" gred's downstairs trying
to spook mom as we speak . "

ii. Tripwire of doom
6317 Words

MAY STEPPED INTO THE DIMLY LIT living room, the flickering light of the fireplace casting long shadows across the walls. Sirius was sprawled lazily in an armchair, one arm draped over the side, while Harry sat stiffly beside him on the worn sofa. Sirius had called her name moments before, and she'd come, curiosity tugging her forward.

"Ah, there you are," Sirius said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He gestured to the seat opposite him. "Come on, have a seat."

May hesitated for a moment before taking the offered spot. The chair creaked slightly as she sank into it, the fabric soft but clearly old. Sirius leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his grey eyes gleaming with interest.

"So," he began, his tone light but inquisitive, "are you two settling in alright? House isn't too grim for you, is it?"

May nodded slowly, her hands clasped in her lap. "It's... different," she admitted. "But it's fine."

Harry gave a similar nod, though his expression was more guarded.

"Good, good," Sirius said, leaning back with an air of satisfaction. "It's not much of a home, is it? But it does the job." He paused, watching them both carefully. "What d'you think of it? Bit of a gloomy place, isn't it?"

May tilted her head, considering her words. "It's... well, it's got character," she said, trying to be polite.

Sirius barked a laugh. "Character? That's a kind way of putting it."

"How long have you lived here?"

Sirius's smile faded slightly, replaced by something more wistful. "Oh, this place has been in my family for generations," he said, waving a hand around. "A proper Black family heirloom. After the old, miserable hag who called it home finally kicked the bucket, it landed in my lap. Lucky me."

May raised an eyebrow. "You mean your... parents?"

Sirius grinned, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Parents, grandparents, cousins—all of them as mad as they come. And not in the fun way, either."

Harry frowned. "But it's yours now?"

"It is," Sirius confirmed, his tone sharp but tinged with pride. "I've done my best to make it less... them. Bit of a challenge, mind you, but worth it."

May glanced around the room, taking in the dark wood paneling, the heavy curtains, and the faint traces of something sinister that still clung to the air. "I can see that," she said quietly, her gaze flickering back to Sirius.

"Enough about me and this dreary old house," Sirius drawled, leaning back in his chair with an air of practiced nonchalance. "What about you, May? Let's hear a bit more about you."

May blinked, her expression calm as she tilted her head slightly. "What about me?" she asked, her tone as even and measured as ever.

"Oh, you know," Sirius said with a wave of his hand. "You and Mary—your mum. What's she been up to?" He turned to Harry with a nostalgic grin. "We were all thick as thieves back in the day, y'know. Best mates, the lot of us. Actually, I'd wager Mary and Lily were closer than any of us. Practically inseparable, they were."

May nodded politely, her fingers fiddling idly with the hem of her sleeve. "She talks about it sometimes," she admitted, her voice soft but steady.

Sirius's grin widened. "Does she, now? Bet she's got loads of stories. Does she miss us much?"

May hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yeah... she does," she said carefully. "She doesn't really see many people these days, though. Not with... the way we live."

"The way you live?" Sirius echoed, sitting up slightly, his curiosity piqued. His sharp eyes flicked over her, but the moment May's posture stiffened, he caught on.

"Ah," he said, holding up a hand. "Don't worry about it, love. I don't need to know." His voice was light, but there was a glimmer of understanding in his gaze.

May exhaled quietly, relief softening her features. "Thanks," she murmured, a small, grateful smile tugging at her lips.

Sirius returned the smile easily, his tone turning playful again. "Well, don't let it trouble you. If Mary's still anything like she was back then, she's probably got her reasons, doesn't she? Stubborn as a mule, that one. Brilliant, but stubborn."

May chuckled faintly at that, her guard slipping just a little. "You're not wrong," she said, her voice carrying a faint warmth.

"There we go," Sirius said with a wink. "A smile suits you much better than all that serious business."

Harry watched the exchange quietly, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. For a moment, the gloom of Grimmauld Place seemed a little less heavy.

"You know," May said suddenly, her tone light but with a touch of mischief, "I reckon you should grow your hair out again."

   Sirius raised an eyebrow, clearly caught off guard. "Oh, do you now?" he replied, leaning back in his chair. "And what's brought that on?"

   May shrugged, her expression calm but with the slightest hint of a smirk. "My mum's got a picture of all of you—an old one. Your hair was longer then, shoulder length, I think. Looked a bit less... scruffy."

   Sirius let out a bark of laughter, clearly amused by her cheeky remark. "Less scruffy, eh? Charming." He grinned, his eyes twinkling. "I'll have you know, this look has its admirers."

   "Course it does," May replied, deadpan, though her lips twitched as if she was fighting back a smile. "But maybe with less of the... shaggy dog vibe?"

   Sirius laughed again, properly this time, and leaned forward with a playful glint in his eye. "You've got your mother's sharp tongue, you do," he said fondly. "Always knew how to sneak in a dig while keeping that innocent face."

   May shrugged again, but this time there was a faint warmth to her expression. "Must run in the family, then," she said casually, meeting his gaze.

   "Well, I'll take it under advisement," Sirius said, pretending to stroke his chin in thought. "Though I'm not sure anyone's ready for a return to that era. Hair longer than James's—he hated it."

   "Bet he did," May quipped. "Couldn't have you stealing his thunder."

   "Exactly," Sirius said with a mock-serious nod. "Couldn't risk it. Still, nice to know someone thinks I could pull it off again."

   "Don't let it go to your head," May replied, her tone dry but with a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.

   Harry watched the banter unfold, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The way Sirius and May were chatting—it was like they'd known each other for years, their ease with each other standing out in the otherwise tense household.

   "What do you reckon, Harry?" Sirius suddenly asked, breaking Harry's train of thought. He tilted his head and grinned. "About the hair, and all?"

   Harry blinked, then glanced between Sirius and May, her face already set in a look of quiet amusement. "Er—I reckon she's quite right, actually," he said, trying not to laugh as Sirius let out a dramatic groan.

   "Oh, brilliant," Sirius said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Now the both of you are ganging up on me and my hair? This is what I get for trying to be the fun one."

   "It's not ganging up," May said with a sly smile, leaning back in her chair. "It's an intervention."

   Sirius threw up his hands in mock surrender, laughing. "Alright, alright, I get it. No more comments about the hair—at least for now." He winked, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement, just as Tonks appeared in the doorway.

   "Sirius," she called out, her voice bright, though she didn't linger. She gave a quick smile to Harry and May before disappearing as suddenly as she'd arrived.

   Sirius grinned at the two teens, his signature mischievous smile firmly in place. "Well, you lot behave," he said, wagging a finger at them before strolling out of the room, humming softly to himself.

   The door creaked shut behind him, leaving Harry and May alone in the quiet room. For a moment, neither of them spoke. It wasn't an awkward silence, exactly, but it hung in the air, heavy and expectant.

   Harry shifted in his seat, finally blurting out the question that had been nagging at him. "You said your mum wouldn't come back to the wizarding world. Why's that?"

   May looked at him, her expression unreadable at first. After a moment, she gave a small nod, leaning back slightly in her chair. "She left after her last year at Hogwarts," she began slowly. "To escape the war. She's Muggle-born, and—well, you know how things were back then." Her voice dropped, softening with something like regret. "She hasn't been back. Not once."

   Harry furrowed his brow, fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. "Not even for... I dunno, anything? A visit?"

   May shook her head firmly. "No. Not a thing. She reckons it's safer this way—especially for me. Says the wizarding world has too long a memory." Her lips curved into a wry smile. "And, apparently, a knack for trouble."

   Harry tilted his head, watching her carefully. "You don't sound like you agree."

   "I don't." Her voice was steady, but there was a flicker of something sharp in her eyes. "I think running away doesn't make you safe. It just makes you lonely." She gave a short laugh, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "But then, I suppose I'm not the one who had to live through it all, am I?"

   Harry nodded, understanding more than he wanted to admit. "Yeah. Guess not." Harry nodded thoughtfully, his gaze flickering to her. "I reckon I know how that feels, though," he admitted quietly. "Being stuck in hiding and all. It must be..."

"Lonely," May finished, her voice soft, her eyes briefly fixed on the worn carpet beneath her. She gave a slight nod before continuing, "I don't really know much about it all—this world, I mean. Only what my mum and dad told me before... well, before. I feel a bit like an outsider, if I'm honest." Her voice wavered ever so slightly as she cleared her throat. "But I s'pose now that I'm living with Remus and spending time here, I'll grow to... learn more."

Harry frowned a little, curiosity creeping into his expression. "You've been living with Remus?"

May nodded, her calm demeanor steady. "Only for a few days," she explained. "I didn't really have a choice if I wanted to come here. After what happened with the Triwizard Tournament... my mum wasn't exactly thrilled about the idea of leaving her secure spot."

Harry tilted his head, his curiosity deepening. "What about your dad? He didn't... didn't want to come along?"

The question hung in the air for a beat longer than felt comfortable. May's expression hardened, though her tone remained even as she replied, "My dad's dead."

Harry's face paled at her bluntness, and he stumbled over his words in a sudden panic. "Oh—blimey—sorry, I didn't mean—mine is too—"

Before he could spiral further, May let out an unexpected burst of laughter, the sound clear and unrestrained.

"Sorry," she managed between laughs, "but that's—well, that's a different reaction than I usually get." Her smile lingered as she looked at him, her eyes glinting with amusement.

Harry, cheeks flushing red, ducked his head in embarrassment, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, erm... guess I put my foot in it there."

"It's alright." May's voice softened as she waved a hand dismissively. "You didn't know. No harm done."

Harry nodded, the awkward tension easing slightly. "Thanks. It's just... yeah, I know how that feels too."

May tilted her head, studying him for a moment. "Seems like we've got more in common than I thought," she said with a small smile.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, his voice quieter now, though the weight of shared understanding lingered between them.

   The silence crept back in, but this time, it felt less heavy. Like they'd both said just enough to fill the gaps without needing to say more.

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   The house had grown eerily quiet, considering how many people were in it. The faint hum of hushed voices drifted up from the kitchen below, where Molly and Arthur Weasley were conversing quietly with Sirius and Remus. May caught snippets of their murmured conversation, but it didn't provide much distraction, and soon she found herself wandering upstairs.

   She hadn't really paid attention when Sirius showed her the room earlier, and now, if she was being honest, she was a bit lost. She moved aimlessly through the hall, her footsteps echoing slightly as she ascended the next set of stairs. She passed several doors before she came to one that was slightly ajar. Intrigued, she pushed it open.

   The room was a vivid contrast to the rest of the gloomy, darkened house. It was bursting with color and life, as if the very walls had been painted with joy. Posters plastered the walls, advertising joke products with exaggerated slogans, diagrams of experiments gone wrong, and scorch marks here and there that suggested some recent (and likely disastrous) tests. The air carried the faint smell of burnt rubber, a lingering trace of magical mischief.

   The beds were a chaotic mess—unmade, blankets askew as if tossed aside in a hurry. Around each bed, scattered personal items told their own story: Quidditch magazines, mismatched socks, and half-finished prototypes of magical gadgets. It was organized chaos at its finest.

   May took a few more steps into the room, admiring the mismatched shelves stacked with joke products. Boxes were haphazardly labeled with curious names like Puking Pastilles and Canary Creams, and there was a faint trace of smoke still lingering in the air. Her eyes scanned the clutter with a hint of amusement before she tripped over something on the floor—an errant contraption that hadn't yet been put to proper use.

   "Careful there, love. That's our patented 'Tripwire of Doom,'" a familiar voice called from behind her, dripping with playful mischief. May turned, her eyes landing on one of the twins she'd seen earlier, though she couldn't quite place which one. He was leaning casually against the doorframe, his trademark grin stretched wide across his face. "Still a work in progress," he added with a wink.

   "Oh," May said softly, her voice quieter than his booming one. She glanced around the room again, her eyes landing on the mess once more. "Is this...?"

   "Me and my twin's room, yeah," he replied, his tone shifting slightly as his eyes moved over her. They flicked up and down, taking in her outfit, and a subtle grin tugged at his lips. May's ensemble was simple but had a sense of style that couldn't be ignored.

   She wore a brown halter top with buttons down the front, giving it a casual yet chic vibe, paired with light-wash denim jeans that had a relaxed fit. Over the top, she wore an oversized black leather jacket that added a touch of grunge to the look, and her black platform shoes gave her a certain edge. Silver jewelry—rings, bracelets, a pendant necklace—peeked from under the sleeves of her jacket. She had taste, there was no denying that.

   The grin on his face grew wider as he eyed her, but he quickly schooled his expression back to one of casual amusement. "You're in the right place," he said, his voice smooth but with a cheeky undertone.

   "Sorry, I got a bit lost while... wandering," she explained quietly, oblivious to the way George's gaze lingered on her.

   "No worries," he answered with a shrug, his grin not fading in the slightest. "As long as you're not snooping around or giving our dear mother a rundown of what goes on in here."

   May looked up, confusion flickering across her face. "Why would I do that?"

   George raised an eyebrow, his voice light with amusement. "Because she refuses to step foot in here," he replied. "After her dear old daughter came back downstairs with a blue face, well... she's been less than keen on even looking at this room."

   May's eyes narrowed as she surveyed the room, the troublemaker written all over George's face. Her gaze shifted to the wire she'd nearly tripped over, and she carefully stepped around it, causing George's grin to widen even more.

   "You're lucky you didn't set the stank bomb off. The other one must've forgotten to set it up," he said, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

   "Right..." May said, sounding somewhat dazed by the chaos around her. "Which one are you, anyway?"

   "Forge," he answered, a confident grin tugging at his lips.

   May raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "I'm serious," she said, tone dry. "Which one are you really?"

   George leaned against the doorframe, clearly enjoying himself. "I'm George. Gred's downstairs trying to spook Mum as we speak."

   May's eyes widened in realization. "You mean Fred?" she recalled, remembering his name from downstairs.

   "That's the one," George replied with a chuckle. "I thought I had you there for a second."

   May nodded slowly, though the amusement in her eyes was hard to miss. "Nice to meet you, George."

   She seemed.. not very thrilled through her tone.

   "Nice to meet you too, though you don't sound all that thrilled about it," George teased, his voice dropping into an almost conspiratorial tone. "You know, I could still set that stank bomb off, just for fun."

   May gave him a bemused look, as if the thought of it was ridiculous. But then, a small smile crept onto her face, one that she couldn't quite hide.

   May slowly nodded, her gaze drifting away for a moment as she took in the chaotic energy of the room. She studied the scattered joke products, the half-finished gadgets, the well-worn Quidditch magazines. But as she did, she was unaware of George's eyes following her every move, clearly checking her out in a way that was almost too obvious for anyone paying attention.

   He couldn't help it—she was fit, no two ways about it. His thoughts had slipped into a kind of blur, his focus caught on the way her leather jacket hung just so, the curve of her silhouette, the confident yet casual way she carried herself.

   When she finally turned back to him, their eyes met. There was a brief, awkward moment where the two of them locked gazes, neither of them quite sure how to break the silence. It was as though the entire room held its breath, their stares stretching on for a beat too long before either of them could speak.

   But before anything else could be said, a hand landed on George's shoulder, jolting him from his daze. "Georgie," a voice called out, laced with playful mockery, and another twin appeared in the doorway, grinning ear to ear. "Mum's not happy—" He paused, his eyes flicking over to May, who was still standing in the middle of their room, clearly out of place. "Well, well, look at that. A visitor."

   George quickly shifted his attention away from May, a sheepish grin spreading across his face as he cleared his throat. "What've you done?" George asked, his voice filled with mock disbelief as he leaned against the doorframe, arms folded. His eyes glinted with the usual mischievous spark that seemed to constantly dance behind them.

   "George! Fred! If I see one of your faces down here again, I'm confiscating every single thing in that room!" came Molly's sharp voice from the kitchen, followed by the sound of something clattering.

   Both twins immediately burst into laughter, synchronised to the point of being uncanny. "Clearly enough," George smirked, shooting a quick glance at Fred, who raised an eyebrow.

   "Not enough," Fred retorted with a grin, his gaze never leaving May. He tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "So, did you learn the hard way when snooping? Did the stank bomb go off?"

   May crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. "I wasn't snooping," she replied coolly.

   "And no, it didn't go off." George shrugged, his grin never wavering.

   Fred snorted, rolling his eyes as he gave her an appraising look. "Figures. The room's starting to smell like strawberries and flowers," he said, gesturing to the air around them. "Got a lovely scent there."

   "Jasmine and raspberries," May corrected, her lips quirking up at the corner. Fred's grin widened at her sharpness.

   "Right, course," Fred replied, feigning a thoughtful look. "Jasmine and raspberries, much more sophisticated. Gotcha."

   "So, since you're intruding and all," Fred continued, leaning in a little closer with an almost conspiratorial look in his eyes, "wanna help us test out one of our little projects?"

   May looked at him deadpan. "Am I going to lose my head? Or a limb? Or my dignity?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

   The twins exchanged a long glance, eyes narrowing as though silently communicating. It was clear they were up to something, but neither seemed overly concerned. "Then absolutely not," she added with a small sigh, shaking her head slightly. "Actually, I should be heading off to find my room...and your mother warned me to stay away from you two."

   Fred's expression shifted into an exaggerated pout. "Oh come on, don't be like that," he teased, nudging George with his shoulder as he leaned into him playfully. "We have to get used to each other anyway. We're the oldest of the bunch, right? The wisest, the most... distinguished. We'll get along fine, won't we, Georgie?" Fred's grin widened as he shot his brother a meaningful look.

   George slowly turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow in that effortlessly charming way he did. "Right on," he agreed, drawing out the words. He sent a playful wink in May's direction, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary.

   May glanced at the two of them, suddenly feeling like she was a bit part in their game. "We can get along from a distance," she said dryly, taking a step back. "Plus, I'm sure opposites don't mix."

   Fred raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "What makes you think we're opposites?" he asked, leaning forward a little as if waiting for her response.

   "Is it the clothes?" George chimed in, gesturing to their mismatched outfits with a smirk.

   "Or the shoes?" Fred added, his eyes dancing with amusement as he looked down at her boots.

   "Or the colours?" George asked, raising an eyebrow as he studied her outfit more closely.

   "All of the above," May replied, her tone wry as she glanced between the two of them. She shook her head slightly before clearing her throat. "Now, if you'll excuse me..." she trailed off, turning to head toward the door. But just as she moved past George, he gave her a soft but noticeable look.

   "Your room's downstairs, to the right of Ron's," he said with a casual wave, as though he were simply pointing her in the direction of the kitchen.

   May gave a small, curt nod. "Thanks," she said, though her voice carried a touch of wariness. She could feel the twins' eyes on her as she passed, but she didn't break her stride.

   As she made her way down the stairs, nearly bumping into someone on the way, she stopped just in time. "Sorry—" she began, looking up into the face of a familiar redhead.

   Ginny raised an eyebrow, eyeing her carefully. "It's alright," she said with a slightly puzzled look, clearly wondering why May was coming down from the twin's room.

   Before May could say anything else, George appeared behind her, stepping lightly down the stairs. He glanced briefly at the two girls before continuing on down to the next flight of stairs, his eyes briefly meeting Ginny's before he vanished from sight. Ginny watched him with a raised eyebrow, then turned her attention back to May, studying her for a moment.

   May cleared her throat awkwardly and walked past her, following the direction George had given her. She descended the last set of stairs, passed a couple of closed doors, and found the one she was looking for. With a final glance behind her, she entered the room and quietly shut the door, the soft click of the latch signaling the end of the brief but strange interaction.

May slowly eased herself onto the bed, the weight of the day finally starting to catch up with her. She unzipped her leather jacket, shrugging it off and tossing it gently onto the bed frame. The room, though simple, was neat—obviously, the twins had done a decent job of tidying up. It didn't matter much, though; even if they hadn't bothered, she'd have to make do. She'd be here for a month, after all. A whole month.

She ran her fingers over the soft quilt that covered the bed, its fabric smooth under her touch. Her mind wandered as she sat there, taking in the space, her eyes gliding over the modest furnishings. The room had a cozy sort of charm, despite its simplicity. The smell of dust and old books lingered faintly in the air, a quiet testament to the many years the Weasleys had lived here.

Her hand dipped into the pocket of her jacket, fingers brushing against the cool metal of a locket. She pulled it out, running her thumb over the golden surface, its edges worn by time. She flicked it open with a quiet click, revealing a faded photograph inside. It was of her parents, both so young. Her mother and father, in their early twenties, grinning like the world was at their feet. They looked so impossibly happy, so full of life. It felt like a lifetime ago—hell, it was a lifetime ago.

A small breath escaped her lips as she closed the locket with a soft snap, her gaze drifting to the window. Outside, the sun had begun to set, casting a pale golden light over the garden. She sat there for a moment, lost in the quiet comfort of the room, the soft hum of the house around her. The weight of everything seemed to sit in her chest, but she didn't mind. She'd been through worse. This place, these people—they didn't know her. But maybe, just maybe, they could help her forget the things she was running from.

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   May let out a startled screech, her body jerking upright in the bed, eyes darting around the room in a frantic sweep. She froze for a moment, her heart hammering in her chest, then turned her head towards the open door. All she caught was a flash of red hair disappearing out of sight. Her breath slowed, but her eyes remained wide.

It wasn't the sound that had startled her—there was no loud bang or sudden noise. It was something far worse. A gut feeling, an overwhelming sense that someone had been in her room. It was a paranoia thing, something she'd developed over the years of living with her mother. It wasn't just a simple fear; it was awareness. She was always alert, even when she slept.

She had done it to Remus once, poor bloke, when he tried to wake her up. She'd frightened the poor man half to death, and she'd felt terrible for it.

May breathed out slowly, trying to shake off the lingering unease. She swung her legs out of the bed, pushing the covers off her legs. But as her feet hit the floor, she paused. Something felt... off. She looked down to see a gloppy mess on the floor. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as she immediately recognized it.

Gred and Forge, she thought, the irritation creeping into her mind like a bad taste. She could already picture the mischievous grins they were probably wearing, undoubtedly proud of their little prank. Calm, May, just breathe. She exhaled deeply and reached down, peeling off her socks. Without a second thought, she tossed them to the side, feeling her patience begin to wear thin.

She stood, stretched, and exited her room with a quick, deliberate step, catching sight of Ron sprinting down the stairs. Hermione was right behind him, casting May a polite but somewhat curious glance.

"I'm sure Molly's done with breakfast," Hermione said with a smile, before trailing off after Ron.

May just nodded, her lips pressed together as she descended the stairs. Her eyes flickered over the familiar house, taking in the warmth of the worn, homely surroundings. When she reached the kitchen, she saw the Weasleys, all gathered around the table, a comfortable chaos that always felt oddly comforting.

"Good morning, May!" Molly called warmly as she placed a steaming plate in front of George. She gestured for May to sit at the table, and May complied, quietly taking the seat.

"How did you sleep?" Molly asked, setting the plate down carefully.

"Alright," May replied, leaning back slightly in her chair, "Except for the goo on my socks." She couldn't resist dropping that little tidbit, her lips twitching into a slight smirk.

At her words, Ginny's grin widened mischievously, while Molly turned sharply toward Fred and George, who were both attempting to stifle their amusement.

"Fred and George Weasley!" Molly exclaimed, her voice a mix of exasperation and affection.

May simply waved it off, her gaze shifting towards the twins, her tone playful but firm. "It's quite alright," she said, her eyes locking with theirs. "Childishness can't be helped." She smiled sweetly, as if daring them to try and say otherwise.

"You're telling me," Ginny muttered, shooting a sideways glance at the twins. Fred and George both looked at her, their smirks fading into sheepish grins.

"Oi, Gin," George called, a teasing edge to his voice, "you've been spending too much time with Ron, haven't you?"

Ron glanced up from his plate, cheeks puffed out as he chewed vigorously. "What?" he asked, his voice muffled by the food in his mouth. He didn't seem to notice the amused, slightly disapproving stares from the table.

May shook her head slightly, suppressing a smile as she continued to eat her breakfast. She stole a quick glance at Harry, who gave her a small, polite smile. She returned it just as subtly before returning her attention to her food, trying to block out the clutter of conversation swirling around her.

"Ron," Hermione muttered, a disapproving sigh escaping her lips as Ron shoveled more food into his mouth. "Honestly, must you chew so loudly?"

"Yeah, mate, you're giving the dragons a run for their money," Fred teased from the end of the table, his grin wide as he leaned over to reach the jug of juice. "Ginny, pass me that," he added, his finger pointing toward the pitcher with exaggerated flair.

Ginny, rolling her eyes at her brother's antics, flicked her wrist to pass him the jug. "You're all the same," she muttered, but there was no venom in her words. Her tone was light, more of a sibling's exasperated fondness than genuine irritation.

"So, Harry," Arthur began, his voice casual but warm as he turned to their guest, clearly trying to steer the conversation into safer, less chaotic waters.

May tried to keep up with the conversations, but there was so much chatter that she had to focus hard to catch bits of it. Fred and George were trying to quietly debate some new prank idea, while Ron and Hermione were bickering about something she couldn't quite catch. Ginny and Molly were talking about the Quidditch, while Arthur continued asking Harry about life. The sounds blended together into a sort of comfortable noise.

She wasn't quite accustomed to the noise. Back home, it had always been just her, her mum, and her dad. And then, it was just her and her mum. Mealtimes weren't exactly gloomy, but they weren't cheery either. Her parents had done their best to paint their black-and-white world in brighter colours for her sake. Even when they'd shared meals with the Muggles they were hiding, it wasn't like this. Everyone had lived in fear, glancing over their shoulders even as they forced smiles for the little girl with long, curly brown hair who darted around the safe house handing out food with a beam that lit the room.

May hadn't realised how heavy that gloom was until she'd grown old enough to see the world for what it truly was—the one her parents had tried so hard to shield her from.

Now, as the Weasley kitchen buzzed around her, she couldn't help feeling like an outsider. It was loud, yes, but there was a warmth to it, a brightness that made her chest ache. She poked at her food with her fork, lost in thought, until Arthur's voice pulled her back to the present.

"What about you, May?" he asked, his tone kind but curious as he leaned slightly forward, directing the attention of the table toward her.

May froze for half a second, her chest tightening as she felt the weight of the question settle on her shoulders. Her past wasn't exactly the kind of thing you shared over breakfast. She glanced up, her grip tightening on her fork, and forced a small smile.

"Erm... not much to report, really," she said, trying to keep her voice light. She shrugged, attempting nonchalance, though her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her plate. "Mum—uh, Mary—and my dad worked a lot." Her voice dipped, as though speaking their names out loud gave the words more weight than she'd intended.

Arthur gave her an encouraging nod, and Molly cast her a quick, motherly glance, but the rest of the table seemed to sense her discomfort and kept their focus elsewhere.

"To help Muggles," May admitted, her voice quieter now, as though the weight of her words might carry too far. "She helped them into hiding during the first war with my dad. Around the time I was born," she added, her fork tracing idle patterns on her plate. "My father was the one who started the system. Even after he—" she hesitated, her voice catching slightly. "Even after he passed, she decided to start it back up. Just in case."

The table went still, the usual lively chatter fading into silence. For a moment, all that could be heard was the clinking of cutlery. It wasn't uncomfortable exactly, but it carried a heaviness. May could feel the unspoken thoughts swirling around her admission, the reality of her father's death and her mother's work hitting just a little too close to home for a room full of people fighting a war.

She glanced toward Molly, whose smile was warm but uncertain, as if she didn't quite know whether to offer comfort or change the subject. "Your mum was a remarkable woman," Molly said softly, her tone full of quiet admiration. "And your father—he must've been very special. His actions speak louder than any words could."

May gave a faint nod, her lips pressing together as her gaze dropped back to her plate. The silence lingered, a shadow over the usually cheerful Weasley breakfast table.

Across from her, George shifted in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the stillness. His eyes flicked to Fred, and with the barest hint of a smirk, he jabbed his twin sharply in the ribs. Fred jolted, his mouth already opening in protest before George raised his eyebrows pointedly, sending a silent message: Do something.

Fred sighed, looking deeply put-upon. "All right, fine," he muttered before clearing his throat theatrically. "Er—uh—right, so, Ginny," he began, glancing around for inspiration. "I turned your entire wardrobe purple last night."

The room jolted back to life. Ginny, who had been mid-sip of her pumpkin juice, slammed her glass down with a loud clink. "You what?" she screeched, her arms flailing wide in indignation.

Fred shrugged, feigning nonchalance but failing spectacularly as his lips twitched with a suppressed grin. "Thought it could do with a bit more flair, you know? Dreadfully boring otherwise."

"Are you completely off your rocker?" Ginny yelled, glaring at him like she was seconds away from hurling her toast at his head.

"Fred," Molly said sharply, her eyes narrowing as she folded her arms. "What have I said about your antics?"

Fred didn't even attempt to defend himself, instead sinking back in his chair with a resigned air. George, however, was all but glowing with smug satisfaction as he leaned back and surveyed the chaos with the air of someone deeply proud of his work. He caught May's eye across the table, his cheeky grin widening when he saw her watching.

"What're you looking at?" May asked, her tone cool but her lips twitching in the faintest hint of amusement. The two could hear each other even over the bickering.

"You," George replied breezily, still grinning. "Look a bit less like you're carrying the weight of the world now, don't you?"

May rolled her eyes but couldn't entirely stop the corner of her mouth from lifting. "If this is your idea of cheering people up, it's pathetic," she said dryly.

"Oi, now. That's harsh." George's grin didn't falter as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "I'll have you know, cheering people up is my specialty. Just ask Fred."

Fred, still being scolded by Molly, shot George a dark look. "Don't drag me into this."

George winked at May and leaned back again, clearly pleased with himself. She huffed out a quiet laugh and turned her attention back to her plate, the knot in her chest loosening slightly. For all his antics, George Weasley was annoyingly good at what he did.

★

authors note: this is a little short (to me at least) but i'll definitely add more in the chapters. the first few chapters will be during the summer and in the 12 grimmauld place so sort of bare with me. it's to like build the relationships / friendships and other than that, i hope you enjoy!