It's Better If You Do

The twins took the scowl that had worked it’s way onto Bellamy’s face as a permanent feature and that she always looked so angry and disapproving. But it seemed when they mentioned Fleur, her Twiwizard tournament “glory”, and her connections with their older brother, her scowl grew even more ferocious. The tops of her cheeks and ears turned an angry pink color and a honey-colored fire blazed behind her eyes. She took in a deep breath of air, her lips pursing together so much they seemed to have disappeared off her face.

“Oh Fleur, perfect little Fleur,” she murmured grumpily under her breath, unaware that that the twins could hear every word, “insufferable, incomparable, perfect little Fleur who gets everything she wants.” Fred glanced to George and they both looked like they were keeping hysterical laughter subdued, less the small woman’s anger get turned to them. Obviously, Bellamy was not too fond of Fleur Delacour. “Stupid little bit-”A child roughly bumped Bellamy from behind, causing her to pitch forward and nearly fall over. However, she just made a bunch of noise, her heels thudding hollowly on the wooden floor as she tried to regain her balance. Bellamy spun around and glanced for the kid to give him a piece of her mind, but he was already gone. George let out a snicker, which caused the girl to spin and turn to the ginger twin with a glare.

“Does Fleur come here often?” Bellamy asked, her jaw clenching slightly around the blonde’s name. She could deal with the children, suffer the loud noises, and try to be civil to the ginger twins before her, but if Fleur came around every day, she’d have to seek employment elsewhere. Despite how primp and proper Fleur may have appeared, she was at the root of the joking Bellamy went through, despite the fact that Bellamy was older by a year.

“I don’t reckon I’ve ever seen Fleur come in here but once with Bill when we first opened, but I can’t recall any other time. Can you, George?”

“No, I can’t say I have.” George shook his head, noticing the pink color slowly fading from her cheeks and tips of her ears. Bellamy sighed heavily and glanced over to Rose before turning back to the twins.

“Well then, shall we get started, then? We’ve got much to cover and, though it’ll be overwhelming at first, I’m sure you two will be fluent in the language of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in no time,” Fred said with a nod

“Can we see where we’ll be staying first?” Bellamy asked, the scowl leaving her features for the moment and the twins looked a bit glad that she had been disarmed, if just for now. “I’d rather like to put my trunk away somewhere instead of having to lug it behind me.” George gave his twin a crooked grin and a chuckle before he stepped over to Bellamy’s trunk and lifted it with ease. It was actually quite a heavy trunk, but he wouldn’t dare let his troubles with the weight become apparent to his brother, let alone the two pretty girls before him.

“Where are your manners, Fred?” George asked before nodding over to Rose with a faltering grin as Bellamy's trunk nearly fell from his grasp. “Ask Rose here if she has anything you could carry to their room.”

The blush that had left Rose's cheeks just a few minutes before, returned with a vengeance. Fred seemed to be waiting patiently for her to answer, while George led Bellamy to a back room with a curtain in front of it, with him letting out the occasional 'Oof!' at how heavy her sister's trunk was. Bellamy loved shoes, and that was most of the weight, in the entirety of her trunk.

Rose gingerly took out an incredibly small object from her pocket, and displayed it to Fred. "I shrunk it. I don't like carrying my trunk anywhere, really. I offered to do it for Bellamy," she cast an anxious glance towards the backroom to make sure she was not overheard. "But she's a bit sore about her magic. She's an excellent potioneer, and the best at defensive spells, but at Beauxbatons it wasn't highly looked upon; Charms and Transfigurations were. That was one of the many things the girls, especially Fleur, gave her a hard time about. You saw how she is about Fleur. My sister is an exceptional person and for that girl to make her feel anything but is just a-"

Rose bit the inside of her cheek hard, her eyes blazing off into space. Fred was slightly shocked that so many words had come out of her mouth in such a short amount of time, but did not let on. These two sisters were not to be crossed with tempers, he thought ruefully. On one hand, the older sister was ferocious, but a short fuse. This girl's temper was a long fuse, and could probably withstand a lot of damage, until she finally blew up. She glanced back at him, then looked down a bit, embaressed, before smiling tenatively. "I am ever so sorry. My temper gets away with me. My sister is my bestfriend."

Fred smiled, the most sincere smile since they had been there, and nodded. "I understand completely," he paused, with an unfathomable look on his face, began again. "She is very lucky to have you."

Rose looked up, beaming, her blue eyes twinkling slightly. "Merci! Oh, I mean thank you."

"No problem... I'm sorry, I don't think you told me your name yet." Fred said in a slightly teasing tone.

"Rose. Rose Lefebvre." she said quietly, the smile still on her face.

"It suits you," was his simple reply, before he gestured towards the backroom. She nodded, and began walking in that direction, very conscious of him behind her. Stop that, she scolded herself, as her heart gave an extra loud thump. She'd never get over the anger towards her parents for not letting her be around boys. Her thoughts were diverted as she noticed a stand of card and rope tricks.

"It's muggle magic tricks. Our dad loves them, and we figured he couldn't be alone in the obsession." said Fred, with a fond smile.

"Your dad sounds fun." Rose said, thinking of her own father.

Fred nodded. "Oh, he is. Mum's a bit put out with it, but she lets him tinker all the same."

"You really love your family, don't you?" Rose asked, more musing to herself than anything.

He gave her a quick look, before pulling back the curtain and answering casually, "We're a close knit group. George and I have two younger siblings, Ron and Ginny, and three older brothers... It's never been lonely growing up. Now, up this staircase to the left is our flat. You and Bellamy will have our beds."

"Oh no!" Rose exclaimed, shaking her head. Already forgotten were her words she was going to say about his family. "We couldn't!"

"You can." said a voice muffled from the top of the stairs. "I didn't carry this trunk up here for nothing!"

Fred laughed, and called, "Too much for ya, Georgie? Maybe a real man should have carried it up there."

Rose let out a loud laugh, and Fred grinned at her, glad that she had a good sense of humor. George appeared to poke his head out of the doorway, and noticed Fred's empty hands. "A real man would not have made the lady carry her own things, Freddie."

Fred began to splutter and point out that she had no bags, but George's laughter was too loud. Embarassed, he turned back to Rose. "I would have carried it, you know."

While Fred and Rose stayed behind, taking an awfully long time just to ask about trunks in Bellamy’s opinion, she followed George, without so much as a glance around her. His back was bent at an uncomfortable angle and the tips of his ears were growing red with exertion. Bellamy grinned to herself, since George was walking in front of her as she did not know the way. He could have easily used magic to levitate the heavy trunk, or shrink it like Rose had done to hers, but he chose to carry it himself. It was such like a man to show of for women, even if it meant his back was nearly snapping in two.

He pushed aside a curtain and nodded his head into the room. Bellamy quickly hid her smile from George and walked into the room, glancing around at the stacks of orange-red boxes that lined the room. She heard George having a hard time with the trunk and turned around, biting her bottom lip to hide her smile from him.

“Up the stairs to the left,” George said in a strained voice as he shifted around the trunk in his arms, though they were beginning to feel more and more jelly-like the more he held the trunk. Bellamy gave him a short nod and walked over to the stairs and took them slowly; partially just to mind her step in her towering heels, but mostly to make George carry her trunk even longer. “What do you have in here?” He asked exasperatedly as he watched the petite girl glide gracefully up the stairs.

“Oh, the usual,” she began in a lofty voice, “bodies of ex-boyfriends, ex-employers, and the like to do experiments on.” She heard George scoff loudly behind her, his footsteps sounding even louder than hers as he tried to keep himself from falling backwards down the stairs. “I hope you don’t mind the smell,” she continued with the joke, glancing over her shoulder with a small grin before turning to the room. She stood to the side of the stairs, crossing her arms over her chest as her brow wrinkled in confusion. George, as quickly as he could, walked into the room and set the trunk down beside one of the two small beds in the room. It was a quaint looking room, yet felt warm and homelike. Knit blankets were draped over the beds as comforter and papers littered a desk that looked like it hadn’t been touched, or at least dusted, in weeks. There was a door just to the left of the stairs and Bellamy presumed it led to a kitchen or bathroom.

“What is it?” George asked once he regained a bit of his breath and saw the look on Bellamy’s face. She merely turned her eyes to his for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh. “I know it’s nothing like Beauxbatons…or even the Leaky Cauldron…but it works for us. It should work for you.” She shook her head, remaining silent, and pulled open the only door in the room, seeing that it indeed led to a bathroom. Closing the door quietly, she turned to George, wearing, not a scowl, but a rather concerned expression.

“It’s doesn’t work for me, but not because it’s not Beauxbatons or the Leaky Cauldron…I wouldn‘t go back to those places for all the gold galleons in the world,” she said softly, all hint of aggressiveness or even jest in her voice gone. George let out a tiny laugh at her anyway, but knew the conversation had taken a serious turn. “It’s small…even for two men as yourselves. The addition of me and my sister would cause conditions here to be cramped.”

“My brother and I will give up our beds for this evening…but I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” George said, staring intently at the little French woman before him.

“Apart from sleeping in one room, all together, I doubt things will work out,” she said, shaking her head. George let a grin curl his lips, as he was used to living in cramped conditions at the Burrow. “Besides, it’s not…proper,” she tacked on for emphasis, “you’re a complete stranger to me.”

“I think you’ll find that my brother and I are far from being proper,” George replied with a mischievous grin. He stepped over to her, the expression never leaving his face and his eyes glittering excitedly. “George Weasley, co-owner of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes,” he said boldly, holding his hand out for her to shake. Bellamy looked at him apprehensively, making no movement to reciprocate the greeting. “Just shake it. It’ll make us less of complete strangers this way,” he stage whispered. Heaving a sigh, Bellamy reached out and placed her much smaller hand in his and gave it a shake, squeezing harder than was necessary.

“Bellamy Lefebvre,” she said in an unenthusiastic voice.

“Enchanté, Bellamy Lefebvre,” George replied and she cut her eyes at him before her sister’s soft voice echoed up the staircases. “Oh no! We couldn’t!” George pulled away from Bellamy and glanced down the stairs, replying. Bellamy listened to the interaction between the brothers before sighing heavily and walking over to her trunk, pulling it open, and thumbing through her shoes to find her wand. She never kept it on her, because she never felt a need to use it in everyday life. George suddenly burst into laughter and she turned and looked at him over her shoulder before pulling out a large, brass telescope and placing it to the side, lest it get scratched and dinged up in the trunk. He turned and walked over to her, peering curiously into the contents. He suddenly stopped laughing and his eyes widened.

“Merlin’s beard! All you have is bloody shoes! No wonder I’ve got a crick in my back now!”

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you, Rosie?" Fred asked, laughing.

"Possibly. You'll have to see." she said boldly, before turning to walk up the stairs, hiding her blush. He didn't comment, and she was glad.

"I told you it was shoes," Rose whispered to Fred, grinning, as they heard George, 'Merlin's beard! All you have is bloody shoes! No wonder I've got crick in my back now!' They giggled quietly as they made their way up the stairs, and she appraised him with a growingly fond sense of comradery. They reached the top, and paused in the doorway, taking in the room. It was very nice, she thought. Size didn't make the quality, and this was a prime example. The room fit the twins well, from what she could tell of their personalities. They used what they had, and would probably never complain.

The blue and red knit blankets on either bed were obviously home made, and Rose pictured a very devoted mother taking the time out of her busy day for the twins. At the thought, Rose smiled. Opening the other door, she nodded when she saw that it was a bathroom. It was complete, then. Her approval was sincerely whole hearted, but what she saw from Bellamy's face she knew her sister wasn't completely satisfied with the small space. A small frown turned down the corners of her mouth, but she didn't say anything.

She made her way over to the bed with the red knit blanket, and set her tiny trunk on the bed. It dawned on her that her wand had been stowed away in Bellamy's trunk, but she made no effort to move. It was nice, listening to the twins talk with her sister. Of what they were talking about, she was not sure, but nice all the same. Her sister needed to have more fun, and be included, and she was sure these two boys would be the ones to do so.

Friends would be nice for her, especially such robust ones. Rose simply did not have many friends, because after a while, she realized that the friends she truly cared for, did not feel the same. It gave her a sadder look on people, but she tried to hide it.

Maybe this would work out with them, she thought. They seemed nice enough.

"Rose? Rose!"

"Hmmm?" she turned and looked at three staring at her, all with similar looks of amusement.

"We were deciding on shower arrangements," began George casually, a smirk on his face. "And since you're the youngest, you get last shower."

A pout immediately crossed over her face. "That's not fair."

George had been expecting this, it seemed. "Well, I guess you could share a shower with Fred, if you didn't want to be last."

The effect was instantaneous. Her jaw dropped, and her eyes widened alarmingly, causing the twins to fall over each other with laughter, though she missed Fred's punch that hit George directly in the stomach.

"Just, just-" George had to pause for the laughter was making his speech hard indeed, for tears were streaming down his cheeks as well- "joking."

Rose didn't know exactly what to say; she knew it was funny, but the thought was so new to her. She had been kept away from boys at all costs, and away from anything that would warp her mind, as her mother and father had put it. Bellamy had chastised them, but they wouldn't listen. Now she was out in the real world, facing things a little over her innocence. She gave a brief glance to her sister and saw her watching her, as well. She quickly looked back at the rowdy boys. "Your sense of humor is just hard at first. You're very blunt, you two."

"Ahhhh," George said, sitting on the bed beside Rose. He patted her knee, with a wink. "But it's all in the name of fun. Gets us to know each other better, eh, Bellamy?”