❝LOOKS BETTER ON YOU...❞

.・。.・゜✭・.

Ara wakes before anyone else, and she lies there for a moment in the dark, staring up at Ginny's ceiling, listening to the quiet chirping of the birds outside the window and the soft breathing of Hermione and Ginny on either side of her.

After a few minutes, she realizes she won't be getting any more sleep tonight, so she might as well get up. As quietly as she can, she slides out from beneath the blankets and rummages around in her trunk for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

Padding out of the room and closing the door behind her, Ara listens carefully and smiles when she hears the soft clanking of pots and pans: Mrs. Weasley's awake.

When she rounds the corner into the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley's stirring a large pot on the stove, the smell of porridge reaching Ara's empty stomach quickly, and Mr. Weasley is sitting at the kitchen table, dressed in Muggle clothes and yawning widely.

"Good morning," Mrs. Weasley says, turning to smile at Ara. "Did you sleep well?"

Ara nods, stifling the urge to yawn. She glances at her watch. It's just before five, which explains why it's still fully dark outside. "Is anyone else awake yet?"

"I don't think so," Mrs. Weasley replies, dusting her hands on her apron. "In fact, I was just about to go wake them. Would you go and get the boys for me?"

"Sure." Ara smiles and leads the way up the stairs, sneaking as quietly as she can past Percy's room and Fred and George's room, where Bill and Charlie are still sleeping, and pushing the door open to Ron's room.

All four boys are cocooned in their blankets, snoring softly, and Ara pauses only a moment before walking between the cots and shaking Harry awake. "Harry, it's time to get up," she whispers.

Harry blinks once, twice, raising his head slightly off the pillow, and then nods groggily.

Ron mutters something not so nice when Ara puts her hand on his shoulder, and when Ara reaches Fred and George's beds, they're both already awake. "'S time already?" Fred asks, hair tousled and eyes still clouded with sleep.

"Morning, A," says George with a tired grin, pushing himself up on one elbow.

Ara turns to leave and give the boys some privacy to change clothes, but then a hand locks around her wrist and yanks her onto the nearest cot.

"Fred Weasley!" Ara hisses, turning to look up at him. "What do you think you're doing?"

"At the moment, I'm cuddling you," says Fred with a sly grin, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer. It's abundantly clear that he's not wearing a shirt, and their faces are practically inches apart. In front of his brothers and Harry.

"Fred, come on, you git," groans Ron. "Let her go so we can get dressed."

Sighing heavily, Fred releases his grip on Ara, but she thinks he might hold on a little longer than he should, fingers trailing down her arm slightly as she stands up. "You lot are no fun."

"Breakfast is ready," Ara says, pulling the door open, and as she turns to leave, Fred tosses something heavy and gray at her. She catches it and stares down at it. "Your jumper, Fred?"

"Looks better on you." Fred shrugs, that mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he pulls a t-shirt on. "Get rid of those goosebumps, too."

Ara glances down at her arms and immediately feels her cheeks heat up. There are goosebumps there, yes, but it's not because she's cold.

As she heads back down the stairs, she tugs the jumper on over her t-shirt and joins Mr. Weasley at the kitchen table. He's flipping through their tickets intently, checking what Ara assumes to be their seats and the time of the match.

It's only a few minutes before Harry, Ron, Fred, and George appear from the stairway, stretching and rubbing their eyes sleepily. Fred and George drop into chairs on either side of Ara, and Ara leans her head on George's shoulder, yawning herself.

Mr. Weasley looks up at the boys, and when he sees Harry, he spreads his arms wide, gesturing to his sweater and worn jeans. "What d'you think? We're supposed to go incognito. Do I look like a Muggle, Harry?"

"Yeah." Harry smiles encouragingly. "Very good."

"Where're Bill and Charlie and Percy?" asks George, resting his head on Ara's with a massive yawn.

"Well, they're Apparating, aren't they?" replies Mrs. Weasley, bustling back into the kitchen and lifting the massive pot of porridge off the stove and onto the table. "So they can have a lie-in."

She ladles porridge into bowls and passes them down the table. Fred takes his from her, frowning, and says, "So they're still in bed? Why can't we Apparate, too?"

"Because you're not of age," Mrs. Weasley says matter-of-factly, "and you haven't passed your test. And where have those girls got to?" She turns around and disappears back up the stairs, not bothering to tread lightly the way Ara did. Ara hopes Bill, Charlie, and Percy aren't light sleepers.

"You have to pass a test to Apparate?" Harry asks curiously, turning to Mr. Weasley.

"Oh, yes." Mr. Weasley nods, tucking the tickets into his jeans pocket. "The Department of Magical Transportation had to fine a couple of people the other day for Apparating without a license. It's not easy, Apparition, and when it's not done properly, it can lead to nasty complications. This pair I'm talking about went and Splinched themselves."

Ara, Fred, George, and Ron all wince. Ara's not afraid of anything much, but Splinching makes her deeply uncomfortable, especially considering she, Fred, and George will be taking their Apparition test within a year.

"Cinnamon, love?" asks Fred, handing Ara the cinnamon shaker, and without even asking, passes her the bottle of honey from further down the table.

Ara smiles and takes it from him. Somehow he always remembers her favorite way to eat porridge is with cinnamon and honey, and she remembers all he likes on his is sugar.

"But Bill and Charlie and Percy can all do it?" Harry's asking, taking the treacle from Ron.

"Charlie had to take the test twice," Fred says with a sly grin, brushing Ara's arm as he reaches for the sugar again. "He failed the first time, Apparated five miles south of where he meant to, right on top of some poor old dear doing her shopping, remember?"

Ara covers her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. She remembers this, remembers Charlie's ears turning bright red as he stumbled over the story, and finding him later in the garden, almost to the point of tears and feeling as though he'd disappointed his parents. Ara was only twelve, but she was perfectly comfortable sitting next to him near the hedge, leaning her head on his shoulder and telling him that just because he failed once, it doesn't make him a failure.

"Yes, well, he passed the second time," says Mrs. Weasley, marching back into the kitchen, and Fred buries his face in Ara's sleeve, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

"Percy only passed two weeks ago," George says, wiping his eyes, still snickering softly. "He's been Apparating downstairs every morning since, just to prove he can."

Ara wills her shoulders not to tense at the mention of Percy's name. She's going to have to deal with this eventually, she can't let it bug her this way.

Hermione and Ginny come shuffling into the kitchen now, rubbing their eyes and yawning, and drop down into chairs across from Ara, pulling bowls of porridge toward them. "Why do we have to be up so early?" Ginny asks sleepily, looking across at her father.

"We've got a bit of a walk," says Mr. Weasley around a mouthful of porridge.

"Walk?" Harry raises his eyebrows. "What, are we walking to the World Cup?"

"No, no, that's miles away." Mr. Weasley shakes his head. "We only need to walk a short way. It's just that it's very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup–"

"George!"

Ara jumps at Mrs. Weasley's sharp tone; George freezes on his way to the kitchen sink. "What?"

"What is that in your pocket?"

"Nothing," George replies, a little too hastily, and Mrs. Weasley narrows her eyes.

"Don't you lie to me! Accio!"

Ton-Tongue Toffees fly out of George's pocket and right into Mrs. Weasley's hand. She looks down at them and then back at George with a glare that could kill. "We told you to destroy them! We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!"

"Mrs. Weasley," Ara attempts, pushing her chair back from the table, but Mrs. Weasley's too busy Summoning toffees from pockets, seams, and linings to hear her.

"We spent six months developing those!" Fred says angrily, leaping out of his seat when Mrs. Weasley dumps the toffees into the bin by the door, and Ara grabs his hand warningly.

"Oh, a fine way to spend six months!" Mrs. Weasley retorts, hands on hips. "No wonder you didn't get more O.W.L.s!"

Fred stiffens, and Ara squeezes his hand, but he pulls away. He and George hoist their bags onto their backs and walk out the front door, slamming it rather pointedly behind them without a word.

But Ara has a plan.

She makes the excuse of having left her toothbrush in Ginny's room, and when she's in the quiet of the staircase, makes a split-second decision. Despite her reluctance, there's one person she knows is awake this early. One person who'll do her a favor.

She knocks softly on the door off the second-floor landing.

It opens and there's Percy, standing there in over-large striped pajamas, glasses nearly falling off the bridge of his nose, hair tousled from sleep, and his eyebrows fly up in surprise when he sees Ara. "Uh–um, hi."

"I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, no, I–uh, I was finishing up that report on, uh, cauldron bottoms." Percy jerks his thumb back at what Ara assumes must be his desk, ears turning bright red as he stares at her incredulously. "Did–did you need something?"

"Yes." Ara nods, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "Your mum just threw away loads of Fred and George's candy inventions–"

Percy scoffs. "You mean what they wasted their time on instead of studying? I think she's right, honestly–"

"Percy, hear me out," Ara says gently, and Percy closes his mouth, blushing. "And they're really angry at her. It's a lot of work and time they've just lost, and I can't get them out of the bin without your mum noticing. If you could find a way to maybe Summon them back before you leave this afternoon, I'd really appreciate it."

Percy takes a deep breath, shoving his glasses higher up on his nose, and Ara takes a tiny step closer to him. "Please? Not for Fred and George, for me."

Percy looks down at her, eyes strikingly blue in the half-light of the landing, and then Hermione calls up the stairs. "Ara! It's time to go!"

"Look, Ara, can we talk about–?" Percy begins, and Ara holds up her hand.

"Later, Percy. I promise we can. But not now." She shoves her hands into the pocket of Fred's jumper, not breaking eye contact with him this time.

Percy sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Fine. Sure. I'll do it."

"Thanks," Ara whispers, giving him a small smile, and then she flies down the stairs, kissing Mrs. Weasley a quick goodbye on the cheek and running to join the others.

Fred and George are walking a good four meters ahead of the others, and Ara has to jog to catch up to them. "Hey."

"Hi," George says, bumping her shoulder good-naturedly, but his smile seems slightly forced.

Fred doesn't even attempt to feign happiness; he just exhales forcefully and blurts, "Why can't she understand that we don't want to sit at desks for the rest of our lives?"

"Freddie, she just wants what's best for you," Ara replies softly. "She wants you to be successful. That's all."

"But Ministry jobs aren't what's best for us," George mutters grumpily.

"I know that, but you have to remember, this is a shock to her. You never told her you wanted to open a joke shop, did you?"

Fred sighs and shakes his head, albeit reluctantly.

"And Bill, Charlie, and Percy were all content to study hard and do things more traditionally, so she was expecting that from you two, and then you turned her world upside down." Ara takes both their hands in hers, squeezing gently. "It's not that she doesn't want you to do what you love, it's that she wants you to succeed, and running a joke shop isn't as safe as working for Gringotts or at the Ministry. She's worried about you, that's all. You just have to see it from her point of view."

"God, A, I hate that you're right," George says, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You should talk to her when we get back," Ara replies, smiling. "Let her know your plans, instead of trying to sneak around without her knowing."

Fred just nods, sighing reluctantly, and they walk in silence for a while, making their way through the village in the chilly morning, a faint tinge of gold just breaking the horizon ahead of them.

Ara's hands are freezing, so she shoves them into the front pocket of Fred's jumper, and Fred glances over at her with a grin. He doesn't say anything, but the intensity of his gaze makes Ara's stomach turn over.

Their breath is labored as they climb Stoatshead Hill, the grass dewy and slick beneath their feet, and once Ara almost falls flat on her face, but Fred catches her elbow before she loses her balance fully. "Careful, love," he says, grinning, and pushes her ahead of him.

"Well, we've made good time," says Mr. Weasley breathlessly once they reach the top of the hill. "We've got ten minutes."

Ara takes slow, deep breaths, feeling slightly lightheaded. Despite the chilly air, she's rather warm after the trek up the hill.

"Now we just need the Portkey," Mr. Weasley continues, adjusting his glasses. "It won't be big... Come on..."

Ara's never traveled by Portkey before, so she's not sure exactly what it might be like. From what she knows about Portkeys, they're unremarkable things, like an empty tin can or a rusty alarm clock, things that Muggles wouldn't pick up out of curiosity.

She, Fred, and George scour the ground ahead of them in focused silence, until a voice from afar breaks them out of their stupor. "Over here, Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it!"

The voice isn't familiar to Ara, but Fred and George both groan.

"Who is it?" asks Ara, peering across the hill at the tall silhouettes.

"The Diggorys," George grumbles.

"In other words, Mr. Diggory and his pretentious prat for a son," Fred adds, scowling.

"Cedric Diggory?" Ara rolls her eyes at the twins. "You're just mad because he beat you at Quidditch last year."

"Unfairly, mind you," Fred replies crossly. "If the dementors hadn't shown up and knocked Harry off his broom, we would've won."

"I thought Cedric offered a rematch?" Ara asks as they follow Mr. Weasley over to where the Diggorys are standing.

"Yeah, and Oliver turned him down." George nods, clearly still put out by this. "Said Hufflepuff won fair and square."

"Rubbish," Fred mutters, glowering, and Ara opens her mouth to reply, but they've joined the circle now, and Mr. Weasley is making introductions.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone. He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

Mr. Diggory, a bearded man with twinkling eyes, waves at them genially while holding a moldy old boot, and Cedric says hi, glancing at all of them. Ara doesn't know Cedric well, even though he's in their year, but they've had a few polite conversations. He's kind and extremely smart, as well as handsome, with wavy dark hair and striking gray eyes. Ara wonders if perhaps some of Fred and George's anger toward him might be because he's good-looking, but she wisely keeps her mouth shut.

"Long walk, Arthur?" Mr. Diggory is asking now.

"Not too bad," Mr. Weasley replies. "We live just on the other side of the village there. You?"

"Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced?" Mr. Diggory smiles as he talks. He's clearly the type of person who enjoys the sound of his own voice. "I tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition test. Still, not complaining... Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sackful of Galleons–and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy..." Mr. Diggory raises his eyebrows at the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, and especially Ara, before asking, "All these yours, Arthur?"

Fred snickers beside Ara, and she knows why: Hermione and Harry might be able to pass as Weasleys, but she certainly couldn't.

"Oh, no, only the redheads," Mr. Weasley chuckles. "This is Ara, a friend of Fred and George's–and this is Hermione–and Harry, another friend–"

"Merlin's beard!" Mr. Diggory's eyes widen. "Harry? Harry Potter?"

"Er, yeah," says Harry uncomfortably. Ara has to imagine this gets tiresome, people gawking at him all the time.

Mr. Diggory goes on and on about how Cedric beat Harry Potter and how proud he is, and Cedric flushes embarrassedly, muttering about how Harry fell off his broom because of the dementors. Fred and George scowl at him, and Ara nudges both of them warningly.

Cedric glances at Ara, and she offers him an encouraging smile, as if to say "It's not your fault." He smiles back slightly, before reaching a finger out to touch the boot.

Ara's sandwiched between Fred and George, pressing against both of them, and Fred must be able to tell she's nervous, because he slips his hand into hers and whispers, "Don't worry. It's not too bad."

"Three...two...one..." Mr. Weasley counts, looking at his watch.

And then Ara, Fred, George, and the others are whisked away, speeding and spinning, into a whirlwind of color and light.

.・。.・゜✭・.

fred and george are definitely mad because cedric's cute.