I'd Draw You Smiling

The weeks absolutely crawled by while I waited for summer holiday. The Burrow was everything I wanted in a home. Mrs. Weasley was easily twice as attentive as my own mother. Not a single person was considered an "oddity", regardless of how deserving of the title they might've been (Charlie worked at a dragon reserve, Percy wrote essays about the thickness of cauldron bottoms, and Mr. Weasley collected spark plugs). Everything seemed right when I was at home with the Weasleys. I could even overlook the constant use of magic for every imaginable purpose - I'd never seen Mrs. Weasley without a wand in her hand - if it meant I could stay forever. Part of me knew I couldn't, though. If I was going to keep relations with my own family in good condition, magic just simply could not be part of the equation.

Sitting in the common room one night, about three weeks after the "Potions Incident" as it had come to be known, I thought about my adult life and its glorious lack of magic. My Defense Against the Dark Arts book was open in front of me, quite possibly the main cause of this train of thought. I had an essay due in the morning – twelve inches of parchment on the theory of the Cruciatus Curse – and I had only written the introduction. Professor Moody had concentrated on this curse for nearly a week now, kept growling things like "You have to mean it" and placing the curse on insects to demonstrate his point.

"When on earth does he think we're going to use this?" I muttered to George during class one day.

"Who knows? You've heard the rumors. That muggle geezer who died in the old Riddle house last summer," he prompted, leaning forward to get a better look at Moody's quivering spider, who had curled in on itself in agony, "I'm not sure that was a coincidence."

I only shrugged, leaning forward, too, with a morbid sort of curiosity. I'd heard stories about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named; about how terrible and murderous he was. I also knew that Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort as a baby, and that no one really knew what happened to him after that (Voldemort, not Harry). The thought of him returning loomed ominously in the back of my mind. I'd been too young and sheltered by my non-magical family to know what kind of havoc had happened thirteen years ago, and therefore had no idea what the world would be like if he came back.

"MISS JAMES AND MR. WEASLEY, I'LL NOT HAVE YOUR NONSENSE IN MY CLASSROOM!" Moody roared, shaking me from my thoughts. He was facing the chalkboard, his back turned to us, though it was obvious that his wild blue eye had swiveled in his skull and landed on George and me, talking quietly in the back of the room.

"Sorry, Professor." I muttered. George only grinned. Fred and Lee, who were seated at the table in front of ours, were both shaking with suppressed laughter.

My thoughts were brought back to the Gryffindor common room by the sound of people stumbling through the portrait hole. I glanced up to see Ron, Harry, and Hermione, all looking quite pensive. They sat on the overstuffed couch beside my chair, all staring into the fire. I closed my book on my half-finished essay and grinned at the three of them.

"Why so solemn?" I asked, and three pairs of eyes glanced over at me.

"Not solemn," Hermione sighed, tugging her fingers through her curly mess of hair, "Pensive."

"Ah?" I said, waiting for their explanation.

"I found out what the third task is going to be." Harry said. I raised my eyebrows in question.

"It's a maze," he said, looking troubled, "And it's supposed to be really tough. They didn’t tell us why, though."

"We're thinking maybe there'll be creatures in there, or curses that you have to fight off, or something." Ron chimed in, stretching his long legs toward the fire.

I didn't reply, but nodded and made a mental note to tell Lee and the Twins the next time I saw them. I glanced down at my watch, realizing I'd been alone for hours. Fred and George had said they would meet me in the common room after dinner, and dinner had been almost four hours earlier. I glanced around, noticing for the first time how heavily shadowed the corners were. It was pitch-black outside the window.

"Hey, Ron," I said and he glanced up, "Where are your brothers?"

"Dunno, do I? I haven’t seen them since dinner. I figured they were with you."

I nodded again and opened my book, grimacing at the streaks of ink smudged across my partially written essay. It would still take hours to write, and I had Defense Against the Dark Arts first hour the next morning. I thought longingly of the four-poster, red and gold bed upstairs in the girls' dormitory, but also of the hot toast, porridge, and eggs I would have to skip the next morning if I didn’t get to work. I sighed and reached into my bag for a new piece of parchment.

"What are you working on, Lacey?" Hermione asked kindly, obviously having observed my moment of despair.

"Oh, well, an essay for Moody," I said quickly, showing her the cover of my book. A thought struck me, suddenly, and I changed my tone. "Hermione, you wouldn't happen to know twelve inches worth of stuff about the Cruciatus theory, would you?"

She sighed and stood, pulling a chair up beside mine. Ron and Harry chuckled quietly.

"Only if you're not too busy, of course," I added hastily as she searched her robes for a quill.

"No, no, it's fine. How much have you got so far?"

I showed her my introduction, and she set to work clearing the smudges with her wand, then explaining the essay's subject to me with more detail than I think Moody could have. She only glanced through the book once. An hour later, I was clutching my completed essay and offering Hermione a lifetime of servitude as payment for her help.

"Seriously, Hermione, I can't thank you enough." I said, and she laughed.

"It was only an essay. And you wrote it! I just helped a bit."

"Yes, well. I'm really glad Krum rescued you from the lake. It would've been a bummer to lose a mind like yours." I carefully tucked my essay into a pocket of my bag, then carelessly tossed in my book, bottle of ink, and quills.

"Ah, thanks? I am, too?" She glanced around, obviously looking for help from Ron and Harry who had long since left the room and gone up to the boys' dorm.

"Well," she said, "I'm going to bed." Without waiting for me to respond, she turned and hurried up the stairs, her shadow stretching far across the wall before completely disappearing.

I was alone, sitting on a couch in the Gryffindor common room, waiting for my two best friends - who were God knew where - to return and entertain me. Gooseflesh rose on my arms and I kept thinking about Nearly Headless Nick showing up in the common room without warning. (To be honest, I was sort of terrified of him). I curled my feet onto the cushions behind me, rested my head on the overstuffed pillow against the arm of the chair, and promptly fell asleep dreaming about the Cruciatus Curse and Moody as a large, writhing spider with eight twitching blue eyes.

What felt like seconds later, there was a hand on my shoulder and someone saying my name.

"Lacey! Lacey, what are you doing down here? It's one o'clock in the morning! Lacey!"

I sat up with a start, fully aware what a mess my hair was and trying to hide the rather large spot of drool that had spread across my couch pillow.

"Whaa-?" I said, squinting into the dark common room. The fire was now only a pile of glowing embers in the grate. Fred and George grinned at me from their spots on the floor. Lee was there too, though I could only see the whites of his teeth and eyes shining from a chair across the room.

"Where have you been?" I hissed, running my hands through my hair.

"We said we'd see you after dinner!" George chuckled.

"Sure, a billion hours after dinner!"

"Well, sorry," Fred said, and I heard him stand and move toward my couch. I threw my legs out to prevent him from sitting. He simply pushed them aside and sprawled across the cushions, his own legs draped over mine. He sighed and continued, "We had a business arrangement to take care of."

I hadn't heard George stand and move closer. He dropped onto my stomach without warning. My breath left me in a great whoosh, and I beat my fists feebly against his arm in protest. He shifted his weight so that I could breathe again.

"What sort of business?" I gasped.

"The very worst sort," George chuckled.

"Purely criminal." Fred agreed and Lee laughed from across the room. I stared balefully in his direction.

"And Lee was in on it, but I was left out? You bastards!" My voice raised an octave toward the end of my sentence, and the three boys laughed even harder.

"This wasn't the sort of situation proper for young ladies," George said, then pointed his wand at the fireplace. A moment later, the flames were roaring again, and I was able to make out the three of them perfectly.

"Were you aware of Ludo Bagman's presence on the grounds today?" Fred said nonchalantly.

"Sure. He was probably here to tell the champions the final task," I said, "Oh, Lee! By the way, it's a maze."

"I know. I saw it." He replied. I crossed my arms, angry that I couldn’t even be the one to tell him.

"Come off it!" George said, pulling some of my hair to regain my attention. "Listen, do you remember us talking about making bets against Bagman at the Quidditch World Cup?"

"The one I wasn't invited to? Sure." I said, only halfheartedly bitter.

"Yeah!" Fred said excitedly, ignoring my complaint, "Well, he paid us our winnings in leprechaun gold."

"What?" I gasped, trying to sit up further, horrible attitude forgotten altogether.

"Yeah, well. We've been trying to get him to pay up for months, now. We caught word that he was at Hogwarts today and sort of, well, intercepted him on his way up from the Quidditch pitch." George said smugly, "He got pretty nasty. Told us we shouldn't have been gambling in the first place."

"Refused to pay us back." Fred snorted.

"And you find the situation amusing?" I said slowly, backtracking over the story to make sure I hadn't missed anything. Deciding I hadn't, I said, "I'd be pretty brassed."

"Well, we were." They said in unison before exchanging a glance and bursting into laughter. Lee grinned.

"Until we found out he had some bloody goblins after him for the same reason!" George howled, slapping his knee.

"He didn't!" I said, clapping a hand over my mouth. "What an idiot! I can't believe he didn't know any better. Blimey, goblins."

"So, you see, losing money is worth it! I'd love to see Bagman get his arse beat by our long-fingered friends." Fred concluded, placing his hands behind his head lazily.

"Ah." I chuckled, fighting back a yawn. The laughter died down and the four of us stared contentedly into the fire, each of our minds undoubtedly wandering upstairs to our beds.

"Lace." George said suddenly. I glanced up to see him smiling again. I raised my eyebrows and he said, "Were you down here waiting for us?"

"Of course not! Hermione was helping me with Moody's essay, and I fell asleep." I felt my cheeks turn red with my sudden blush.

"You were!" He said, grinning wider and narrowing his eyes.

"You were waiting up for us like a housewife!" Fred sat up, and I saw Lee pumping his fist.

"I'm not a bloody housewife!" I growled, pushing George off me and onto the floor. "I don't see any housecoats or curlers or snotty-nosed brats around here."

George grinned up at me and Lee chuckled from his arm chair. Fred patted one of my ankles. I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, right. You lot are snotty-nosed brats, I'd forgotten."

"Only for you, of course. We're perfectly respectable for everyone else." George said said, heaving himself into a sitting position without losing his smile.

"Not a housewife." I said firmly.

"How about a dorm wife?" Lee said.

"No!"

"Dorm wife," Fred said thoughtfully, reaching over to tug on my hair, "I like it. It's got a nice ring, don't you think?"

"Sod off," I said, standing and stretching. "Don’t expect me to darn your socks."

The three boys stood, too, and followed me over to where the dormitory staircases branched off of the common room. I stood on the bottom step of the girls' stairs, my hands on my hips. The three of them looked up at me with smiles on their faces. George pointed his wand over his shoulder at the fireplace, and the flames seemed to shrink in on themselves before disappearing entirely.

"No goodnight kisses, then?" He asked.

"Not on your life," I sighed, walking up a few more steps. I turned briefly to see him, Fred, and Lee each blowing me kisses before they turned, trooped up the stairs, and disappeared into the boys' dorm