Playing With Fire * { Fred Weasley }

Another Dastardly Plan

You have probably noticed a theme in this account: despite my tendency to overanalyze and overthink, I have a tendency to miss hints and clues that are glaringly obvious. If I'm being entirely honest, you probably have a better idea of what's going to happen in this story than I did when I was going through it. And while it wasn't until summer that my carefully woven tapestry began to unravel, I began picking at those threads much earlier than that—and there were two events in the spring—one in April and one in May—that would have clued me in if I'd been paying attention.

It was a Saturday afternoon in mid April and I was studying in the common room for an upcoming Charms exam. I was sitting on my usual couch with Fred, who was lying on his back with his head in my lap, the book of fairy tales I'd given him propped up on his stomach. I'd reached the point where my eyes were starting to itch to look at anything other than my textbook or notes, but I still had enough to do that a break still seemed out of reach. I set my textbook aside and rubbed my eyes.

"Ready for a break?" asked Fred, looking up at me.

"I'd like to get through this chapter first," I said. "I just need to rest my eyes for a moment."

"Suit yourself." He looked back at his book and frowned. "I'm not entirely certain that I understand the motivations of this sea witch. She's performing some very complex magic for very little payoff."

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. "And what would be your going rate for turning a mermaid into a human?"

"I'd ask for something better than a voice, I can tell you that." He tapped the illustration of the sea witch. "I mean, look at this. It's no wonder she's living in a cave in the depths of the ocean, she's drastically underpricing her services. She could have a proper underwater mansion if she were doing this right."

"Should I be concerned about you turning into a fairy tale villain?"

"Only in the sense that I would be utterly unstoppable if this is the caliber of villain that they're dealing with. No one thinks anything through. And the mermaid's no better, she's not even properly met this prince and she's gambling her soul..."

I bit back a smile and ruffled his hair as he returned to reading. I rubbed my eyes again. Was it possible for your eye muscles to become so fatigued that your eyes just gave up and rolled out of your head? It certainly felt like it.

My gaze eventually drifted to Bea and George, who were sitting at one of the tables and studying. Or, rather, Bea was trying to study and George seemed to be doing his best to distract her from studying. I watched them for a moment, idly playing with Fred's hair.

The sunlight was pouring in from the open window and from here, it looked a bit like Bea had a halo, especially with her hair all loose and curly around her shoulders. George had his chin propped up in his hands and was saying something with the same wide sort of grin that I often saw from Fred—the one that always told me when he was up to no good. Bea looked up from her notes and said something back to him, her lips curled into a sarcastic sort of smirk. George nudged her shin under the table and said something, his grin growing wider. She chucked her quill at him and he barely dodged it, laughing when it spattered ink on the edge of his shirt.

Something was beginning to take shape in my mind as I considered George's presence at the table, all the times I'd seen him touch Bea's arm or shoulder, the way his eyes crinkled up at the corners when she made him laugh, fact that he seemed completely unbothered by the ink that now stained the collar of his shirt.

"Is your brother macking on my best friend?" I asked Fred quietly.

"Yes," he said, without looking up from his book.