𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝; 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡.𝐩

𝓨𝓮𝓪𝓻 2, 𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 5: 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓦𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓸𝔀

Y/N groaned and scooted closer to me—and I had to fight back a smile. "I'll gladly take being in a coma for the rest of my life over being stuck with Mr. Brunson until I'm seventeen."

"Same."

"You know," Y/N said, putting her head on my shoulder—I tensed up and almost gasped—and staring up at the sky, "even though there's a maniac trying to kill us right now, at least I'm taking him on with you." And then she looked over and smiled at me.

I felt my face heat up as I stumbled over my words, trying to come up with a nonchalant response. "Um—yeah—we're t-taking—" And then I cut myself off and started again. "Yeah, we're taking him on together." And I smiled back, tentatively wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

She didn't seem to mind though—she snuggled closer to me, in fact. My grin got wider. We stayed like that for a few minutes, staring up at the inky sky which was dotted with stars, until she spoke up. "We should get going, shouldn't we?"

"Yep." But we didn't move from that position—at least, not a few minutes later.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Bonding with Harry seemed to make us closer than we already were—and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't nice having a best friend who shared the same troubles as me. We were in it together, as Harry said—and it comforted me that I wasn't being hunted down by a homicidal maniac alone.

But then he had wrapped his arm around my shoulders...

I felt my face heat up, and I felt slight butterflies in the pit of my stomach. I didn't know what the feeling was, but I shrugged it off. I'd figure it out later.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It took a long while to get started next morning. They were up at dawn, but somehow they still seemed to have a great deal to do. Mrs. Weasley dashed about in a bad mood looking for spare socks and quills; people kept colliding on the stairs, half-dressed with bits of toasts in their hands; and Mr. Weasley nearly broke his neck, tripping over a stray chicken as he crossed the yard carrying Ginny's trunk to the car.

Harry and Y/N couldn't see how eight people, eight large trunks, three owls, and a rat were going to fit into one small Ford Anglia. They had reckoned, of course, without the special features that Mr. Weasley had added.

"Not a word to Molly," he whispered to Harry and Y/N as he opened the trunk and showed them how easily it had been magically expanded so that the luggage fitted easily.

When at last they were all in the car, Mrs. Weasley glanced into the back seat, where Harry, Y/N, Ron, Fred, George, and Percy were all sitting comfortably side by side, and said, "Muggles do know more than we give them credit for, don't they?" She and Ginny got into the front seat, which had been stretched so that it resembled a park bench. "I mean, you'd never know it was this roomy from the outside, would you?"

Mr. Weasley started up the engine and they trundled out of the yard, Y/N and Harry turning back for a last look at the house. They barely had time to wonder when they'd see it again when they were back—George had forgotten his box of Filibuster fireworks. Five minutes after that, they skidded to a halt in the yard so that Fred could run in for his broomstick. They had almost reached the highway when Ginny shrieked that she'd left her diary. By the time she had clambered back into the car, they were running very late, and tempers were running high.