A/N: Thanks a bunch for the reviews, guys. I'll try to cut the drama queen crap from now on. DancingCavalier, thanks a ton for being so persistent. You made me laugh )

I don't know how much I've explained about my family up to this point. We're relatively pureblood; some of us have married muggle-borns or even muggles, but for the most part we're an all wizarding family. This, along with the fact that nobody in my family seems to have heard of the birth control charm, accounts for the legions of Bells that exist and that have passed through the halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Unlike the Weasleys, we don't have any sort of physical trait that unites all of us, but there are certain behavioral quirks that seem to be a common thread throughout the family. The males, for example, are known for their unusually loud, attention seeking behavior that usually manifests itself through good-natured rebellion. Us females, in turn, are loosely referred to as "hussies". Quite a few of my cousins are regulars in the broom closets and almost all of us have been labeled as a man-eater at one point or another. I have very clear visions of being the first Bell woman to graduate Hogwarts without having kissed someone, let alone having had sex. Even my uptight cousin Astrid, a Ravenclaw with hair pulled back tighter than even McGonagall's, has a boyfriend who's putting out. This disturbs me. I expressed these fears to the Weasley twins around our fourth year, wherein George promised me he would not let me escape the castle a virgin. I proceeded to throw up in my mouth.

Altogether, the Bell family name usually signifies an individual who is loud, "experienced", spends an awful lot of time in detention, and who probably plays quidditch. The staff has jokingly referred to us for years as "Hell's Bells", and the first three in my generation to come to Hogwarts were my cousins Michael, Greg, and Thomas. Greg and Thomas are brothers born exactly nine months apart and Michael is another cousin in the same year. Together, they reestablished Hell's Bells and put the school through quite a bit of hell, or so I'm told. They were seventh years by the time I first stepped foot into Hogwarts, but they took me under their wing and honed my skills as a proper Bell family member. When I wasn't with the two young redheads, they were who I spent most of my time with and I developed a special bond with my cousin Michael. Naturally, I was thrilled when he returned to Hogwarts last year as a special assistant to Madame Hooch over first and second year flying. I was even more thrilled when I got a letter from him this morning announcing his return from yet another place I was not allowed to know.

"Oi! Katie, heads up!" Lee had said, indicating my owl, who proceeded to crash straight into my cereal bowl. Milk sloshed onto my front and bits of cornflakes stuck themselves to Fred's hair.

"Herpes!" I yelled at the snowy owl, swearing under my breath. Yes, my owl's name is Herpes. I selected him from the Owl Emporium before my first year and decided to call him Hermes, but while vacationing at the Weasley home, Fred repeatedly called him Herpes while I wasn't present and it's now the only thing he'll respond to. His vision also isn't that great. That occurred during our third year when Lee decided to see how well his aim was with an uncooked snow pea and a slingshot.

I untied the letter from Herpes's leg, directed him to peck at the cornflakes in Fred's hair (much to his protests and yelps of pain), and opened the single piece of parchment.

Hey Scrawny!

I am pleased to inform you of my return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from (Haha! You're not allowed to know where!) and request a moment of your infinitely important time. We all have our responsibility to family, my love, and I'll not let you shirk yours. Therefore, I'll be seeing you at precisely 8:00 this morning. Meet me at the Three Broomsticks.

Tata!

Michael

I rolled my eyes. It would be like Michael to want to have a slosh at eight in the morning.

"Eight o'clock?" Alicia said after I'd passed around the note. "But that's when Transfiguration starts."

I looked at her curiously. "So?"

"So you're enrolled in the class. Don't you think it's a little important that you be there?"

I pretended to think about this for about three seconds. "Nope!" I said at last. "Just tell McGonagall I'm sick or that Fred gouged my eyes out with a breakfast fork or something."

"I'm closer to looking like my eyes have been gouged out," Fred said grumpily, "Thanks to your bloody chicken. You just had to sick him on me, didn't you?"

I looked at Fred's scratches indifferently, calling Herpes to me and giving him a bit of toast. I patted him on the head. "And you just had to call him after a sexually transmitted disease," I responded. "All's fair, love."

"Are you really going to see Michael?" interrupted George. "Can I come with?" Fred and George got along pretty well with Michael, for some reason involving their mutual lack of maturity and love of all things that caused pain to myself.

"No," Angelina said firmly. "There's no way McGonagall's going to believe that all three of you got sick or injured or…whatever…on the same day."

Fred snorted. "If she knows us at all, she'll believe it."

"Nevertheless," she continued, "If Katie absolutely has to go, she's going alone."

"I absolutely have to," I said shortly. "And I'm going to need that map of yours, Fred darling."

Fred rolled his eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you, drongo? We gave that map to Harry two years ago."

"Potter?" I said, offended. "You chose him over me?"

"Only in this teensie little way, schmoopie," Fred said obnoxiously, patting my cheek. Lee pretended to vomit.

"Okay, guys, please," he said. "Not at breakfast."

"Why?" I asked, feigning grave offense. "We have every right to show our love. Isn't that right, Freddie-kins?" I batted my lashes.

"Absolutely right, Kitchy-Koo," he said, tickling me under my chin. "In fact…"

Fred yanked me toward him and, surprised by the amount of force he exerted, toppled over with me on top of him. We landed hard on the floor, tangled and moaning.

"Nice one, Freddie-kins," I groaned, rubbing the back of my head.

"Yeah, yeah, just get off of me," he said, pushing me away.

"I'm trying. I thought you were the one that said you wanted to demonstrate our love, bat head."

"Not on the floor of the Great Hall."

"Why not?" I asked, surprising myself at my own boldness.

Fred actually grinned. "Excellent point, my dear," he said, leaning in toward me.

"Oi!" George called, craning his head over the table. "Could you do that later?"

"Sorry, brother," Fred said, still grinning devilishly. I laughed as he leaned closer. And then Melanie happened.

"Oh Em Gee!" she yelled, coming up the aisle. "What are you two doing?!" She looked deeply anxious, looking from Fred to me and back again. "I thought you said you weren't together! If you didn't lie to me, that is so inappropriate—"

"You're right, Miss Crow, it is inappropriate," said McGonagall crisply, moving Melanie aside. "Miss Bell, would you kindly extract yourself from Mr. Weasley and join the rest of the civilized world at the breakfast table?"

"Well, I would, Professor, but he's sort of on top of me, you see." Two aisles over, I could almost swear that I heard Professor Dumbledore, who was coming up the aisle, say, "Oh let them have their fun, Minerva."

Minerva, however, huffed and pulled Fred up by his ear. Fred yelped and I scrambled to my feet to avoid the same fate. She left, shaking her head. We looked embarrassedly at each other and took our seats again. Melanie still stood staring and looking rather daft.

"They were just messing around," Angelina said quickly. "It's a long story."

Melanie nodded slowly and sat on the other side of Fred.

"Well!" I said loudly, swinging one leg over the bench. "I'm off. Fred, what was that statue again? A humping witch?"

Melanie gave me a look of mortification and Fred rolled his eyes again. "One-humped witch, Bell. Honestly." But he grinned at me before I left. I grinned back, but then saw him slyly put his arm around Melanie's waist. He was clearly still joking around with me, but her gratified face made me angry. I did not appreciate the joke. I turned on my heel and left to go see Michael. I heard the twins' laughter behind me.

It was not difficult to spot Michael. He was sitting at the bar, running his hands through his shaggy brown hair and flirting with Madame Rosmerta, the curvy and scantily clad barmaid. I rolled my eyes, sending a blasting spell from the end of my wand that broke one of the legs of his stool. He toppled to ground and Madame Rosmerta shrugged, proceeding to wipe off some of the tables.

"You realize you're an ass, right?" I asked, casually sitting down next to his collapsed stool.

"Batie Kell!" he yelled, crushing me into a tight hug. He released me quickly and then glared down at me. "I can't believe you're skipping class," he said, mockingly stern.

I scoffed. "Who're you to reprimand me? I don't think half your teachers knew you were enrolled in their class when you were in school."

He nodded acceptingly. "Touche, then," he said, mending the barstool with a flick of his wand and sitting back down next to me.

"So," I said dryly, "You've decided to remove me from my ruthless pursuit of knowledge to watch you flirt with a barmaid. Excellent."

Michael laughed. "Ruthless pursuit of knowledge, my arse. Who's the one who knew how to get to Hogsmeade on a school day? Besides, I'm dating Rosmerta."

I rolled my eyes. "You are not."

"Am too," he replied defensively. "I mean, maybe not dating, but I've definitely been shagging her."

I stared at him disgustedly. "You know," I said slowly. "I'd like—just for once—to pretend that my family is made up of decent people with some kind of moral center."

"Sorry darling, you're stuck with us."

"Obviously," I said ruefully. "Why else would I be in a bar at nine in the morning?"

"Hey!" he said defensively, "There is one point on which I can rebut. The Three Broomsticks happens to have the most delightful breakfast pastries I have had the luck to sample. Fancy a scone?"

My mind shot back to breakfast, where half of my cornflakes ended up in Fred's hair. "Yes," I said. "Make that two."

Once we were sitting at a proper table, putting jam on scones and settling in, I began a proper conversation.

"So where've you been?"

"Can't tell you that, Kate," he said, grinning. "Top secret."

I'd been expecting this, but I thought I'd ask anyway. "Well you're okay, aren't you?" I asked anxiously. "No wounds or anything?"

He rolled his eyes. "You sound like my mum."

"Michael!"

"Yeah, yeah. Well, I've got this kind of nasty gash across my chest—don't worry about it, Kates! It's nothing. Besides, witches think it's charming. Battle wounds."

I rolled my eyes, slightly reminded of How to Charm a Witch, a book I found in George's possession last summer. I'd been ready to destroy it on the spot, but both of the twins swore it was Bill's and that they'd only been returning it to him. I'm not sure how much I believe this story, but those ridiculously charming brown eyes—anyway.

"You're back for good, then?" I pressed. He shrugged.

"Until the Order needs me again, I suppose."

I sighed. "I hate war," I muttered.

He nodded soberly, his dark brown eyes showing momentary seriousness.

"How are Greg and Thomas?" I asked, attempting to lighten the mood.

"Good, they're both good. They're working for the Department of Magical Mishaps now. I guess the Department figures they've gotten into so many similar scrapes themselves that they'll always know precisely what to do."

I laughed pleasantly. "Sounds like them," I muttered.

"What about you? Heard you've been having problems with this Umbridge woman."

"Yeah," I said into my hot chocolate, my mood darkening. "She's a real wench, that one."

"Yeah, even though, Kates—"

"I know, I know. Don't cross her. Everyone's been telling me."

"Everyone's been telling you right. Just finish out your detentions and stay out of her hair, will you? It'll take a load off of my mind."

"I'm not yours to worry about, Michael," I snapped. "I can handle myself. I'm eighteen. Of age and everything."

"Well, now aren't you impressive," he scoffed.

"Merlin, Michael, just let me be me, will you?"

"Okay, okay. Just limit the number of dung bombs you put in her office." He grinned at me and I waved my hand aside.

"Please," I said. "I advanced from those things centuries ago."

He shrugged. "I still think they're funny."

"Yeah, well, you would."

"Say, tell me—you still on the fast track to become the only virgin lipped Bell to graduate from Hogwarts?"

I frowned. "Well, I wouldn't say fast track…"

"Oh yes?" he said, perking up. "And tell me, darling, who would this potential speed bump be?"

His brown eyes twinkled and for some reason I blushed. "No one," I muttered.

"Oh yes!" he cried, slamming his mug down on the table, causing a lot of the brown liquid to lap over the edges. "Katie's got herself a boyfriend! Who is he?"

"He's not my boyfriend yet," I said quickly. "But I have got a potential, so you can quit patronizing me about being a spinster now."

"No way, Bitty Bell. Not 'til you give me a name."

I sighed. "It's Fred," I muttered.

"Sorry? Didn't quite catch that."

"It's Fred," I said louder.

"One more time."

"For the thousandth time, it's Fred!" I yelled, shoving my mouth full of scone.

"Fred?!" Michael laughed incredulously. "Little Freddie Weasley?? Bill's brother?"

"Yes," I muttered. "And he's not little."

"One of the twins? And you're not lying to me here?"

"No, I'm not! Merlin."

"Well, well, well, isn't that just adorable. I've got to owl Bill. This is just too much."

"No!" I shouted, diving across the table to shut him up. "You cork it about this, alright?"

"Whoa! Calm down there, small one. I was just having a bit of fun."

"Yeah, well," I said, sitting back down and brushing crumbs off my front. "Just being sure."

He laughed at me. "I can't believe you're embarrassed," he said. "Makes sense to me."

"Yeah, well," I said, "The only thing is, he hasn't bothered to ask me out yet. I mean—what the hell, right?"

"Well, what's happened between the two of you?"

"Oh, you know. He's told me he likes me and everything. We've held hands and stuff…Oh, and we're going to Seventh Year Ball together. But I had to ask him to that."

Michael stared, impressed. "Really?" he asked. "You did the asking? You, who's too scared to bat an eyelash at anyone with a p—"

"Is that okay?" I asked loudly, interrupting a potentially embarrassing moment. "I mean, what would you think if someone asked you out?"

Michael shrugged. "Is she hot?"

I considered this. "Well, she's a good dresser," I said slowly. "But she's short and kind of judgmental."

Michael laughed. "I think you're fine."

"What makes you think that?"

"I just don't think Fred's too upset by it."

"How would you know?"

"Because he's followed you to Hogsmeade."

"What?!" I whipped around quickly and sure enough, Fred was letting himself into the bar, dressed in regular clothing and grinning from ear to ear.

"How's it going, Michael?" he asked, raising a hand in greeting. "Kates, what do you say we don't go to class today?"

I grinned back at him. "Sounds excellent."