On the morning of my eighteenth birthday, I wake up in Bill's bed.

No, I didn't sleep with him. Fleur would most likely flay me alive if I ever touched her precious fiance.

It makes sense, logistically. As Bill has only a single bed, he is sleeping in a tent in the garden with Fleur.

I like it this way. Bill has just a small room, not much bigger than my cupboard under the stairs. The single bed fills the space, giving it a very cosy, safe feel.

I close my eyes wanting to go back into my dream where it's still last night and I am still in Fred's arms. It's my favourite place in the world, my happy place.

A knock at the bedroom door startles me awake again.

"Happy birthday, Harri!" Ron calls through the door. "Hurry up and get dressed, Mum's made you a special breakfast!"

Wow, I'm surprised at that given that her son nearly died for me last night. Perhaps she's poisoned my bacon.

"Jus' coming," I say groggily, my voice thick with sleep.

I wash and dress, the whole time conscious that I'll be seeing Fred any moment, my heart thrumming in anticipation. I tell it off. You're not allowed to love that boy anymore.

He is standing at the counter pouring tea when I enter the kitchen - there are other people in the room but I barely register them.

"Happy birthday, Harri," Hermione says brightly, entering the kitchen behind me. "Have you done magic yet? It's ever so exciting!"

Fred looks up the second she says my name, and my heart skips a beat as his brown eyes meet mine, his smile warm and kind.

"Tea for the birthday girl?" He asks, holding up the teapot.

I nod, trying desperately to find my voice. "Please," I manage.

"Milk, no sugar, because you're already sweet enough." As soon as these words leave Fred's lips I can see he regrets it. His face flushes and he turns away.

"You remember," I smile, finding him so achingly adorable that I have to stop myself from crossing the kitchen and kissing him in front of everyone.

"Of course," he says, his back to me as he continues to make my tea.

"Well, Harri, do sit down!" Molly trills, bustling over to take my arm and lead me to an empty chair next to Ginny.

There is a small pile of presents at my place and I immediately feel the stirrings of excitement as I itch to unwrap them.

"Top one's from me and 'mione," Ron says through a mouthful of toast. "She chose it."

I raise an eyebrow at him. Clearly he'd forgotten and Hermione had kindly agreed to add his name at the last minute.

It's a book on how to chat up wizards. And, given the look of fury on Ron's face when Hermione tells me it worked wonders on Krum, I just know he had no idea what it even was.

I thank Hermione, although I wonder who she expects me to chat up over the coming months. Somehow I don't think this shit will work on Voldemort.

Ginny's present is a packet of half eaten jelly beans, Molly gets me a handkerchief with my initials embroidered on it - apparently it's tradition or something. Hagrid - who spent the night in the garden shed - gave me some home made rock cakes.

"Now I know it's no owl," he says gruffly, clearly embarrassed, "but I'm a bit short on funds. Gamekeeper salary is shite. Where is Hedwig by the way?"

I suck in a sharp breath, a pain immediately forming in my throat. I guess Hagrid hadn't noticed that she'd been killed on the way over, and I didn't know if I could say the words without bursting into tears.

Luckily, Fred saves me. "She didn't make the journey," he says. And suddenly I am filled with his scent as he comes up behind me, leaning over to put my mug of tea down on the table in front of me.

The room falls into a respectful silence, and I nearly die when instead of moving away, Fred places a hand on my shoulder. All I want to do is turn around and hug him, the need to be in his arms is maddening that I don't know how he can't tell just by being near me.

And then his hand leaves and it is Ginny who is pulling me into a hug instead, her flowery perfume replacing his earthy and familiar scent.

"I'm so sorry, Harri," she breathes. "I know she was special to you."

I attempt to eat some breakfast, but not even the delicious melt in the mouth pancakes can help the gnawing feeling of grief in my chest.

I am relieved when I can be excused, with Molly insisting that I must not help clear up on account of it being my birthday. Instead, I go and take George a plate of pancakes to the sitting room where he is still recovering on the sofa.

"Thanks," he murmurs croakily as he attempts to sit up. "And happy birthday."

Seating myself on the coffee table, I try not to wince at the sight of the bloodied bandages around his head, my stomach lurching at the thought of the hole beneath them.

"How are you feeling this morning?" I ask, regarding him sadly. I feel so guilty about what has happened to him.

"Saintly," he mutters.

"Huh?" I ask, thinking that his experience must have helped him find god or something.

"Oi," says Fred entering the room holding a cup of tea. "You already used that one last night."

"Yeah but Harri didn't hear it so it doesn't count." George shrugs, smirking at his brother who sits down on the coffee table next to me, sipping his tea.

"Go on then," I smile, having missed this easy banter with the twins, "tell me why you're feeling saintly?"

"I'm holey," George grins pointing at his no-ear. "Geddit?"

"It was a rubbish joke last night George, and it still is this morning." Fred scoffs, chuckling to himself.

"I disagree," I argue, cocking an eyebrow at Fred, "it's one of the best I've heard in a long time."

"Then you couldn't have heard that many jokes," Fred says as George and I high five each other.

"No, I haven't had much to laugh about lately," I say. It wasnt meant to be a dig, but somehow that's exactly what it comes out sounding like.

After a brief, awkward silence, George breaks it. "Hey Fred, have you given Harri our present yet?"

Fred shakes his head. "Thought I'd save the best till last. Wait here."

Putting his tea down, he jumps up and swiftly leaves the room. I look at George, raising my eyebrows.

"He misses you, you know," George says quickly. "He's been a right grumpy bastard since you two broke up-"

"Since he broke up with me." I correct him.

George regards me sadly. "He thought he was being honourable by freeing you. I tried to tell him he didn't need to break both your hearts over it. But you know what Fred's like - he never puts his happiness first. The guy would literally die for you."

"The thing is, he didn't free me," I mutter dully, "Instead he broke my heart, and over no real reason I can tell other than the fact that he thinks I deserve better than someone who runs a joke shop."

"He knows you like adventure," George tries to explain, "he's scared of holding you back. I think he has this romantic notion that when you're older and you've had all your fun, you'll end up settling down together."

"But why can't I have fun with him by my side? I don't get this idea that he thinks he's somehow holding me back from life."

"That's exactly what I've-" George suddenly looks up past my shoulder, "-hey, here he is!"

I look behind me. Fred is standing in the doorway, a large parcel in his hands as his eyes narrow at the both of us. "Why are my ears burning?"

"Oh, rub it in!" George hollars, pulling up a cushion from beneath him to throw at his brother.

Fred, dodging the cushion, walks over and places the box at my feet, still looking suspiciously between George and me.

"This is nice," George says brightly, "the three of us again. Just like old times. Wouldn't you agree, Fred?"

"Can I open it?" I say quickly, wishing George would shut up.

"That's what it's there for," Fred grunts as he sits back down next to me.

"I'm just worried it'll explode in my face or something."

The words evoke an illicit memory to enter my mind. One involving me, Fred and not a lot else.

It makes my face heat especially as Fred's arm is brushing against mine. George chuckles, his eyes glinting at me knowingly.

"No, not this time," he smirks, winking at his brother. "Hey, Fred?"

Fred closes his eyes as though trying to find patience. "George grow-up, will you? I thought you were supposed to be like dying or something?"

"Well, I can't do both. Pick one and stick to it."

"All right, grow up then."

"Same to you, bro."

They bump fists, their brotherly bond melting my heart.

I choose that moment to open my gift. It's a box of goodies from their joke shop. I pick out all sorts of items, from Pygmy Puffs to Skiving Snackboxes.

"There's more for you at the shop," Fred says, "I've been putting things aside for you."

"More like an entire room set aside for you." George says, scoffing. "I'm not allowed to touch anything in it. Fred insists that nothing is to be moved until you visit."

My heart stills. I turn to look at Fred, my breath suddenly laboured as his eyes melt sadly into mine. "You have a room aside for me?"

Fred shrugs, looking away. "It's nothing, really, just a few things."

"He's put pictures on the wall and there's even a fold out sofa bed in case you ever want to stay over."

"It's just a spare room," Fred says, his face going bright red, "it's for anyone, really."

"Ha!" George scoffs. "That's not what you said when Sally Anne asked to stay after her shift!"

"Harri deserves a room, we wouldn't even have the shop without her!" Fred snaps, breathing heavily. He looks down angrily as he rests his elbows on his knees.

"I told you, the money was yours, you don't owe me anything." I say, trying to ignore the way my heart is racing from this conversation.

And who the hell is Sally Anne?!

"Cooee!" The door bursts open.

The three of us look up to see Molly bustling in with a tray of steaming mugs. "Birthday coffees! I've made them Irish- bums off the table you two!"

I quickly move over to a vacant armchair as the rest of the clan follow inside. Fred's eyes briefly meet mine, and I look away sadly, a dull feeling in my heart.

******

After Irish coffees have been drunk leaving an air of merriness in the room, George volunteers Fred and me to go and fetch some things from his bedroom.

"You know, he could have just accio'd them down," I mutter as we both traipse upstairs.

"Technically, so could we," Fred points out. "Although you don't know where to look, so it's a little pointless on your behalf."

"You know, though." I say.

Fred's eyes meet mine as we enter the twins' room, and I experience a tingling sensation down my spine.

George wants Fred and I to be alone, Fred wants Fred and I to be alone. But do I? Well, yes. But I don't trust myself.

Fred goes straight over to the wardrobe whilst I look around, touching my hand to the bed I know to be his.

"You know I slept here last summer?" I say quietly. "It was strange, considering."

Fred glances up at me from where he is taking a shirt off a coat hanger. "Yeah, Mum said. You never came to the shop with the others. I thought I'd see you."

He sounds hurt, which just makes me feel angry.

"You dumped me, remember?" I grit, curling my hands into fists.

"I know," he hangs his head, his voice heavy. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Hurt me?! You fucking broke my heart, Fred! And you expect me to come skipping into the shop just weeks later as though nothing had happened? It hurt to even see you from a distance, let alone stand next to you and congratulate you on the place you dumped me for!"

"The last thing I wanted to do was break your heart, but the alternative felt like trapping you."

"Yes, I know, you said," I snarl, all the anger I've felt over him dumping me reaching boiling point, "you wanted me to sleep around. Well, guess what? I did. Draco and I fucked. So, does that make you happy, now?"

The look of shock on Fred's face fills me with a twisted sort of satisfaction. "Malfoy?" He swallows, his hands trembling as he grips the shirt he's holding. "So, are you two- are you two together?"

I wait a moment before answering, watching his reaction, letting him suffer just that little bit longer.

"No." I say, and I can see the relief flood instantly across his face. "It was a one off, a mistake, actually. I would never have done it if I wasn't so messed up over you and Sirius."

He closes his eyes. "I wanted to see you when I heard what happened at the Ministry. I wanted to go to you so much."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because-" he looks around as though searching for words, "because I thought it wouldn't be fair on you."

"For someone who once claimed to love me, you sure had a funny way of showing it."

I turn and leave then, grabbing a magazine off the side as I go. Fred doesn't call after me, and he doesn't follow.

"What's this?" George asks looking down at it in bafflement as I throw it onto his lap. "I asked for the Star Trek comic. This is Star Wars."

I glare furiously at him, breathing heavily.

"Well then, next time, instead of trying to matchmake, just accio it!"

*****