In the wee hours of the morning, George heard the crack of Fred Apparating into their flat. He hadn't slept a wink. He was dreading the pounding he was going to get, and he knew he deserved it completely. He was having difficulty explaining, even to himself, why he'd done it. He was feeling sort of jealous, and it had seemed like a funny way to test if Claudia really liked Fred for Fred, but there was nothing funny about it in retrospect. His stomach clenched painfully.

Only seconds later, he heard the door to his room bang open violently, the lights flared on, and the sheets were ripped off him. George sat up quickly but was knocked down almost at once by a forceful shove from Fred, who looked bloodthirsty.

'Why, George?!' he demanded.

George sat up again, unable to meet his brother's eyes. There was no way out of this. 'I don't know,' he mumbled. 'I'm sorry.'

'You're sorry?!' exclaimed Fred, stomping around the room, kicking over the wastepaper basket. 'You've done a number on her! She's not sure if I'm trustworthy now, can't get over the fact you hate her, kept asking questions about fake outs we've done.' He stormed back to the bed and bent down, forcing George to meet his eyes. 'You're a complete wanker. I'll never forget this.'

'I'm sorry,' George repeated miserably, looking down again.

'You haven't told me why,' Fred insisted. 'That's what I can't fathom. Why you thought it was such a great idea to pose as me and lead my girlfriend on. What was going on in your head?! We've never used fake outs against each other before.'

'It wasn't about hurting you –' George started.

But Fred cut in. 'So it was about hurting her?'

'No!' George rubbed his temples. His brain was working slowly, thickly. 'No. I didn't want to hurt her either. I just wanted to see ... she can't tell us apart ... how much can she like you, if she can't tell us apart?'

'Most people can't tell us apart!' Fred bellowed, spreading his arms as if to indicate the whole world. 'Our own mother still gets us confused! Do you think that somehow means that Mum doesn't like us?!'

George felt the logic of that hit him like a cold shower. He stared at his fingers, knotted in his lap. 'No.'

'Bloody hell!' Fred exhaled in a rush.

They were silent for a few moments. George felt honestly quite crushed, and as he sat there mooching in woe, the delicate tendrils of his floating shadow brushed along his shoulders. The sick feeling in his stomach suddenly, inexplicably, cleared up.

Fred, meanwhile, put a hand to his head and tried to calm down. He could see that George was sorry, but it wasn't enough for him. Claudia's confused and sad face was still foremost in his mind. He knew that George had been off his game recently, but this was absurd.

'This isn't over,' he said finally. 'Far from it. You're gonna make up for the damage you've done.'

A muscle in George's face twitched. 'Whatever you say.'

Fred glared. 'What?'

'I said' – George looked up and pulled an ugly face – 'whatever you say.'

Fred was shocked. 'What's with the attitude? Are you sorry, or not?' He could feel rage building up again.

'I don't answer to you,' George snapped, lying down as if to go back to sleep. 'Shut the door on your way out.'

Fred gaped, stunned into speechlessness. As George turned his back, the light from the lamp caught his face in an odd way, making his eyes look greenish and unpleasant.

Without another word, Fred stalked from the room and slammed the door behind him with all the force he could muster.

***

Fred made a makeshift home for himself on the living room floor of Claudia's house, which her mum was thankfully okay with. Claudia was thrilled when Fred showed up on her doorstep the next morning, a roll-up mattress under one arm and a backpack under the other, but her smile fell when he explained why.

'George is being a git,' he said bitterly, manoeuvring the mattress into the prime viewing real estate in front of the TV. 'I've had enough.'

'What about your shop?' Claudia asked timidly, torn between wanting Fred to stay, and wanting to help him patch things up with his brother.

'George can do it by himself,' Fred declared. 'He deserves to have a hard time of it, too.'

George, for his part, was not surprised to find Fred gone when he surfaced that morning, and he only needed one guess as to where Fred was. He banged about in the kitchen, making breakfast as noisily and violently as he could, hoping to vent some of the anger he felt, which was mostly directed at himself.

A few days slid by without a word exchanged between the twins. George theorised that it was the longest they'd ever gone without even seeing each other – so much for never letting a girl break up the dynamic duo. The flat was eerily quiet and dull. The shop bustled as much as ever, which typically George would have enjoyed; but he was running it by himself, and the lack of sleep began to wear on his nerves.

Unbeknownst to him, the silky glimmer was still there keeping him company. It was more energetic these days, following like a puppy and happily latching on to George whenever he felt particularly angry or irritated. When that happened, George would suddenly feel better, but he didn't feel much like himself. His anger at himself was subsiding and being rapidly replaced by anger at Fred. George knew that the fake out had been a horrible idea, but how long could Fred hold a grudge? Frankly, it was just as low an act for Fred to ditch George like this when he knew they had the summer market to cater for.

Meanwhile, Fred spent his days with his Muggle girlfriend, now watchful 24/7 that he didn't let slip with something a little too wizardly. It was more difficult to keep up now that he was living in a Muggle house. Muggles, he felt, had a torturous existence. Everything took ten times longer, was less effective, and was far more dull. There was one particularly grim night where he found himself assisting Claudia and her mother with the washing up. This was a horrible affair that involving standing on his feet so long they ached, holding a damp tea towel and scrubbing it over sopping dishes in a futile effort to make them dry. He could have dried the lot with a single spell, and it took all he had to resist the temptation. Using magic in the presence of Muggles was simply not done.

Still, he wondered how long he could go without telling Claudia the truth. If things really got serious between them, she'd have to know. He wasn't sure things would get serious; wasn't this, after all, just a summer fling? It wasn't until one night when he was standing there in the kitchen, swaying on his feet and dabbing idly at yet another soapy crockpot, that it dawned on him: even if he wasn't serious, she was, and this was never going to work.

He liked Claudia very much, and they had a lot of fun, but she wasn't a witch and Fred had never in his life envisioned himself with a girl who wasn't a witch, and a hardcore one at that. It was more than that though, he thought sadly. Claudia wasn't like him. She was, essentially, a good girl ... or she wouldn't be helping her mother night after night with these ruddy dishes. Fred didn't mind that she was the way she was; what bothered him was what she wasn't. She wasn't someone he could pull a heist with. She wasn't the sort to sneak about or laugh at his practical jokes. She wasn't the sort who would appreciate getting down and dirty, playing with homemade fireworks or harassing Ron until his ears turned red. In fact, if things kept going like this, she was probably going to tame him. Fred held the tea towel at arm's length, suddenly mortified by what it represented.

For the first time since he'd stormed from the flat, Fred missed George. He wished George was there to discuss this issue. He thought he should still be mad, but, looking around the ordinary Muggle kitchen with its electrical appliances and unmoving photos stuck to the fridge, Fred wondered if maybe George had seen this coming all along. Maybe George had thought Fred wasn't serious and that pulling a fake out wouldn't be a big deal.

Either that, or Fred was making excuses because he hated living in this Muggle house and he wanted to go home. He knew, then, that it was time to return to the flat and sort things out. After that he would consider what to do about Claudia.

One evening, Fred packed up his things, thanked Claudia's mother for her hospitality, and headed out to the street where he would pretend to hail a taxi. Claudia walked with him to the footpath, an encouraging smile on her face.

'Let me know when you two have worked it out,' she said kindly. 'I know he doesn't like me, but I hope...'

She was squeezing his hand rather tightly. Fred could just about feel the dog collar of domesticity being tightened around his neck, and he pulled away abruptly.

'I'll see you soon,' was all he said as he hurried off into the dusk. Those few days of Muggle life had taught him much.

***

Fred Apparated into Diagon Alley, and approached their shop slowly. He was trying to think about what he should say. Part of him was still angry, but another more dominant part just wanted to call it all off and make things normal again. It was hard work being angry at George. It was like being angry at part of himself – not feasible. At least, not for too long.

It was coming up to eight, and the shop was closed. Fred let himself in, enjoying the feeling of using his wand to open the door instead of fumbling with a stupid Muggle key that was so easy to drop or lose. Inside, all was dark and quiet. Fred flicked his wand casually, turning on the lights like he'd done a thousand times before, but stopped short, staring at the scene that met his eyes.

It looked like somebody had dropped a small bomb near the counter. The floor had a smouldering black scar on it. Reusable Hangmen were scattered all the way to the door, torn limb from limb. A wall hanging that usually had a hilarious depiction of Merlin tripping over his beard was half-burned away, and Merlin was cowering in the remaining half, looking traumatised.

Fred stepped closer, dropping his mattress and bag as he went, befuddled at what all the charred and twisted black clumps were. Upon further inspection, he thought he saw a tiny glint of purple; and then he realised the significance of the location. His Nosebleed Nougats! Destroyed! After all those hours! He gave an angry sigh and kicked uselessly at the remains.

Well, one guess who'd done it. Fred felt a little more grim now. George must have been in a state if he'd been angry enough to blow up Fred's beautiful display. Fred paused, staring at the smoky mess without really seeing it, because a thought had just occurred to him. A rather disconcerting thought.

All that mooching and seeming down; posing as Fred to trick Claudia; and destroying Fred's pride and joy in the shop? By themselves these things were irritating at best, infuriating at worst, but put them together and they made an altogether different picture. It wasn't a picture Fred recognised. At the end of the day, all this behaviour was simply unlike George. George was easygoing, even-tempered, with a sense of fairness that was far more reliable than Fred's. But the way he was acting at the moment made Fred look like the saintly Percy.

Was there something going on that Fred didn't know about? Should he be worried? He moved past the counter and started to climb the stairs to their flat, stepping expertly around the creaky places from force of habit. It was confrontation time.

But that fled from his mind when a crack of Apparition sounded upstairs, and with it, the sound of a high-pitched scream. A female scream. Claudia's scream!

Claudia? Here? How? Fred pounded up the stairs, confused. When he burst into the living room of the little flat over the shop, his confusion deepened into utter bewilderment.

George and Claudia were both there. George had his arms locked around Claudia, and for a brief and mortifying moment, Fred thought he was trying to cuddle her. But the look of terror on his girlfriend's face said otherwise.

'What's going on?!' Fred asked stupidly, standing frozen in the doorway.

'Fred!' Claudia shrieked, extending a hand to him. 'Help me!'

'Wh-what?'

'Out of the way!' barked George in a voice that didn't sound like him at all. Fred noticed that George looked terrible, like he hadn't slept in a week. He was a mess of bedraggled hair and crushed clothing.

Fred couldn't move. This was inexplicable. He didn't know which he found more worrying, the fact that George looked like a zombie and was trying to crush Claudia, or the fact Claudia was there, in their flat, when he'd left her behind in the village mere minutes ago. All he could do was gape.

George shoved Claudia forward, and she sprawled onto the ground, sobbing with fear. Fred started to move towards her, but George drew his wand lightning fast and yelled, 'Stupefy!'

Fred reacted quickly enough to throw himself to one side, and the spell ricocheted harmlessly off the door jamb, striking some of the wood apart. He stumbled against the couch, half-trying to catch himself before he fell and half-trying to get to his wand, which was wedged in his jeans pocket. 'George, what are you doing?!' was all he could think to say.

But George wasn't listening. He was busy seizing Claudia by the back of her jumper, and, dragging her along like a dog, he started stomping back down the stairs. Fred swore, finally got a grip on his wand, and pelted down after them.

Back in the shop, Fred came to a skidding halt when he saw what was happening. George had a look on his face nothing short of crazed as he tossed Claudia in a heap, kicked her, aimed his wand at her face and commanded, 'Imperio.'

'Are you out of your mind?!' Fred cried, shocked that his brother would use an Unforgivable Curse, shocked that his brother was going mental, and still trying to fathom the fact his Muggle girlfriend was in his wizarding joke shop.

The curse was effective at once. Claudia went rigid, eyes wide, gaping at George, who pulled something from his jacket pocket. Fred edged closer, wand raised at George and feeling sick to his stomach, trying to get a look at the thing in his brother's hand.

It was a small, sinister-looking crystal vial, filled with an evil black fluid. Fred didn't know what it was and wasn't interested in finding out. He levelled his wand, but his hand was shaking. He couldn't attack George, even if he was off his rocker. He couldn't.

'What – is – happening?!' he demanded coldly, while Claudia's staring eyes began to water.

'Brought your girlfriend here,' George smiled, 'Apparated her right over. How come you've never bothered telling her you're a wizard?' His voice was reedy and strained. Fred felt chills run down his arms when George tilted his head to give Fred a dead stare. For some reason Fred couldn't grasp, George's eyes were green. It wasn't a trick of the light this time. Had he been experimenting with self-transfiguration or something?

'Okay,' Fred said evenly, mind racing, trying to work this out. 'Just calm down. Put your wand down, mate. Come on now.'

'I don't like her,' George said softly, looking like putting his wand down was the last thing he was going to do. 'She's been taking you away. She has to go.'

Claudia, unable to move, was nevertheless trembling from head to foot as she kneeled there, transfixed, waiting. Fred glanced at her nervously. He had the feeling it was his wand that Claudia was gaping at in disbelief.

'You're not yourself,' he tried, looking back to George and hoping he sounded reassuring. 'I think something's the matter with you.'

George suddenly clenched his jaw, as if fighting to hold back a wave of sick. Fred hesitated, still wrestling with himself about whether or not he should attack his own brother, or if it was better to try to get Claudia out of harm's way first. Then George spoke in a very halting voice, grinding the sound through his teeth.

'Fred ... I'm not ...'

'Huh?'

George turned to Claudia, face impassive again, and held out the little vial. 'Drink it,' he ordered. At once, bound by the Imperius Curse, Claudia took the vial in both hands and pulled out the stopper.

Fred panicked.

'Stupefy!' he yelled, aiming squarely at George.

George reacted with incredible speed, blocking the attack – 'Protego!' – and at once retaliating without missing a beat – 'Stupefy!'

Fred dodged, hearing something behind him blow up. He frantically racked his brain for a disabling spell that wasn't too harmful, but in his alarm could only think of Stunning, and that hadn't worked. Looking up, he saw that Claudia had the vial to her mouth.

'Petrificus totalus!' he cried desperately, now aiming at Claudia. She froze, solid as a statue, the vial touching her lips but teeth not parted. The inky liquid drained down her chin harmlessly.

Fred deflated in relief. The black potion was staining her shirt but that was better than staining her insides – who knew what it would have done! But there wasn't time to relax. George, upon seeing that the potion had just been wasted, began to suddenly jerk about as if having a fit.

Fred approached cautiously, sickened, wishing he knew what to do. He held out a hand to steady George, but then something even weirder happened that made Fred stop dead.

Something large, green and mostly transparent was swelling out above George's head like an enormous mushroom. Fred could only stare, feeling leaden, as some sort of creature began to take form. It was shaped like an octopus, from what he could see: soft, shimmering, jelly-like, a definite shade of green. It didn't have a face. It did seem to have tentacles, and they were all fixed firmly to George's head.

Claudia, from her petrified kneeling position on the floor, was gaping at the green thing and silently screaming with her eyes. Fred didn't know what this thing was, but he knew Dark magic when he saw it, and he didn't approve of it being plugged in to his twin one little bit. He staggered backwards, then moved so he was in front of Claudia, just in case, and pointed his wand at the creature.

'Get off him!' Fred yelled furiously. 'What are you supposed to be?!'

The thing pulsed, billowing as if made of many silky fibres. Fred had to keep tilting his head, because if he stayed still long enough, the creature seemed to blend with its surroundings. Then, he heard a voice, but not a sound. He heard it inside his head, a trembling shudder inside his bones, something invasive and warped.

Why do you interfere? it whispered.

Fred pushed statue-Claudia back a bit, suddenly wishing there was about a Quidditch pitch more space between him and this creature. George stood still, looking dazed, eyes blinking out of sync as he tried to focus on the scene before him.

'Get off him!' Fred snapped again, and flicked his wand, sending a stream of burning sparks at the creature. But they passed through it without doing any damage, as if the thing was not there at all. This was definitely not a good sign.

Quick as he could, Fred tossed a 'Finite Incantatem!' at Claudia, whose stiff form gave way. She stumbled, gagging, the spells lifted.

'Claud, go!' said Fred urgently, batting at her with one hand, not taking his eyes off the spectre. He could hear her somewhere behind him, blundering around the displays.

'Fred, what is this?!' she sobbed wretchedly, voice high and shrill.

You will not escape, the ghostly voice quavered in Fred's mind, and Fred knew that Claudia had heard it too from her sudden scream.

'What is this?! What is this?!' she kept crying.

Stupid girl, the voice simpered. It's ridiculous how he likes her more than you, isn't it?

Fred was puzzled, until he realised the voice must be addressing George, who began to tremble and raised his wand at Fred with a sudden lurch.

'George, it's controlling you!' yelled Fred in a panic. 'There's a dirty great green thing on your head, it's controlling you, fight it!'

Control? the voice repeated lightly. I do not control. I only enhance what is already there.

'That's rubbish!' Fred scoffed, trying hard not to let his hand shake as he and George faced off, wands ready. 'He doesn't want to do this!'

Finish him, the voice crooned gently, speaking to George once again. He is a fool. What good is he?

George was straining now, sweat beading on his forehead, eyes bright and focused grimly on Fred's mortified face. Fred could hear Claudia whimpering like a frightened puppy from somewhere near the door. Even though instinct told him he should be either casting some sort of shield or running like the wind, he stood his ground. Because, stronger than the urge to fight or fly, was his gut feel that George would never 'finish him', no matter the circumstance.

It was a gamble. Fred stood, unprotected, and very slowly lowered his wand. George watched this, breathing hard. Fred stared back.

Perhaps you could use the Cruciatus Curse, the voice rang in their heads again. It would repay the hurt he has caused.

George winced.

'Come on, George,' said Fred quietly. 'This is stupid.'

Never has there been such pain as the Cruciatus Curse, the voice went on sweetly. Who can stand it? It will satiate your anger...

'How 'bout you stop with the suggestions and let him decide for himself?' Fred flared.

'No,' George breathed in a tiny voice. 'It's a good idea.'

Fred blanched, but still didn't raise his wand. 'You ... no. George, don't listen to it!'

'It's a good idea –' George said again, more forcefully, as the green thing wafted pleasantly, enjoying itself, '– to use the Cruciatus Curse, Fred. Nothing can stand it.'

Fred gaped, horrified, taking a small step back. George was staring at him intensely, shaking, and Fred suddenly registered that George's eyes were once again the familiar brown. George gave a tiny nod, nearly imperceptible.

And Fred understood.

He hesitated, only for a second, but knew that he would have to act quickly. If he thought about it too much, he would never be able to go through with it. George didn't react as Fred raised his wand again, steeled his nerves and forced himself to pour all his anger, previously directed at George, into the image of that floating green thing.

'Crucio!' he said clearly.

George screamed and fell down at once, dropping his wand and crumpling in pain, but he wasn't the only one. An unearthly wail sounded in Fred's head, making his skull rattle, and the billowing green spectre burst upwards, swirling over George, frantically disentangling itself as it sought to escape the curse. Fred kept it up, ignoring the feeling of distress throbbing in his temples, fixated on George as he writhed and tossed about on the ground, every muscle in spasms of excruciating agony...

Claudia was shrieking, adding to the din, and the creature kept howling, seeming to have difficulty extracting itself; but at last, it pulled free, rocketed to the ceiling, and halted there, shivering.

Fred lowered his wand immediately, and George relaxed, slumping. Fred was so shaken he couldn't think straight. His cheeks were wet.

Again, the voice spoke, but for the last time. It sounded softly in Fred's head, a subtle murmur. Such strength I have never seen.

Fred gazed up at it, as it began to disperse, sparkling grains flying in all directions. It melted into the ceiling, flitted through the walls and drained through the cracks in the floor. Quite suddenly, it was gone, and Fred stood thunderstruck, with his Muggle girlfriend weeping on the floor behind him, and his barely conscious brother groaning on the floor in front of him.

***

It was several long, miserable moments before George felt ready to open his eyes again. When he did, he found himself looking at Fred, who was kneeling on the ground beside him looking overcome with anxiety.

'Bloody hell!' Fred exploded, 'I thought I'd done you in!'

'So did I,' George muttered, sitting up slowly, his head spinning. 'What happened to –'

'That thing? Gone,' Fred pronounced, looking around the room just in case he was wrong. 'It ran for it. I think it was pretty hurt.'

'You don't say,' George grunted, rubbing his head. 'That curse felt like being stabbed with about a million needles over and over again.'

Fred looked pained. 'Sorry.'

'Don't be sorry, you git, it was brilliant,' George smiled, and Fred felt at once relieved. That sounded much more like the George he knew.

'I only have one complaint,' George continued. 'Why in blazes didn't you use Expelliarmus on me from the start? Wasn't that obvious?'

Fred slumped down with a groan. 'Well, if you think you could have done a better job under the circumstances –'

A sudden shriek made them both jump and peer around at Claudia, who was standing as far away from them as possible, fists balled at her sides and shaking all over like a leaf in the wind. 'What,' she screeched, 'is going on?!'

Fred felt his stomach do an uncomfortable lurch. He got up and held his hands up placatingly.

'Okay, you shouldn't have found out like this,' he admitted up front, 'but George and I might possibly be wizards.'

'What?!' she shrilled, in a higher voice than either of the Weasleys had ever heard.

'I'm sorry about the other night,' George piped up, addressing both of them. 'I was under the influence of a veriyeux.'

Claudia made an infuriated 'Eep!' sound, and Fred looked baffled. 'You know what it was?'

'I suspected it,' George nodded, shamefaced. 'A veriyeux, a.k.a. a green-eyed monster. It finds people who are ... angry, or upset; and it feeds off them. Anger makes it strong, so it tries to make the person even angrier.'

'Wow,' Fred said. 'I've never heard of it.' Claudia just said 'Eep!' again.

'Neither had I, till yesterday,' George agreed. 'I thought I was going nutty, but I found a reference to it in The Monster Book of Monsters. Thought it fit.'

'I knew we kept our old books for a reason,' Fred said with a grin, but became suddenly serious again. 'Guess I owe you an apology, mate. I thought you were just being a prat. Don't s'pose I was much better, either, leaving you with the shop.'

George looked a bit flushed around the edges. 'That monster wouldn't have got a hold of me at all if I hadn't been a bit jealous,' he admitted quietly. 'Reckon I'm the one who owes the apology.'

George took Fred's extended hand and was pulled to his feet.

'Oh, and sorry about the nougats, too,' he added hastily.

'Forget it,' Fred shrugged. 'But next time, we package by magic.'

'Magic!' squeaked Claudia, and the twins looked back at her, as if they hadn't noticed she was there. This was not lost on her. She skirted furiously around them as if they were poisonous, backing into the counter, mopping at the black splatter on her chin.

'What was that potion?' Fred asked conversationally. He felt bad for Claudia, but he was so relieved that things were all right with George again that he just felt like laughing.

'Draught of death,' George replied, 'with a little essence of eel to get that black colour down, and some firewort to make it extra painful. Made it last night, when I was contemplating murder, you know.'

'Cool.'

'It's not cool!' screamed Claudia, and now Fred did feel guilty. She kept spitting, scrabbling at her mouth. 'I can't get this freaking taste out of my mouth!'

'Did you actually swallow any?' George asked in concern, but Claudia spun around and thrust her hand into a bowl of mints on the countertop, hurriedly shovelling them down.

'Whoa! Whoa!' cried Fred, grabbing her arm, but she punched him away. He looked stung.

'I can't believe this!' she screeched, bits of mint falling from her lips. 'You're a freaking WIZARD? Magic is REAL?'

'Spit those out!' cried Fred, but she just started to weep.

'Your brother tried to KILL me, Fred Weasley!' she sobbed hysterically, now gripping the counter for support. 'And you don't even CARE!'

'Ouch,' muttered George, as Fred looked lost.

Claudia took a few huge, shaking breaths, clutching at her heart. 'We're finished, Fred,' she quavered. 'I don't want any of this. I don't know how I'm ever supposed to get over it. I'm gonna be hearing that thing in my nightmares for months!'

'W-well,' Fred stuttered, 'If you want, um, there are ways to help you forget –'

'Help me forget?!' she squawked, face twisted cruelly. 'That's right, that's exactly what I need! To forget this, forget you! I wish I'd never even met you!'

Fred's jaw dropped, George suppressed a gasp, and Claudia went suddenly stiff, eyes glazed. An instant later, she sank to the floor in a mess of half-chewed Mindlapse Minties, with an unceremonious thud.

***

Fred and George cleaned Claudia up and moved her back to her house, sneaking in, depositing her on the couch and succeeding in not waking her mother. They lingered for a while, uncertain if the overdose of Mindlapse Minties would cause unforeseen side effects, but she seemed to be sleeping peacefully. At last, they returned to the flat and went to sleep themselves, too exhausted to think much about what had just happened.

Fred didn't wake up again until the next afternoon, when the already sinking sun snuck through the curtain and got him in the face. He quickly made himself presentable and ventured to Claudia's house, expecting the worst but hoping for the best.

The doorbell was answered by Claudia herself. Fred smiled, but the smile she gave in return was one of politeness. There was no hugging or cheerful greeting, or even any angry yelling or slammed doors. There was just ... blankness.

'Can I help you?' she asked civilly.

Maybe this was the cold shoulder, but maybe she just didn't recognise him. Fred tossed around a few ideas about what to say, and ended up settling on, 'Uhh...'

'If you're selling something, I'm not interested, thanks,' said Claudia briefly, and made to close the door, but Fred caught it.

'Wait up ... do I know you?'

He cocked his head and squinted like she was a long-lost high school friend. Claudia observed him for a moment, then shook her head. 'Sorry, no, I don't think so.'

The door closed.

Fred knew it was over. The Minties had done their work and erased Claudia's memories of him.

He'd been thinking about ending it anyway, hadn't he. She was a Muggle, he was a wizard, it was never supposed to be. She was clingy, and freaked out easily, and would never have been much use in a spot of trouble. It was better this way. Still, as he slowly walked back up the footpath, dragging his feet, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of mourning. After all, up until the attempted murder and the torturing and stuff, it had been fun.

***

'So, after I successfully tortured the veriyeux out of hiding –'

'Torturing me in the process, though you'll notice he doesn't mention that now –'

'It wimped out and ran for it, split into little pieces –'

'After which I was all right, but Claudia was spitting chips –'

'I suppose it was a shock to the system –'

'Unfortunately she thought it was a good idea to eat a whole pile of our Mindlapse Minties, trademark pending –'

'And she said something very rash and insincere about wishing she'd never met me –'

'So the Minties erased her memories of Fred –'

'And now she can't remember a thing,' Fred and George finished together.

There was a long moment of silence around the table, during which their father let out an appreciative breath he'd been holding, and Lee Jordan remembered the forkful of sausage he'd been trying to eat for ten minutes and got it down at last. Fred and George were glad to have their friend round for this particular dinner at the Burrow, as their mother was much less likely to spit the dummy if there was company. As it was, a muscle in her temple was twitching ominously, and she seemed to be holding in a barrage of admonishments behind a very set jaw.

'You're certain she doesn't remember?' Arthur Weasley asked hesitantly. 'Because, with all she saw and experienced –'

'It's all gone,' Fred affirmed grimly. 'She thought I was trying to sell something when I went round there again.'

George nodded somberly, but he seemed to be suppressing a smile.

'You really used the Cruciatus Curse?' Lee asked, looking awed. 'And the Imperius Curse?'

'You'll rot in Azkaban for that, both of you!' their mother lamented suddenly, looking distressed and flinging a tea towel down in protest.

'Nobody saw us, Mum,' George said confidently. 'Except for Claudia, and she doesn't count now.'

'And we're not underage anymore, so the Ministry isn't keeping tabs on us,' Fred added. 'They'll never find out.'

'And it's not like it's left me with addled brains,' George said delicately, 'thanks for asking, by the way.'

'So there's no problem,' Fred concluded.

Their mother was shaking her head, eyes flashing, barely restraining herself; but their father leaned forward and asked eagerly, 'What was it like, living with a Muggle, Fred? What did you see?'

'Arthur!' snapped Molly, 'he should not be encouraged to think that it was right to lead that poor Muggle on!' But Fred beamed and launched into a somewhat embellished tale of the life of tedium he'd observed, and he had a keen audience.

Much later that evening, Fred and George parted ways from Lee, and returned to their flat yawning. George was particularly exhausted after everything that had happened, and got ready for bed rather mechanically, dreaming of a peaceful sleep that wasn't disrupted by worries supernaturally influenced or otherwise.

He had his hand on the doorknob to his room, in pyjamas and ready to just fall onto his pillow, when Fred piped up from somewhere behind him, 'So you were really jealous, huh?'

George turned, glowering at his twin, who was skulking about in the living room, wearing a jumper over his pyjamas and holding a small box.

'A little, yes,' George had to admit, much to his chagrin.

Fred grinned toothily. 'Aww, cheer up. You'll be happy to know it all ended in tears.'

'You could say that.' George considered this comment, then broke into a sly grin of his own. 'I noticed you weren't exactly dry-eyed.'

Fred flinched a little. 'Well, without wishing to be rude, I don't ever want to do that again. The look on your face...'

He trailed off, and George quickly changed the subject. 'What've you got there?'

'Ah.' Fred reached into the box, and pulled out a small, square toffee. 'A little something to remember Claudia by, actually. That paper shop where she works always had a box of these on their counter. They're pretty good. I was wondering if we could replicate the taste with one of our products.'

George smirked. 'You softie.'

'Meh.' Fred chucked one at George. 'Here, you'll see what I mean.'

George caught it, and turned the handle into his room. 'Night then.'

'Night.'

Shutting the door behind him, George popped the toffee in his mouth, and rolled into bed. It tasted familiar, and as he wondered where he knew it from, he suddenly had an odd sensation all over his scalp, like someone had set his head on fire.

He spat it out at once, shot out of bed and threw the door open.

'Fred!'

Fred strolled nonchalantly into view, smiling pleasantly.

'Was that a Tangle Toffee?!' George growled, already knowing the answer.

'Oh, how did that get in there?' Fred said in mock surprise, taking another from the little box, but this one was quite a different shape and colour. 'Fancy me dropping a specially modified, long-lasting, fluorescent Tangle Toffee in with these! Careless.'

George felt his head getting heavier by the moment. He looked down to see that his hair, which was now a shocking shade of iridescent green, had already grown to his knees and was still going. It finally stopped just as it brushed his feet.

'You should be able to cut that in a few days,' Fred said through a mouthful of real toffee. 'By the way, we're now even for that little stunt you pulled posing as me. I don't care if you were possessed or not, the fact such an idea even entered your head is reprehensible.'

George responded by grabbing a handy sneaker and lobbing it at Fred, who choked, dodged, and threw a lounge pillow in return. It was another half-hour, many hurled objects and several decent bruises before either of them got to sleep, but they didn't mind.

***

The end! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a review, your thoughts are appreciated. =)