You shrug, unwilling to explain. “Stubbed my toe,” you mumble unconvincingly.

Tom’s gaze has followed the line of bloody footprints trailing behind you. “Is that so,” he says in an inscrutable tone.

“Listen – do you think you could…” you trail off awkwardly, unsure how to phrase the question. “Help… me…?” you mutter, unable to meet his eyes.

Tom is silent for a second, and then he steps closer to you. “Give me your arm,” he says quietly, holding out his hand.

You blink, and then slowly extend your hand. Tom takes your wrist in his long fingers and guides it over his shoulders, slipping his other arm around your waist as he lifts you from the wall. You wince as you take a step, but it’s immediately a lot more manageable.

With his help, you manage to hobble down the first corridor mostly in silence, biting your lip to stop yourself from exclaiming in pain.

“What happened?” Tom murmurs as you painstakingly take each step down the stairs.

“I already told you,” you mutter.

“Don’t lie to me,” he says calmly.

You glance up at him in surprise. Tom’s tone was commanding and unyielding, but not hostile, his gaze even and unmoving on your face. Something about it makes your skin feel warm, and you’re suddenly hyper-conscious of his hand resting on your waist and just how close your faces are. “I’d rather not say,” you say sheepishly, looking away.

“Why not?” he asks with the same relentless patience.

“You’ll think differently of me,” you say, frowning at the stairs.

“What makes you say that?”

“Jeez Tom, lay off the interrogation,” you mumble.

“Perhaps it would feel less like an interrogation and more like a conversation if you actually answered the questions,” Tom says breezily.

You smile despite yourself, turning your face to hide it from him.

As Tom carefully lifts you down the last step and onto the final corridor, you give a sigh of resignation. “Sometimes… certain people play pranks on me,” you admit nervously.

Tom’s attention immediately goes to your face and lingers there appraisingly. “Pranks,” he echoes.

You nod.

“That’s a lot of blood for a prank,” he says colourlessly.

“Topical, then,” you say with a slightly bitter humour. “They don’t like people of my… heritage.”

Tom goes quiet, and you feel your cheeks burn. It was no secret that Tom’s group of Slytherin boys were infamous blood-purists, and although no one had ever heard him repeat those beliefs himself, it wasn’t hard to imagine that he might feel the same.

“You’re Muggle-born,” he says quietly, looking up at the corridor ahead.

You nod, wishing you could sink into the floor. The remainder of the limp to the Hospital Wing passes in tense silence, and by the time Tom finally lowers you onto one of the beds, you’re half-wishing he’d left you upstairs and you’d just crawled there yourself.

“Thanks,” you mutter as the matron hurries over and starts tsking loudly at the state of your feet.

Tom nods slowly, looking down at the trail of smeared, bloody footprints. “You should tell the professors about this,” he says blankly.

You shrug again. “We’ll see.”

His head swivels back around, his eyes narrowing. “You’re planning on keeping this to yourself?” he asks sharply.

You arch a brow. “This is fairly normal, Tom,” you say, “I’ve told the professors before. Nothing changes.”

Tom hesitates, his brow furrowing as he stares at you. “We shall see,” he says quietly.

You frown, peering at him curiously – but Tom only gives you a long, inscrutable look before turning on his heel and following your blood-stained footprints back out the door.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

“I know what I’m doing Snow White. I don’t need your help.” You explained, putting the ingredients on the far end of the table.

“Snow White?” He asked looking at you in confusion only fueling you more.

“She’s a princess just like you.” You smirked and turned back to the cauldron. You were reading through the directions silently to yourself when you felt Draco’s breath fanning over your neck. “Ever heard of personal space, princess? I believe I see your book right there unopened.” You pointed to his side of the table only for him to move closer.

“I’m not a princess.” He grumbled, reaching across for the ingredients only to have you smack his hand away.

“Then don’t act like one.” You fired back.

“Dammit!” Draco exclaimed when the ingredients fell off the edge of the table causing you to groan.

“Stay on your side Snow White.” You spat, shoving him off of you to bend down and retrieve the ingredients. 

“Don’t call me that.” He mumbled and you rolled your eyes.

“I thought nicknames were your thing princess? Can’t handle when the tables turn?” You teased and both of you stayed quiet for the most part aside from the frustrated gabs you both threw at the other when you got in each other's way.

After that day in class you seemed to run into each other a lot more than you ever had before. It seemed to be common knowledge of your new nicknames for Draco by the second day you were teasing him with them. You could see how much they bothered him, and it only made you want to keep saying them even more. There had always been something else mixed in with the annoyance that you could never read off his face, but there was no way you were going to let anything stop you from degrading him with them.

This had gone on for months on end, Draco seeming to get more frustrated with the names the longer they went on. It had surprised you that he never seemed to have any insult to throw back at you. Half the time you had expected him to throw back you being muggleborn in your face, but even that hadn’t come up. It hadn’t been until you’d bumped his shoulder during Christmas that it seemed to finally get to him.

“Filthy little mudblood.” Draco spat at you while you walked away making you freeze in your spot. Your hand started shaking, and the anger from the past six years finally came out. You turned on your heel, grabbing your wand before roughly pinning him to the wall with a shove.

“Listen here princess.” You growled, shoving your wand into his throat making him let out a choked gasp. “You ever, and I mean ever, call me that again and my wand is going to be so far up that tight ass of yours hexes will be flying out of your mouth.” You spat in his face, your wand digging even deeper into his skin with each word. “You may be a pureblood but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re just a scared little boy who has been spoiled rotten by his daddy his entire life.” You explained, your chest rising and falling quickly. 

Draco’s heart was beating out his, and you could see the lust that began filling his eyes, his breaths coming out shallow when his airways started becoming more restricted. You felt something stir inside of you, a tingling sensation settling in between your legs when you realized how close you were to him. There was a fantasy that you hadn’t known about within you, and you couldn’t believe that it was happening with Draco Malfoy of all people. Your eyes flickered down to his pants when he shifted and you smirked when you saw the tent that had formed. Unknowingly you pushed your wand harder against his throat and Draco let out a confused whimper. 

“You really are just a spoiled little brat aren’t you Snow White?” You teased pulling away, your wand finally going back into its rightful place before you looked Draco up and down. He gave a small shy nod, the heat rushing to his face making him turn a deep shade of red. 

He stayed silent, not knowing how to respond until you pinned his arms above his head and kissed him roughly. Draco moaned into the kiss, melting against the wall making his arms go slack in your grip. You let them slide down a tad, your fingers brushing his palms before your fingers interlocked tightly with the others. You finally pulled away after what felt like years, both of you panting and looking flushed. 

“I…” Draco breathed out, his words getting caught in his throat, his fingers coming up to touch his lips that were still tingling. 

You couldn’t help but pull him in for another kiss, your fingers immediately tangling into his hair. Draco seemed to be unable to move anything other than his lips, melting at everything and anything you did. He’d wanted this for months, every time you’d degrade him it sent a shiver down his spine and the deep want in him only grew as time went on. Now that his own fantasies were getting fulfilled he could hardly get himself to do anything to you in return.

“You’re being so good for me” You praised softly, kissing under his ear earning a small whine from the boy leaning against you. 

You started leaving all the marks you could manage to leave against his neck, all the whimpers and moans you were receiving only fueled you to leave more. Your hand ran down his shirt slowly, and when you grabbed his hardened length through his pants his head fell forward onto your shoulder. Draco’s warm breath fanning over your neck made you shudder, but that didn’t stop you from rubbing him at an agonizingly slow pace. 

A surprised moan left you when Draco’s lips started grazing against your neck between moans and he started sucking gently. There was no doubt in your mind that by the end of this both of your necks were going to look as though they had lost a fight to leeches. All too soon for Draco’s liking you pulled away, and instead of doing anything more like he wanted you pulled away completely. 

You thought they’d be back after a couple of weeks, and they were. But not Harry. He didn’t come back, you couldn’t imagine what they’d done to him. Had they sent him to an orphanage? Did they dispose of him along the motorway? Had he been thrown alone onto a boat that was sailing out to sea? Your childish mind thought up all sorts of reasons why Harry didn’t return, only for Harry to confirm why he’d left nearly a month later.

He sent you a letter, which you thought was rather odd. He knew you had a telephone, he used to steal the Dursley’s phone to call you all the time. You opened the letter to find his scrawny and untidy handwriting strewn across the paper. He said he’d been sent to a boarding school by his aunt and uncle and would only come home in the summer times. As much as you were happy he was okay and hadn’t been abducted by aliens, you were still disappointed that summer was the only time you could see him.

It was during his first year away that you experienced your soulmates first proper physical pain. You’d felt things here and there, like a grazed knee when you hadn’t fallen, or a bump to the head when you hadn’t even moved, but nothing like you had when you were ten. It was the day before your eleventh birthday when you woke in the middle of the night to your cheek being cut open slightly and blood trickling down your face. You tentatively lifted your finger to your cheek and patted it lightly and winced as it stung beneath your touch. It was definitely bleeding, so you got up, washed it clean and went back to bed. But you were awoken again by an excruciating pain, you couldn’t explain the exact feeling of it. Your parents came rushing to your room, throwing themselves on the bed and asking you what was wrong. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move. When it was all over, it was as if nothing happened, you were completely fine. You had a small cut on your head now too, and on your wrist. You parents became very worried about you and your soulmate. You tried to convince them that it was probably just an accident, that they weren’t being deliberately hurt (though the pain you felt didn’t seem as if it had come from a fall or a crash). They were still sceptical also, and they slept with you in your bed that night. But nothing else happened. Then, the next day, you received your Hogwarts letter.

When Harry came home that summer, you didn’t tell him about the letter. You didn’t want to tell him your good news after an entire school year of him being away at a boarding school and coming back to the Dursley’s afterwards. You could only imagine the type of boarding school they’d sent him to, he was probably beaten there. Your mother went over to the Dursley’s every time you and Harry wanted to get together. They wouldn’t allow it otherwise. Your mother hated that Harry had to live there, so she never had a problem inviting him over. That summer was one of the best summers of your life, even though you were keeping secrets. But then again, so was Harry. You just didn’t know it at the time.

When it came to your first year, your mother and father took you to the train station together. Though they were both muggles, they still made it to the platform to wave you goodbye. You didn’t go to a compartment until you couldn’t see your parents anymore. You waited in front of the window, waving with a lump in your throat, until they were gone. At which point, you headed down the aisle to find an empty compartment. Everyone seemed as if they already knew each other and you couldn’t figure out who was a first year and who wasn’t. You were about to give up when you saw none other than Harry Potter himself, your best friend. You stopped in your tracks, thankful there was no one behind you and simply stared at him through the glass. It didn’t take long for Harry to notice you, at which point he launched himself up from his seat, flung the door to his carriage open and threw himself onto you. He was so elated that you were there, and you felt a very similar way.

He introduced you to his friends, Ron and Hermione, and then told you his story. The famous Harry Potter. All the reasons you’d made up for his scar together over the years came to an abrupt end. And the answer was nothing either of you could’ve thought up in your wildest dreams. You became part of the golden trio in no time at all after you were sorted into Gryffindor. Hermione was glad to have another girl to even the playing field and Harry was happy to have his best friend in the entire world attending Hogwarts with him. It was a little disappointing for you both that you wouldn’t have classes together, but every other waking moment was spent with him and his friends.

It was that year, that more excruciating pain overcame you. You were trapped with Ron behind the wall of boulders, waiting anxiously for Harry and Ginny to come back, when you felt as if you’d been winded. Your knees hurt also and you assumed that your soulmate had fallen over and paid no mind. It was only when a puncture wound formed itself into your forearm that you let out an audible cry of pain. Ron was immediately concerned, but you told him it was nothing. You lifted your robes and saw your arm bleeding. You knew then that when you met your soulmate, you’d have to keep them out of trouble and scold them for the years of pain and odd injuries.

Your second year seemed to be the year with a lot of pain. But it was indescribable pain. It felt as if the very air you breathed was being sucked from your body, as if you were being slowly killed from the inside out. Your potions professor immediately came to your aid as you began to wheeze. There seemed to be no oxygen in the world for you to breathe. You collapsed, but your professor held you up. And almost as soon as he caught you, you could breathe again. Clean and fresh air ran through your lungs as if it had always been there. But your coughing and spluttering made it apparent that it hadn’t been. Snape insisted you be taken to the hospital wing, but you assured him that nothing was wrong with you, that it was your soulmate who’d been injured. He didn’t seem all too convinced, but he gave in anyway, knowing he couldn’t force you to do anything. Though he wished he had that power. But in the end, that’s where you ended up, staying with Ron in the hospital wing the entire night.

Your third year was the year you realised. You were watching the triwizard tournament, watching Harry go up against a dragon of all things. Every time he leapt to the floor, or crashed into a boulder, you felt it. Sickening realisation washed over you. If Harry was going to die in this tournament, would you? You didn’t know how it all worked, but you knew that this tournament was not going to end well for either one of you. The pain you felt, you managed to keep to yourself for the first challenge. When Harry’s neck bore gills, you kept your pain to yourself. When it felt as if he was drowning, you heaved over the edge of the wooden structure, gasping for air. When Harry shot into the air from the water of the black lake, you fell to the floor, thankful to be able to breathe once more. No one had noticed that you had left the crowd, they were too focussed on whether Harry had drowned. When your arm slit itself open during the third challenge, you knew something was wrong. You cried out and your forehead felt like it was on fire. Hermione and Ron immediately turned to you, concerned. You told them that night. That Harry was your soulmate, that every bit of pain he felt, you felt. You told them about the other challenges and your previous years. By the time you felt as if you were in the clear, Harry was already back, sobbing over Cedric’s dead body.

Your fourth year was the year all of Harry’s friends discovered your secret. Dumbledore was kneeling next to Harry on the floor of the ministry. You were rushing over to him when you came to an abrupt halt. His body lifted up in pain as he screamed. You fell to the ground, feeling all that he felt. Dumbledore turned around, looking at you. He knew straight away of course. He urged your friends to go to your side, but Ron and Hermione were already doing just that. You didn’t want to make noise, you didn’t want to make it seem like you were in pain. It wasn’t about you, it was about Harry. You pushed Hermione off of you and pulled your body across the floor to Harry. When you got to him, he didn’t see you. He didn’t see anything, his eyes were glazed over. You didn’t touch him, you just watched as Dumbledore did, whimpering softly by his side.

When the photographers had had their fill, you all made your way back to Hogwarts. You weren’t sure if Harry saw or heard what happened in the ministry. But you didn’t think he had. He never said anything, so neither did you. His godfather had just died, Voldemort had been inside Harry’s head, and all of you had a near death experience. You left that year, not sure what to feel. That summer you and Harry didn’t see much of each other. You didn’t have the slightest idea of what to say to him, so you said nothing at all.

Your fifth year, you were drowning again. You had no idea where Harry had gone, only that he was with Dumbledore. When it felt as if you were drowning, you knew something had gone terribly wrong. Ron and Hermione were at your side but the three of you knew that there was nothing they could do. For either you or Harry. When the air filled your lungs once more, you didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know if Harry was dead, and that was why the pain was gone, or if he’d been freed from the water that was slowly killing him. You didn’t know if you died when your soulmate did. You just didn’t know. The next time you saw Harry, he was kneeling over yet another dead body, but this time, it was Professor Dumbledore’s. You didn’t know what to do, and your mistake that day was doing nothing. That year, you, Ron, Hermione and Harry decided that you weren’t going back to Hogwarts the next year. You would miss your sixth year, and they would all miss their last. But none of you cared anymore. It was a small price to pay.

In what should’ve been your sixth year, after leaving your parents with no memories of you, you walked over to Harry’s house. The now empty house. You tried your best not to cry, but you couldn’t help it. Harry comforted you, wrapping you in a hug and running his hand up and down your back soothingly.

“They loved you,” he said. And as heartbreaking as it was to hear, it was exactly what you needed. You arrived at the Weasley’s after Harry, and were thankful for no new wounds. The wedding was a disaster, but again, neither of you developed any injuries. When Ron was injured at the ministry, Hermione’s arm was also in the same condition, though she managed to keep calm and treat Ron before herself.

“Soulmates feel each other’s pain y/n, but it’s not supposed to be at the same level as them. I’ve never seen or read about a case like yours before,” she said. That’s when you realised that you and Harry were different, you could feel everything he felt at the same intensity. You shouldn’t have been able to, but you did. It was that year that you felt as if you were drowning once again. Harry always seemed to be drowning, why was that? You woke that night in your tent, coughing and gasping for air. Both you and Hermione knew it was Harry. You couldn’t get to him though, not in your condition, and Hermione wasn’t leaving you. When you recovered, you both rushed out to find him, but instead found both him and Ron.

You aren’t sure why all these memories are playing back in your mind. You’re seeing your life through lapsing images. All of them are connected to Harry, and the pain you felt with him. But why were you seeing it now? The images start to become blurry, as if they’re fading away and you can’t reach out to pull them back. For some unknown reason, you know that if they leave, it signifies the end of something. But the end of what? You don’t know, nor do you care now. You felt oddly at peace.

“Y/n,” a voice whispers to you. You can’t see anything, it’s too bright.

“Y/n, listen to me. Wait for me. Wait for me to wake up. Promise me you’ll wait,” it says. It’s Harry.

“Harry? Where are you?” You call, unable to see anything but blinding sheets of white.

“Promise me,” he whispers.

“I promise,” you yell, “Where are you? Harry?” You ask. But he’s gone.

---

“Y/n!” Hermione calls to the girl who’s collapsed to the floor. She runs over to her, face full of worry and tears.

“Y/n, no. No, no, no,” she cries, cradling her body against herself, “Harry,” she sobs against her. Both her and Harry had left her, they had left everyone. What were they to do now? She looks up to find Voldemort walking towards them all, his followers close behind him. A giant horde of black bustling toward them, threatening to take the light they so needed to survive. Hermione leaves y/n on the cold, hard ground, whispering a soft apology as she rises. She walks towards the rest of fellow classmates and former teachers. Her allies.

“Harry Potter...is dead!” Voldemort shouts, face full of wild and untamed joy.

“From this day forth, you put your faith in me,” He says, more calmly now than before, turning to his followers and shouting that Harry had fallen again. They laugh, it’s sickening, and both Hermione and Ron are on the brink of tears at the loss of their two best friends. But the shock and unwillingness to accept keeps them at bay.

“Now is the time to declare yourself, come forward and join us...or die,” he says. They all feel it, the mutual acceptance of death. They would rather die than betray all that they believe in. If they join, their friends die in vain. Their friends die for nothing. No one moves. Not even Draco at his parents beckoning. He refuses, and the refusal sparks something within them all. One last push. One last fight. A fight to the death, but they would fight nonetheless.

Neville walks forward, or more, hobbles forward, “I’d like to say something,”

Voldemort looks as if he physically suppresses the urge to kill him and allows him to speak.

“It doesn’t matter that Harry’s gone,” he starts, “People die everyday. Friends, family, yeah, we lost Harry tonight. But he’s still with us, in here,” he says, pointing at his heart, “So’s Fred, Remus, Tonks, all of them. They didn’t die in vain. But you will,” He shouts directly to Voldemort himself as he begins to laugh hysterically, but Neville carries on, “Because you’re wrong! Harry’s heart did beat for us, for all of us! And it’s not over!” He bellows, pulling the sword from the hat of Godric Gryffindor.

As Harry falls from Hagrid’s arms, you rise from the ground where Hermione left you only moments ago. Harry shouts a spell at Nagini, glances at you and runs. Voldemort launches all sorts of spells after him. You follow Harry, staying far enough away so that Voldemort can’t see you, but close enough so that you can see the two of them. When both he and Harry plummet down to the earth, you know you’ll never make it down in time to help, but you run anyway. As you run, thousands of thoughts plague your mind. But they all come down to one thing. Harry. You loved him with all your heart, and he never knew. You never told him, and now, he and you both could die without ever uttering those words to each other. All the times you could’ve said it, all the times you could’ve kissed him, hugged him, loved him. All those missed opportunities. And now you’re running with your lungs burning and tears falling fast down your face. Harry.

You skid along the damp stone and tumble to the floor. You look up, and see Harry standing in a midst of floating ash. He’s alive. You push yourself up with all that is left within you.

“Harry!” You shout. He turns around, looking at you with no distinguishable expression. He begins walking towards you, and then he’s running, and then his mouth is crashing against yours. Every emotion was poured into this one single kiss. Every missed opportunity was recognised in the collision of your lips. You pull away, breathless.

“I love you,” you say, tears welling in your eyes.

“I love you too,” he replies, caressing your face.

“I wish I’d told you. I wish I’d told you the moment I knew,” you say, beginning to cry.

McGonagall had given you no indication as to why you were being escorted to a greenhouse and when you tried to ask, she’d shushed you.

“Professor Sprout?” You said, even more confused. Sprout sat at her usual desk, tending to a mandrake. You looked to McGonagall who had a tense expression on her face. “Is this - is this about Fred and George leaving? I couldn’t have stopped them if I wanted, honest!”

“Miss-” McGonagall started and you steamrolled over her.

“And if this is about that prank me and Lee set on Umbridge - it was harmless! I mean, her office is going to stink but she didn’t get hurt!”

“Dear,” Sprout caught your face in her hands. “You’re not in trouble.”

“I’m not?” You asked, your panic dying down.

“No,” McGonagall said, her eyes twinkling. “If I may, it seems that we’ve been given instructions to help you with a task.”

“A task?” You asked dumbly.

Sprout nodded and patted the mandrake happily. “Yes, straight from the headmaster.”

“Dumbledore?” Your eyes widened. “A task for me?”

“Yes dear,” Sprout said, waving her wand towards the door. You heard it lock and a muffled echo. “It is crucial that you not tell anyone what we’re about to tell you.”

“Pomona,” McGonagall said quietly. Sprout’s eyes never left yours. You nodded and she smiled.

“We were notified that you were one of the first of Dumbledore’s Army to be able to produce a patronus.” McGonagall said, voice tinted with something that sounded like respect.

You nodded sheepishly at Sprout, who smiled proudly. “Yes Professor.”

“Would you mind showing me?” McGonagall asked.

Frowning, you pulled out your wand warily. After performing it so often for lessons, it had become like second nature. “Expecto patronum.”

The familiar coyote burst out of your wand. It padded around the room a few times before evaporating.

“Let’s try a few more things.” McGonagall smiled and her eyes sharpened. “Let’s try a duel, shall we?”

You tentatively raised your wand when she raised hers. You blocked multiple spells and managed to almost hit her with one when she held up a hand. You straightened and chewed on her your lip. “I’m sorry professor!”

She shook her head and Professor Sprout was beaming. She pushed a set of plants towards you. “What do each of these do?”

You recited their uses and multiple purposes. She nodded and turned to McGonagall.

“You’ve just taken your apparition exam?”

Nodding, you winced. “I’m not the most graceful but I can do it.”

“You have a gift with transfiguration,” McGonagall said finally.

Smiling, you gave her a small smile. “I’ve always liked your class professor.”

McGonagall straightened, looking pleased. “Well, it seems that all your professors hold you in high regard and Dumbledore has tasked us with teaching you something that would be an incredibly difficult feat.”

You nodded. Everyone could feel that things were changing and while you didn’t necessarily agree with Dumbledore's ways, you were a Hufflepuff. Harry was loyal to Dumbledore and you were loyal to Harry.

“I’ll do it,” you said with no hesitation. “If this can help beat Vol - You-Know-Who - and help Harry, I’ll do it.”  

Sprout beamed. “I told you Minerva.”

“This will be incredibly complex,” McGonagall said, looking disgruntled. “I had Dumbledore himself teach me but we’ll need to be discreet what with that - that woman around.”

You stifled a laugh at the disgruntled expression she always adopted when talking about Umbridge.

“Hagrid has said we’re welcome to use his home and I dare say we will need to take him up on it.”

“My dear, you cannot speak of this to anyone,” Sprout said seriously. “The only people who will know of your transformation are in this room.”

“And the headmaster,” McGonagall added.

You frowned and nodded. “Transformation?”

Sprout glanced and McGonagall and patted the mandrake again. “I’ve been taking good care of this myself. The leaves will be ready in a week and that’s when we’ll start trying. It depends on the full moon next month.”

“It took me under a year to finally get this right, and we must assume that this feat will take just as long. However, it could be shorter – we must get you to take the potion at the right time,” she said with a deep inhale. “Dumbledore believes it might be beneficial if you are able to become an animagus.”

Straightening, you gaped at her. “An - an animagus?”

McGonagall nodded. “We assume that the form you’ll take is that of a coyote. However, it is imperative that you keep this to yourself. Tell no other professor, not your parents, not any of your friends; as anyone who has this information is in danger.”

“Danger?” You frowned, wringing your hands together nervously. “Why would they be in danger?”

“Because, dear, Dumbledore believes it best not to register this fact with the ministry… should it ever fall.”

You stayed quiet for a moment and nodded. If Dumbledore was worried that the Ministry of Magic would fall one day – you should be too. You had people you needed to protect. “We’d have another animagus that could travel under their noses without them knowing,” you said, “like Sirius.”

Sprout frowned but McGonagall pursed her lips. “Yes, I do believe that’s the reasoning. I feel like I must remind you that this is not mandatory, you do not need to do this. In fact, I’ve argued against this - not due to lack of belief in you but, oh honestly, you’re still a child.”

She huffed and Sprout patted her arm. “Dumbledore left it up to us to decide.”

McGonagall nodded. “If you’re going to be - galivanting - out there doing Merlin knows what, I wanted to be certain that you know how to defend yourself.”

“My dear,” Sprout said quietly, pulling your attention to her. She smiled kindly and took one of your hands in hers. “You do not have to do this. However, should you want to, we’ll help you.”

You thought back to the families that have been destroyed by this war, of Neville and Harry’s parents, of your own Weasleys - of Arthur after the attack - of the children the death eaters had tortured. You were of age now and the reality was that this war was not one that could be avoided and you owed it to your own family to fight with them.

Nodding, you straightened your shoulders. “I’ll do it. What do I need to do?”

/////

The first face you saw coming off the train was George’s. His arms lifted you right off the steps of the Hogwarts Express and you shrieked.

“George!” You laughed, surprised. “You scared me!”

“I’ve missed you,” he said loudly, kissing you right then and there. You smiled into the kiss and squirmed when he deepened it.

“For Merlin’s sake, George! Let her breathe, you’re suffocating her!” Molly’s voice came from behind him.

You huffed a laugh and George leaned back, placing you down on your feet. “Is she still mad at you two?” You whispered.

“She was, then she saw our shop - it’s coming along. We’re close to opening now,” he said, the smile on his face wide.

“Am I finally going to get a tour?” You smiled at him, your arms still around his shoulders.

“A tour of your future home?” Fred asked, coming up behind George. You released George and smacked his shoulder.

“Stop going around telling people that we’re moving in together,” you whispered harshly.

George shrugged, nonchalant. “It’s the truth, we all know it’s going to happen eventually.”

“That’s the only reason why you got the bigger room,” Fred joked.

You rolled your eyes and gave Fred a quick hug before moving onto Molly and your parents.

“My dear,” Molly grabbed your hand, “I really must say you’re so brave.”

Freezing, your heart started to pound. “W-what do you mean?”

“For staying with that son of mine,” Molly said, narrowing her eyes towards the twins. “Oh, I could’ve just killed the two of you when you dropped in without a care in the world! Just pleased as could be.”

“You liked the shop mum!” Fred protested. “You cried and everything!”

You smiled at their indignant expressions.

“Shop?” Your dad asked, his eyes lighting up.

Fred explained to your parents about the shop they managed to buy and some of their products.

“I actually have one with me,” George said pulling a firecracker from his pocket.

“Don’t you dare!” Molly shrieked but it was too late.

The platform lit up and you heard some of the students cheering. Harry popped up next to you and smiled at Molly’s disgruntled expression. “That helped find you quickly,” he said with a dull smile.

“-mortifying! I can’t even look at them in the eyes!” Molly wacked each twin with her bag. “You could’ve gone into the Ministry! She’s going to be a healer! Perfectly respectable!”

Your parents, however, didn’t seem to mind a bit. Your father was laughing, following the fireworks and your mother was smiling as she spoke with Hermione’s parents.

“Hey.” You nudged Harry’s shoulder with your own and he turned his eyes towards you. “If you need me, anytime during the holidays, I’ll be there okay?”

Harry nodded, his eyes still sad, but his smile was genuine. You grabbed him and he hugged you back. “Mum and Dad won’t mind having you over either. I’m serious Potter, I better see Hedwig at least once a week.”

“Alright, alright,” he said huffing a laugh. “See you.”

You waved and watched him approach Hermione and Ron.

“What’s going on?” A voice next to you said. You turned to see Ginny lugging her case behind her.

Molly was still trying to stop the fire crackers to stop multiplying. You shrugged. “Fred and George being Fred and George.”

“It’s been less than five minutes and mum’s already screaming at them?” Ginny asked, her arm linking with yours.

“You know how it goes,” you said, smiling along with her.

/////

Your clock rung, shrill, and you scrambled to shut it off. You froze, turning to look over at George, who smacked his lips and tightened his hold around your waist.

With a quick look to the brightening sky, you slipped out of George’s hold and out of the room. You jumped to get your shoes on and you quietly made your way to the roof of the shop.

Glancing at the watch George had given you, the one he’d inherited from his father, you gripped your wand tightly. You tried to shake the sleep from your head – you’d been doing this for months now, the last leg of your journey. Sprout told you that it’d be any day now -you couldn’t afford to slip up. You’d been lucky to get a clear full moon when you did. So if you made a mistake, you’d need to start over again and months of work would be for nothing.

As the first rays of sun peeked over the horizon, you started. “Amato Animo Animato Animagus. Amato Animo Animato Animagus. Amato Animo Animato Animagus…”

You kept going until the sun had finished its ascension into the sky. You took a moment to sunbathe, stretching out your limbs before slipping back into the flat. You were never able to get back to sleep after you’d spent the good part of the hour chanting, so you settled into your new routine. You opened your textbooks onto the kitchen table and started working on your summer assignments.

After a few hours, you stretched and sighed when you rolled your shoulders. Glancing at the time, you started on breakfast.

As you knew it would, the smell of food woke the boys. George stumbled out first, his hair sticking up wildly and shirt slipping off his shoulder. He smiled sleepily when he saw you. George wrapped his arms around you and dropped his chin on your shoulder.

You stayed there, wrapped around each other for a moment. Turning to press a quick kiss to his cheek, you flipped the pancakes in the pan.

“Smells good, love,” he said quietly.

Their flat felt new even after a few weeks. Some of the twins’ belongings were still in boxes strewn around the small living room. While you’d spent the last few days helping unpack their things, there always seemed to be more to unpack.

You’d be starting the new term soon and the closer you got to leaving, the more worried George seemed to get. He was trying to hide it, but you knew they were both feeling on edge. For that reason, and that reason alone, was why both Molly and your parents let you stay with them for two weeks before start of term.

“Should be ready soon.” You shut off the fire and reached for the one muggle machine you managed to drag into their apartment – a coffee maker. “Just waiting on a fresh pot. Could you wake Fred up for me?”

“Or,” he said pressing a kiss to the sensitive patch of skin below your ear, “we could find something to occupy ourselves until he wakes up.”

“George,” you said warningly.

“I love it when you scold me,” he joked, flipping you around.

Before you could get any further argument out, he pulled you up onto the counter and pressed his lips to yours. Quickly, all rebuttals flew out your head and you found yourself leaning into the kiss.

You ran your fingers through his hair and tugged lightly. As predicted, he let out a soft sound that you kissed away.

“We’ll see each other in Hogsmeade,” you said reassuringly. “If anything seems off, I’ll owl you right away.”

He frowned and you swept your thumb across the soft skin under his eyes. “What’s got you so worried? Umbridge is gone, Dumbledore’s back. It’ll be safe - you would normally be stuffing my suitcase full with pranks.”

“I don’t know. We’ve never been at Hogwarts without each other,” he said quietly, “everything’s changing now.”

It was true, everything felt like you were standing on an edge that no one seemed to be able to pull back from. After what happened at the Ministry - after Sirius…  

“You were at Hogwarts a whole year before I got there,” you said lightly, trying to get him to smile. “First Year George did just fine without me.”

At last, George grinned. “That poor git had no idea what was coming for him.”

You laughed and pulled him towards you. The sudden sound of a door slamming made you jump.

“For the love of – we agreed!” Fred shouted, his hand over his eyes, “you two were to respect the common areas and not subject me to this torture. Merlin’s beard, you’ve been attached to the face since our fourth year, shouldn’t you be used to each other by now?”

You snorted and hopped off the counter. “You’re just as bad when Angelina’s here, don’t point fingers.”

Fred huffed. “Yes, but at least we have the decency to not to be caught snogging in the kitchen.” He bumped into the sofa and went headfirst into the cushions.

“For Helga’s sake Fred, we’re both fully clothed. You can open your eyes!” You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at the disgruntled expression he shot to you. “Quiet. Sit and eat your eggs.”

Starving, you managed to eat quicker than either of them. Fred continued to whine about the both of you when George straightened.

“You know,” George said thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t have to chase after my girlfriend if she managed to not wake up with the sun. I’d like to have a cuddle in the morning.”

You rolled your eyes. “You sleep like the dead and are a horrible morning person.”

“You’re right,” George said with a mock stern expression. “But I’d like the option!”

“What?” Fred said, bits of toast flying with his exclamation. “Since when does our badger wake up early? You always rush through breakfast before your first class ‘cos you overslept.”

George seemed to realize this, his eyes lighting up and turning towards you.

You immediately darted up, placing your half-finished plate into the sink. “I don’t know, I like switching up my schedule. I’m going down to get some pastries for later, do you two want anything?”

“Badger-” You waved a hand and closed the bedroom door before they could continue.

Helga blinked her eyes at you from her perch. “Don’t look at me like that, you know what Sprout said.” She huffed and you sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

/////

You sat on the counter, next to the cashier’s box, chewing absently on a lemon bar you’d bought on the way to the shop. Glancing around at the few people milling around, you couldn’t help but smile. The shop was exactly what you thought it would be like. Products were spilling from the shelves, there were a group of girls giggling by the love potions, and a few boys admiring the firecrackers.

“That looks good,” a voice to your left said. You turned to glance over your shoulder and smiled when you found George with his chin propped on his palm.

“It’s from Alberta’s Sugar and Potions.” You waved it in your hand. “She baked it this morning, you want a taste?”

His eyes lit up and nodded. You reached up to offer him a piece when he caught you by surprise and pressed his lips to yours. You smiled into the kiss, your free hand coming up to his neck and pulled back after a moment. “What was that for?”

“You offered up a taste.” He winked and you laughed.

“Oi, I don’t pay you two to sit around and snog all day,” Fred shouted from the stairs.

“You don’t pay me at all,” you shouted back. “I could leave-”

“No,” George tightened his hold on your hips, and tucked his nose into your neck. “We’re closing soon anyway.”

You craned your neck to look at the large clock by the stairs. “Closing early today?”

George nodded. “You’ve only got a few days left now, best make the most of them.”

You grinned, threading your fingers through his hair and scratched at his scalp. “I don’t mind waiting until after you close, this is important.”

“What’s a bloke have to do around here to get some time with a witch?” He asked loudly and you flushed.

“Alright, alright!”

“You know, you’d think he’d remember I’m his twin,” you heard Fred telling a nearby customer, “but no. His girlfriend is going away in a week and all of a sudden I’m invisible.”

Verity snorted as she came out of the stock room. “Mister Weasley, where do you want me to put the new shipment of expendable ears?”

Fred sighed. “Next to the wands - wait no, up there, here let me take that.” Fred grabbed one of the boxes and walked off towards the front of the shop.

“How do you know who she’s talking to when she says that?” You asked, tracing the freckles on his chin.

George’s eyes slid closed and he hummed. “When she says what?” He leaned into your touch and you smiled.

You leaned forward and brought your lips to the shell of his ear. “Mister Weasely.”

He stiffened and a light pink blush made its way up his neck and across his face. You smiled, delighted in his discomfort and he sighed. “You find too much enjoyment in that.”

“I like seeing you blush especially since you’re both so shameless.” You shrugged a shoulder and smiled at his glare. “I won’t be able to tease you regularly now, I’ve got to get it in while I can.”

George’s disgruntled expression morphed into a frown, his eyes losing their mirth. “Don’t remind me.” He hooked his chin on your shoulder and you felt his sigh against your neck.

“Bloody hell, are you two still snogging? Merlin’s sake- will one of you at least help Verity load the last of the new shipment?” Fred exclaimed, exasperated.

You kissed George’s temple and hopped off the counter. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, I’m going - for free I might add.”

“Yeah, yeah!” Fred rounded the counter and nudged George’s elbow. You watched them whisper together, their heads bent towards each other and you frowned.

The clock tower rang twice and an announcement drifted down from the rafters.

“Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes will be closing in thirty minutes.”

Fred and George clapped from the back of the store and grinned at the stragglers. “Get all you can now and remember, we open tomorrow morning for any other purchases you may want.”

You walked around the store, waving your wand and making sure most of the products were placed back on their shelves. Focused on levitating the canary cream puffs onto a top shelf, you stumbled and fell into someone’s arms.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, righting yourself. A smiling face greeted you and you beamed. “Neville!”

“Hello,” he said, face pink. “Sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“S’all right, it’s my fault too,” you said with a warm smile. You’d always had a soft spot for Neville. “How was your summer?”

“Good, Gran’s finally stopped telling people on the street about what happened at the Ministry,” he mumbled.

“You should be proud,” you said fiercely, “you did great Neville. I’m still mad at you all for not taking me with you.”

Neville’s face was starting to resemble a tomato. “W-we didn’t know, it happened too quickly-”

“I’m just joking Neville,” you said softly, “I’m glad you’re doing better.”

Before you could continue your conversation, you saw a group of boys huddled in the far corner of the shop. Narrowing your eyes, you frowned. “Sorry Neville, I’ll be right back.”

“Just stuff them in your cloak,” one of the boys whispered to the other.

“You scoop those out of your pockets before I jinx you,” you said, pointing at a group of third years.

They all froze at the sound of your voice. They turned and you crossed your arms. Glaring at them, you faintly recognized them from Gryffindor. “Put them back,” you used your Head Girl voice, “now.” Cowed, all except one emptied their pockets and ran off. The biggest one shot you a contemptuous look and you sighed. Why was there always one?

“I would listen to her if I were you,” George said, coming to stand by you. “I’ve never seen anyone do what this one can do with a jinx.”

Undeterred, the boy turned - his hands filled with fire-crackers - and you sighed. “Alright then, s’always got to be the difficult way with you Gryffindors.”

George snorted.

“Admorsus,” you said, pointing your wand at the crackers in his hands.

The boy shrieked loudly, shaking his hands as a few of the packages grew teeth and latched themselves onto his hand.

Fred scooped up the items dropped, cackled, and went to help another customer.

“Not so smug now are ya?” George kissed your temple and smiled. “I always knew you were meant to work here.”

You huffed. “I can’t be your security detail forever.”

“Again with the reminders,” he mumbled.

The boy ran, still trying to shake one of the packages off his hands, and slammed down on the crackers - igniting them.

Verity sighed and lifted her wand, pointing towards the fireworks. You ran forward, moving past the boys laughing from the side. “Verity, no!” The three of you shouted but it was too late.

“Stupefy!”

The fireworks doubled and you sighed. The crowd ducked and you could hear Neville scream as one of them grazed his head.

“It’s always chaos with you Weasleys’.”

George laughed, his eyes lighting up, and doubled over with an arm around his stomach. Well, you sighed, at least he got a good laugh out of it.

Fred rolled up his sleeves and sighed. “Alright, we’re officially closed. Now we just need to bring the pygmys out and get the crackers to stop. Badger you’re the best at-”

You let out a strangled sound at the sight of the sun setting. “I’m sorry- I forgot - I have to- I’ll be right back!” You sprinted up the steps and through the apartment. Trying to calm your pounding heart, you started chanting the spell as you climbed the steps to the roof.

“Amato Animo Animato Animagus…”

/////

You sighed as the sun fell and the sky was dark. Crossing your fingers, you hoped that you weren’t too late. McGonagall would have your head if it was. It’d taken you three tries to even get the potion - you couldn’t handle having another mandrake in your mouth for another month.

You settled on sending Helga to Sprout, to make sure everything was still okay. You descended the steep stairs into the flat and absently chewed on your nail. The summer had brought many showers but you needed a lightning storm - sooner rather than later. Without Sirius, you were the last advantage the Order would have.

“Hello,” a voice said, scaring you out of your thoughts. George sat on the sofa, arms behind his head. “Should I bother asking where you’re running off to all the time or will you manage to talk your way around that too?”

You sputtered, not sure what to say. He stared at you in tense silence for a moment. George had no temper so you usually got nervous at the sight of it. You wrung your fingers, feeling the weight of his silence. You tentatively sat next to him. He didn’t reach out and neither did you.

“Is it something serious?” He asked quietly.

“Yes,” you said honestly.

“Are you sick?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m fine.”

He watched you for another moment and then nodded, satisfied with your answer.

“I’m assuming that if you could tell me, you would’ve already,” he said. “Which means it’s something Order related.”

You took his hand between your own and brought it to your face. “You would’ve been the first person I’d tell. Please don’t ask me anything else.”

“Alright,” he said, bringing you towards his chest. “I trust you.”

Fred’s footsteps echoed as he climbed the stairs. He opened the door and eyed you two warily. “Is everything alright now?”

“Peachy,” George said, the smile returning to his face. You squeezed his hand gratefully.

“Are you - what’s that?” Fred asked, his head tilting. “It’s an owl.”

George opened the window and a tawny owl fluttered onto a nearby chair. It chirped urgently at you and shoved it’s leg out. You unwrapped the letter quickly and recognized Sprout’s scrambled penmanship.

It’s time. Meet us at the Leaky Cauldron as soon as you recieve this.

Your heart started pounding in your chest and George called out your name. As if planned, thunder rumbled outside.

“Who’s it from?” “What’s going on?” “Let me see what it says.”

Before either twin could take a look at the note, it shrieked and ripped itself to pieces. You scrambled to get your wand and your cloak.

“Badger?” George called out.

“Trust me?” You said, turning around and grabbing his hand. “Please.”

He searched your face and then nodded. “Okay, just – be careful.”

You smiled, relieved, and surged forward to kiss him. Within minutes, you ran down the stairs and out into Diagon Alley.

/////

“You got here quickly, did you apparate?” Sprout asked as she ushered you into the room they occupied.

“No, I’m staying with George at their shop until term starts,” you told her, “it’s only a few streets down.”

“Well, that certainly will be helpful,” she said bringing the potion out of its dark casing.

McGonagall pulled out a few potions herself and set them down on the desk in the far corner. “I dare say you’ll need a few calming droughts afterwards.”

“We’ll take you to the Weasleys - it wouldn’t do well to have your parents see you like that. Besides, I know Mr. Fred Weasley has a good eye for potions,” Sprout said with a small smile, “no matter how hard he tried to hide it.”

“Do you think that’s wise?” McGonagall asked. “They’ll be quick to recognize what’s happened to her. The more people who know...”

You frowned, anxiety building within you. “I don’t know…”

“Oh Minerva, you know those Weasley boys joined the Order the moment they became of age. They’ll find out eventually. Afterall, you know these two have been attached at the hip since she came to Hogwarts. I’ve never seen anyone so enamored.”

McGonagall rolled her eyes and you managed to smile. “Alright, if you’re sure.”

You chewed on your lip and nodded. “Yes. They’ll be able to help me if we need it.”

The first bout of lightning shone through the window and Sprout clapped her hands. “Alright, it’s time.”

McGonagall handed you the vial and you slowly pulled the cork. Sniffing it cautiously, you scrunched your nose and Sprouted tutted. “Don’t sniff it, just hold your breath, it’ll work instantly.”

You sighed and tightened the hold on your wand. Without overthinking it, you swallowed the vial and fought the urge to spit it out.

“Alright, you’ll feel it working from your feet up. It’ll start to get painful quickly - Pomona, are the charms in place?”

“Yes, the silencing charm should hold,” she said.

Just as your feet started to become numb, an invisible fist seemed to grab at your stomach and pulled. You stumbled to your knees, your chest heaving. Your skin felt impossibly itchy, like you had a thousand ants crawling all over you but you couldn’t get them off of you.

“Please, make it stop,” you screamed, your spine felt like it’d been replaced with a burning metal rod.

“You’re almost there,” someone said, sound was starting to warp - your eyesight becoming spotty. “It won’t be long now, concentrate dear girl!”

With a few more jabs to your abdomen, it happened quickly. The pain disappeared so suddenly, you’re lightheaded. Habit told you to get off the floor but when you leaned back, you find yourself sitting on your hind legs. Surprised, you scramble back to all fours.

“She’s beautiful, look at the coat on her,” Sprout said with a proud smile. McGonagall looked close to tears.

“You did it, you’ve done it!” She beamed, pleased. “Now, can you hear us?”

Opening your mouth to answer, the only sound that came out was a warbled howling. You quickly stop it and lifted up one of your paws experimentally. You ran your tongue against a row of sharp teeth.

“Don’t try to speak,” McGonagall said, “it takes time to get used to. Nod if you can understand me.”

You nodded, stretching out each of your limbs. Your tail hit the end of the bed frame and you jumped, startled again. Helga, this was going to take getting used to.

“Let’s make sure everything went to plan, then we’ll help you adjust to your new form,” Sprout said, patting your head. “Coyotes are by no means native to England but, you look close enough to a dog that if we get the color of your fur darker.”

“Now, how’s your eyesight?” McGonagall asked, her wand hovering over you. “Let’s test that first.”

However, it quickly becomes apparent to everyone that the potion worked as well as it could have.

“Alright dear, shifting back will be easier than the first transformation but most wizards sleep for days afterwards,” McGonagall smiled, her eyes beaming. “I slept for the entire weekend after my first shift. We should assume you will as well.”

With a few words of encouragement, your shift back is significantly smoother. You’re on two feet again and you feel as if you’d just been zapped with energy. You felt like you’d burst at any moment.

“How do you feel?” Sprout asked, her hands out in front of you - cautious.

“I feel great!” You said, your blood rushing through your ears. “I feel like I could run a marathon!”

“A what?” Sprout asked, her brows furrowing.

“Easy now,” McGonagall said, her hand coming to your elbow when you stumbled.

“Really,” you said, “I think I’ve got it.”

Just as you moved towards the window, the room spun and you felt your knees give out from under you.

/////

The next time you opened your eyes, you came face to face with bright red hair. You blinked and craned your head to see who was lying on your pillow. George sighed with your movement and tightened his grip on you. You smiled and pushed some of his hair back.

A soft cough brought your attention towards the corner of the room. Fred smiled, wariness in his eyes.

“Don’t get any ideas, I’m still in the room,” he said with a snort.

You rolled your eyes and groaned when the action caused the room to spin.

“Okay,” you said rubbing your eyes. “Note to self, don’t do that again.”

Fred huffed and you frowned.

“How’d I get here?”

Pulling your hand from your face, Fred shot you a look. “You could’ve warned us. George went mad, pacing around the living room and watching the door. When you didn’t come back after a few hours he was this close to calling mum.”

You shot him a panicked look.

“Don’t worry, I stopped him.” He sat down at the edge of the bed. “Imagine our shock when bloomin’ Sprout and McGonagall show up at our door with an unconscious badger.”

“I-I don’t know what to say,” you whispered.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Georgie here so worried before, didn’t think it was possible even,” he joked. You grimaced and he sighed. “McGonagall said not to tell anyone what’d happened to you.”

“Even though both of them refused to say what was going on, I never thought I’d ever want to hit a professor,” George said groggily, from beside you.

You turned to him, the skin under his eyes was dark and red, like he’d rubbed them for too long. “I’m sorry,” you said quietly.

“You’ve been asleep for two days. Sprout won’t answer any of our owls. McGonagall said to tell her if you didn’t wake up in time for term.”  

“Two days?” You hissed as you sat up, your back cracking with the movement.

“Easy now,” Fred said, his hand on your shoulder.

“What else did Sprout say?” You asked, your vision swimming.

George pointed to the table on your right where a vase of flowers sat. “She left you this.” There was a note at the base. You lifted it and ran your thumb over the words.  

I’ve never been more proud.

The bouquet was filled with daffodils, orange gladiolus, and irises. You smiled and brushed a finger over one of the petals. You knew they meant something and tried to remember.

Honesty, strength, and hope.

You took a deep breath and nodded. “If something goes wrong, you need to owl McGonagall. She’ll be able to help. You can’t tell anyone what I’m about to show you. I’m serious, you need to swear. You can’t tell Molly, Ron, Harry - no one.”

“Help with what?” Fred asked, incredulous. “What is going on?”

“Swear,” you insisted. You turned to George, his brows were furrowed but you grabbed his hands. “George, swear on my life – swear.”

Without hesitation, he nodded. “I swear. I promise.”

You turned to Fred and he sighed. “I swear badger, just – tell us what’s happening.”

With a small smile, you felt your skin start to itch, your stomach flipped, and there was no pain – only a faint ache. “I’ve got something to show you two – it’ll blow your pants off.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” Fred joked.

You rolled your eyes and let the pull in your chest take over. You shook your body out, the bed dipping with your added weight. You dug your snout into George’s neck and huffed when he jumped.

“Bloody hell.”

A/N: For this bit to work let’s pretend Fred and George have a dramatic exit earlier than both the movies and books indicate. Additionally, I'm not entirely sure how the animagus shift would take to learn and went by what I found on pottermore. Let's just look over it, shall we?

@yallgotkik​ @cutie-bug​ @anomynousauthor​ @awkwardnesshabitat​ @strangerliaa​ @vainsofroses​