled his eyes, holding the envelope between his fingers. "Do you want to read this or not?"

"Yes, of course," Fred replied as he snatched it from Remus and ripped the letter open. He cleared his throat dramatically. "'Dear Fred and George and Henry and whoever else ends up reading this letter, WE WON THE QUIDDITCH CUP! Our darling co-captains (Lucy and Harry both squawked, looked at each other, and then blushed when I wrote that part and now they're protesting this additional parenthetical context) were tremendously helpful all year long and helped us secure this precious victory. Dennis Creevey, our all-star reserve player, was not necessary for this match, but he was a wonderful cheerleader from the sidelines and helped his brother, Colin, our smashing unofficially official team photographer, capture our highlights, a couple of which we've included in the envelope, to be viewed after you've read this letter. Our beloved Katie Bell was back, and she joined forces with the wonderful Demelza Robbins and dashing Dean Thomas to wreak absolute havoc on the poor Ravenclaw Keeper. Our exceptional Gryffindor Keeper, Ronald Weasley, who is vocally protesting my use of Ronald as opposed to Ron, had his best performance to date, only allowing three Ravenclaw goals, all of which were very near misses. Our Beaters are loath to brag about themselves — one (Lucy) in particular — but both Ginny Weasley and Lucy Diggory were quite spectacular, Lucy in particular. Lucy navigated the game with a speed, precision, and power previously unseen on the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch, all with an expression of the utmost determination on her lovely face, which is now once again turning a vibrant shade of red. Our Seeker, Harry Potter, was the true hero of the game, securing the Golden Snitch in what we suspect might be record time. His presence in the match was made possible by one Lucy Everlin Diggory, who successfully appealed to Professor Snape and convinced him that Harry should be allowed to play today instead of serving an awful detention during the match. All in all, this was a delightful match to end our disastrous season, but perhaps nothing was more delightful than Lucy sticking two very-proud fingers in Snape's face immediately after Harry caught the Snitch. (Yes, we've included a picture of that. Unfortunately, you're on your own when it comes to framing it, we couldn't find any.) Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall gave Lucy detention on the spot, so we're not entirely sure what that's about, but Lucy thinks it was worth it and the rest of us are inclined to agree. I believe that's about it from us, but we hope you've enjoyed this recap and you're all doing well. Lots of love from all of us!' Signed Ginny, Ron, Demelza, Dean, Katie, Dennis, Harry, and Lucy."

"I will be purchasing a picture frame as soon as stores open tomorrow," I announced as I reached into the envelope and found the picture of Lucy flipping Snape off. I cackled and cast an Engorgement Charm to make it poster-sized. "Please tell me Muggles make picture frames this size."

"Oh, they do," Henry said, laughing as well.

Remus chuckled. "That was one of the most entertaining Quidditch matches I've ever witnessed, and I've attended several in my day. I will say, Lucy doing that was unexpected, since I didn't have the additional context of what had happened between her and Snivellus earlier in the week, but it made sense to me without that context, honestly. It's been a long time coming."

"Damn right," Fred agreed. He pointed his wand at the picture, now poster-sized, on the table. "Geminio." A copy appeared next to it. "Get two picture frames. One for here, one for Grimmauld Place. I want him to walk into the next Order meeting and have this right in front of him the whole time."

"Well, good for them," Henry said. "I'm glad someone's match went well today."

"You lost to the Bats?" Remus asked, looking incredibly confused.

I grimaced. "Oh, I guess news hasn't traveled yet. Er... Death Eaters decided to show up at the match and start attacking people. There weren't many casualties, most people were able to get away safely, but... well, Archie's asleep in the other room because he got hurt. He's going to be just fine, but it was a bad hit."

"Oh. Damn. I had no idea. I'm sorry." Remus blinked. "And to think, I was just at Hogwarts having a grand old time — "

"It's not your fault, Remus," Fred interrupted. "We're glad you were there, honest. I'm sure it meant a lot to those kids that you were there."

Remus sighed and nodded. "Yes. Yes, they were quite excited when they saw me after the match and I said I'd seen it all. Sluggy was excited to see me, too. We talked for hours about... well, just about everything from the past twenty-five years or so. He was never my favorite professor, but he really did love the people in my little friend group."

"Who was your favorite professor?" Henry asked. "Anyone we know?"

"Well, officially, my favorite professor is Professor McGonagall, of course. I still feel strange about calling her Minerva because of how much respect I have for her."

"Unofficially, though?" Fred inquired.

Remus sighed again, this time smiling. "Professor Andrade. DADA professor in our sixth year. He had just graduated from Castelobruxo and wanted to 'see the world,' spending one year as a teacher at each of the other wizarding schools, starting with Hogwarts. 'When I Kissed the Teacher' by ABBA was heard in the Gryffindor common room nightly. I wonder where he is now. I hope he got to see the world and found his place in it."

"I'll be sure to keep an eye out for him, if he's as attractive as he sounds," Henry quipped.

Fred snorted. "Shit, I'll keep an eye out. I don't think I'm into blokes, but..."

I laughed, but Henry's comment stung. Just a bit, but a bit nonetheless. I wasn't sure why, so I shoved it aside, ignored it intentionally, and took another swig from my bottle. Remus stayed a little while longer before going back to headquarters to check in with everyone about what had happened at the match. Once he left, Fred immediately announced that he was going to bed, leaving me alone in the kitchen with Henry. I finished my butterbeer once I heard Fred's door close upstairs, and glanced at Henry.

"Nice shirt," I commented.

He glanced down at his shirt for a second, as if he'd forgotten what he was wearing, before looking back up at me with a bright smile. "Oh thanks, it's my boyfriend's!"

"Your boyfriend has excellent taste in clothes, then."

"I don't know if I'd go that far," he teased. "This shirt is a bit small on me."

"I fail to see why this is a problem," I replied with perfect sincerity.

"Oh." Henry blushed just a bit. "I see."

I got to my feet. "Well, I'm off to bed too. Care to join me?"

"Happily!"

Henry bounced to his feet, and we made our way up to my room. I realized once I got up there that I had gotten distracted by Malachi earlier and not changed out of my clothes from the match.

"Ah damn, I need to change," I said.

Henry glanced at me. "D'you want me to leave the room for a minute?"

I shook my head. "No, it's alright. I just need your help choosing what to wear to bed. Since, you know, you don't think your boyfriend has excellent taste in clothes."

"I was just kidding," Henry replied with a smile and roll of his eyes. "You can wear — or not wear — whatever you want. I don't care."

"Ah." I propped my chin on my hand, pretending to think, and just stared at Henry. "McLeod's a villain for not letting you wear colors more often. You look good in the black and grey and white too, don't get me wrong, but you look much happier wearing colors and I never get to see it anymore."

"I've worn colors before, George, I spent the past seven years in yellow."

"I favor the purple, personally."

"I was hoping so," Henry said. "It's your color."

"Oh, if you say so," I said with as much haughtiness as I could muster. "You flatter me, truly. Purple is my color, you say?"

"Oh, piss off, you know what I meant. It's your color in the uniform, right? Purple for you, blue for Lucy, orange for Fred. Purple's your color, blue is Lucy's, orange is Fred's."

I grinned. "Yeah, yeah, you're right."

I just wanted the compliment, I almost admitted. I just wanted you to see me, just me. I didn't, though.

I decided I wanted to shower before going to bed, so I grabbed a change of darted down the hallway to do that quickly. When I returned to my room, wearing only the bright purple joggers I'd gotten from Dad as a joke for my birthday (Fred had matching bright orange ones, and I could have sworn I spotted bright blue ones in Lucy's size in the laundry basket for her upcoming birthday), Henry's eyes widened and he wasted no time tossing aside the Walkman headphones he'd had over his ears just to jump up and kiss me hard.

I smiled into his lips as his strong hands gripped my waist. The little voice in my head that had just wanted a compliment had suddenly gone quiet. It would be back, because it always came back, but the respite was lovely.

Henry was lovely.