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ALBANY DIDN'T LET GO of George's hand as they entered the ballroom again, far too cheery and untroubled to care what anyone thought. She had her best friend back, and that was all that mattered to her. Her heart sang with glee in her chest, and his hand was warm where their fingers interlaced; she was on cloud nine.
The Weird Sisters were onstage and had struck up a banger of a tune, the massive crowd of students packed tight around them jumping and screaming. To the opposite end of the hall, Albany noted with amusement, was a queue of bald students getting their hair restored by Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall. Faith was not among them.
House elves were quietly replacing the goods on the desserts tables, ensuring nobody else lost all their hair that night. Albany grinned as she spotted Carly helping them out diligently, though the girl was not accompanied by any of their other friends.
"Lee's with Alicia and Angelina in the crowd," George pointed out brightly, nodding towards the edge of the jumping sea of students. He glanced around the rest of the hall curiously. "Where's Fred?"
"Can I get you a drink?" a rather loud voice was offering somewhere to their right.
Albany and George exchanged glances; that answered their question.
"No, Mr Weasley, I'll be alright, thank you," Ludo Bagman was replying politely, though seemed rather keen to get away from the determined redhead.
Fred waved away the rejection with confidence. "No worries, there's no need for drinks to have a conversation anyway," he said, donning his business smile. "So you might remember those fake wands we showed you back at the Quidditch World Cup...."
Albany raised a bemused eyebrow to George. "What's he doing?"
George was grinning sheepishly when he turned to her, ears a tad pink. He scratched at the back of his neck absentmindedly. "Well... you might remember those letters you caught us sending at the start of the year...."
Albany barely recalled it; September had been nearly four months ago, but it felt like years had passed since sixth year began. Vaguely, from the pits of her memory, she pulled the phrase illegal letters — and some form of recognition lit up her face. She raised her eyebrows at George, curious. That was one secret that still hadn't been divulged to her.
"I do remember," she replied with a knowing smile. "You were writing to... Bagman?"
"We bet him our life's savings on the results of the match at the Quidditch World Cup," George explained. He frowned. "When he paid us back, he gave us leprechauns' gold. Naturally, it disappeared, and we lost everything."
Albany's eyebrows furrowed. Bagman had always seemed such a jolly figure to her; not the kind to cheat teenagers out of their money. "Dick move," she said under her breath, scowling at the man in question.
George reached for the back of his neck again, sheepish grin returning. "Yeah, we tried blackmailing him, but it didn't really work. Fred's trying a different angle, I think."
But as Albany glanced to Fred, realisation clicked into place in her mind. It all made sense; how desperate the twins had been to enter the tournament, with the one thousand Galleon prize at stake. That was enough to set them up for life, and at the very least kick off their business. The Weasleys weren't the most well-off family as it was, and the twins had lost all of their savings to a man who, after five months, still had not paid them back. Now, Albany was competing where they had wanted so badly to. She blinked, surprised at herself. Maybe, if she did win....
"George?!"
Fred had spotted them before they could approach, and in an instant, his harassment of Bagman was forgotten and he charged straight for his twin brother. He paused a stride away from George, arms hesitantly held out as he glanced questioningly between the two.
"Are you—?" His face was frozen as he reluctantly met George's gaze. "You're back—?"
George beamed at him. "I'm back."
Fred's face lit up, and he threw himself around his brother without another wasted second. Albany couldn't help the warm smile that filled her whole face with joy as she watched the two hold each other as if they never had before. In the corner of her eyes, she noticed Merlin's presence; the wizard's arms were folded, though he wore a fond smile on his features, and his eyes were kind.
"That's my kid," he cheered, and the pride in his voice was evident. Albany heard him perfectly despite the racket of the hall, and she ducked her head sheepishly, face warming. "You see that? You did that."
She glanced to where Fred and George were now speaking joyfully to one another, and their friends from the dancing crowd were now rushing over too, faces gleeful. Her whole heart was blossoming with happiness.
"Thank you," she murmured softly. I did that. A thought crossed her mind, and her gaze dropped. "But... none of this would have happened if it weren't for me either. George wouldn't have ever been under a spell—"
"Albany," Merlin interrupted, raising his eyebrows at her. "Faith's actions are not your responsibility."
Albany bit her cheek. "She shouldn't have been able to do any of it. Her old magic—"
"Let me and Arthur take care of that," Merlin urged her, smiling. "You've earned yourself a break."
Reluctantly, Albany gave in. She smiled appreciatively at him. "Thank you."
Merlin grinned. "Enjoy your night, kid."
And Albany did.
After lengthy reunions between George and the rest of his friends, they were finally able to enjoy the Yule Ball for what is was — a dance. No more mysteries, or people in danger; they could just be teenagers without a care in the world. As the band on stage filled the air with upbeat music and lively tunes, Albany followed her friends into the energetic crowd. Packed so tight between the surrounding students, there was nobody to watch her if she danced horribly, and with the volume of the hall, nobody could hear if she sang horribly.
Except maybe George, who danced just as enthusiastically at her side, and didn't think she was a horrible singer or dancer at all.
She caught him staring as one of the songs came to a close, and paused her wild cheering, raising an eyebrow at the redhead.
"What?"
"I don't dance," he whined in a high-pitched voice, and she laughed, realising it was a mockery of her words from the Gryffindor party after the first task.
"Were you watching me?" she asked, face flushing as she smiled.
It was George's turn to look flustered. "I — I mean, you make it sound creepy!"
"Well then, let me amend my previous statement — I don't waltz," she corrected herself with a grin.
George raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I'll be the judge of that."
"Are you asking me to dance with you?"
"I thought that much was obvious."
Albany's cheeks warmed. "In that case, I accept. But Carly will tell you, I'm nothing to write home about. You might want protective shoes."
George laughed. "It's worth the risk, I reckon."
As if on cue, the Weird Sisters began to play a slower song, and the crowd dispersed, breaking into pairs of lovesick couples. Fred and Angelina wasted no time in resuming their passionate snog session from earlier, while Lee and Alicia giggled hysterically as they dared each other to bump into the couple as they danced past. Carly was waltzing with a taller girl in a flowy blue dress, and as she dipped her partner with a bright smile, Albany recognised Hermione Granger. The Gryffindor's eyes were red and puffy, though she was laughing and beaming as Carly twirled her, and Albany smiled to herself as she watched them.
"Are you stalling?" George challenged her playfully, offering her his hand.
Albany rolled her eyes in amusement, though let out a surprised laugh as George twirled her into his arms upon taking his hand. Her heart flipped in her chest as their bodies pressed together, and she smiled bashfully at him.
Dancing with Carly had been comfortable and relaxing; dancing with George was exhilarating and freeing. Butterflies filled her stomach every time she met his gaze, honest and starry. His smile was soft on his lips, the corners twitching every time he noticed her looking and sending blood rushing to her cheeks.
Somehow her feet fell exactly into place as he guided her, and even the twirls he sent her into felt steady in the firm grip of his hands. She giggled as he dipped her, drawn to the laughter in his eyes like a moth to the flame. She couldn't bring herself to look away from him, addicted to the euphoria he brought her and the loops her heart jumped the longer she surrendered to his gaze.
Sweet Merlin, how much she'd missed him in his absence.
You'd think I was in love with him, she thought to herself in amusement. Her eyes widened a fraction, muscles stiffening as she faltered mid-dance. Not that I am.
"Can I ask you a question?" George piped up, as they swayed to the music.
"S-sure," Albany stammered, a little caught off guard by her own mind. "What's up?"
George smiled at her. "How'd you lift the spell I was under? Was it a spell?"
"That's two questions," Albany teased, and he stuck his tongue out at her. She sighed, smile softening. "Carly's the one who figured out it was a spell. She traced magic or something where you'd been sitting, but didn't recognise it. We... er... did some research, and I found out it was old magic."
"Old magic?"
Albany nodded. "Magic used in — um, Merlin's time." She cleared her throat. "I — uh, found a book on it in the library. Took a while to figure out how to reverse the spell, but hey, it worked, didn't it?"
George raised an eyebrow at her. "Sounds like an awfully simple fix for some complicated spellwork. Old magic? That's like, big stuff."
"Yeah, it is," Albany agreed vaguely, biting her cheek. "Um, guess we got lucky."
George narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. "You bite your cheek when you're nervous," he said, raising an eyebrow. "What's really going on?"
Albany swallowed, overwhelmed by the sudden urge to spill everything to George. Merlin, Arthur, the soulmate situation, old magic — everything. She trusted him, and after all he'd been through, he deserved to know.
"What are you on, Al?"
But she had trusted Faith, too.
"I get that you believe this all actually happened to you, but like... are you sure this isn't something your mind just came up with?"
She glanced up at George apologetically, and her shoulders weighed heavy on her. "I'm sorry," she whispered, regret bitter on her tongue. "Just... trust me. I want to tell you, just... not yet."
He smiled kindly at her. "That's okay, don't worry. Take your time."
"Thank you."
"We can talk about something else, anyway. I feel like I don't know much about your home life."
Albany's lips twitched. "It's nothing interesting, really."
George raised his eyebrows at her. "Try me."
"Tiny cottage, middle of nowhere," Albany began, setting the scene dramatically as they continued to waltz. "Huge forest out the back. The whole house runs on magic, but it's still pretty small. Guess my parents wanted to keep it simple."
"Sounds cute," George said, grinning. "And a lot less chaotic than the Burrow."
Albany shrugged. "There's only three of us there now," she said softly. "Evander died right before my third year. He'd only just graduated."
"I'm sorry to hear that," George murmured. "I can't even imagine losing one of my brothers."
"It hasn't been easy," Albany sighed. She was surprising herself with every word that left her lips; she'd never discussed Evander nor his death with anyone. It had always been too difficult to speak of, and her emotions would get the best of her, be it anger or sorrow. This time, all she felt was calm, and the safety of George's arms. "He was the favourite, of course; smart and obedient. He could've gotten any job he wanted when he left school. Instead... he ran away. Never told us where he was going, never answered Mum and Dad's letters. Said 'destiny called', or something... and then he came home in a closed coffin."
George gave her hand a gentle squeeze where their fingers were interlaced. "Were you close?" he asked softly.
Albany took a moment to ponder the question. "I don't remember much of him," she murmured. "I guess I wanted to forget. He annoyed me, though — because he was so close to our parents, and I wasn't. But... he stood up for me even when I never asked him to. He was kind."
"He's proud of you," George assured her. "Wherever he is."
Albany glanced at him, surprised. "You think?"
"I know," George said, grinning. "You're someone to be proud of."
The two spoke softly for the rest of the night, comfortable and happy in each other's arms. The slow music continued to play as the hall slowly emptied, lulling them into content, and as Albany rested her head on the boy's shoulder, her heart swelled. Maybe she was actually enjoying the ball, far more than she'd ever expected to.
And maybe, just maybe, she was a tiny bit in love with George Weasley.
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