I'd Draw You Smiling

May was nondescript, full of preparations for exams and almost nothing else. I spent the majority of my time holed up in the Gryffindor common room with my nose buried in school books, desperately determined to pass each exam with greater margins than those from the previous year. Mum and Dad didn’t understand any subjects other than muggle studies, but, needless to say, they had still been pretty brassed at my low scores.

Fred and George came and went frequently, trying to tear me away from my studies with tempting offers of strolls around the Hogwarts Grounds during the afternoons and trips to Hogsmeade on weekends. I accepted their invitations several times, enjoying the sun and the way the castle looked with the approaching summer. Small yellow flowers were blossoming in the ivy that crawled up an entire side of the building.

One such weekend in Hogsmeade came in June, almost a week before term ended. I left my books on a table by the common room fire and shucked my robes, opted instead for my "muggle attire", and joined Fred and George outside the portrait hole. Lee couldn’t be persuaded to leave his work; he remained in a far corner, almost completely hidden by his enormous towers of books and papers.

The three of us strolled out onto the lawn, a twin by either of my shoulders, our hair particularly orange in the bright sun. Filch eyed us with a type of loathing I'd never had the pleasure of experiencing before befriending Fred and George. They wore a permanent brand of "utmost trouble", and the caretaker reserved his cruelest manners for whenever they crossed paths. I, of course, received the same treatment simply because I was always with them. Though, honestly, I had never done anything horribly wrong while attending school. A bit of rowdy behavior, maybe, and some fireworks in the common room after Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup in my fifth year. But, other than that, my slate was clean.

"Wot you filthy boys got on yeh today, eh? Dungbombs? Fanged Frisbees? Come on, then, empty your pockets!" Filch said, holding his grubby hands out expectantly. The ugliest look I'd ever seen crossed his face, and I crossed my arms in disgust.

"Nothing today, Good Sir!" George grinned, turning the pockets of his trousers inside out.

"Just out for a stroll with the lovely lady!" Fred added, tugging my hair before turning his pockets out as well.

Filch snorted indignantly and turned away, his beady eyes half-closed in suspicious loathing. I passed through the gate separating Hogsmeade and the Hogwarts' Grounds before the Twins, then heard them rushing to catch up.

"He's vile." I said when they were beside me again, "Did you see how dirty his hands were?"

"Oh, don't be too hard on him," Fred wagged a finger, "Poor bloke's miserable enough without you ranking on him."

"Yes, well…" I trailed off, suddenly not caring. Hogsmeade had come into view with its gleaming storefronts and cobblestone streets. Three goblins and a dwarf stumbled from the doorway of The Three Broomsticks, knocking into a witch with emerald green robes and pointed satin boots. I grinned.

One thing about being a witch that I actually did enjoy: magical shopping and sightseeing. Ten years of my life had gone by without any sort of knowledge that places like Hogsmeade had even existed. I mourned all the times I'd spent muggle money in muggle shops, which were horribly mundane compared to those of the wizarding world.

While I mulled this over, Fred and George each took hold of one of my arms and directed me to Zonko's, a wizarding joke shop that would have put any of its muggle counterparts to absolute disgrace. There was no doubt in my mind that the Twins spent most of their pocket money here; the two of them always seemed to have an endless supply of Belching Powder and Nose-Biting Tea Cups hidden in the depths of their trunks and pockets. I'd been subject to these jokes enough times to make it tiresome.

I followed them willingly because I hadn't had a chance to get their birthday presents, yet, and knew that anything that didn't come from Zonko's wouldn’t be considered appropriate.

They hurried over to a display of screaming Yo-Yo's, marveling at the tiny, fanged mouths that let out a wail whenever the yo-yo was dropped. I roamed the aisles myself, looking for decent birthday presents and trying to keep out of their line of sight. I chose two packages of Hiccup Sweets (which I absolutely despised because I was usually the one who fell victim to the stupid things, but George had said his stash was getting low and they both found this gag particularly amusing), as well as a Grow Your Own Wart Kit, Frog Spawn Soap, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. Carrying them behind my back, I kept a weather eye out for Fred and George and made my way to the front counter to pay.

Carrying my purchases in two separate brown paper bags, each with a twin's name magically embossed across the front, I strolled out onto the street to wait. Hogwarts students were everywhere, none of them in robes but still recognizable by the way they shouted and carried on in a juvenile way that was incredibly familiar. I decided I liked the sound.

"Lacey!"

A voice called my name from somewhere down the street, unfamiliar enough to make me look toward it with a frown. Cedric Diggory held his arm up in greeting, and strolled quickly over, a large smile on his face.

"Lacey, hey!" He said, stopping a few feet in front of me.

"Hello, Cedric. Did you come over here just so I could ogle you again?" I grinned.

"Nah. I mean, you can ogle if you want, but that wasn't the reason I came over. I learned something in herbology the other day!" He looked so pleased with himself, I almost laughed.

"Yeah? What was it?"

"You can die if you hear the mandrake's scream without proper ear protection!"

"Brilliantly spotted." I said, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, "Did you find this out before or after I valiantly rescued you from the greenhouse floor?"

"After. And I thought you were joking, actually, when you said you saved my life."

"I was. You just passed out and Professor Sprout told me to make sure you weren't dead. I told you that, remember?"

"Oh," He looked slightly taken aback, and I was reminded of Moody's words that afternoon in his office: head full of sawdust…

"Don’t worry, Cedric. You can still owe me a lifetime of servitude, if you want," I stopped and thought for a minute, then decided to be uncharacteristically brash for the hell of it. "Or you can take me out sometime and we'll call it even."

Despite my bravado, I blushed profusely and looked down at my shoes. He probably thinks I'm an idiot, probably thinks I'm repulsive with my ginger hair and freckles. Goddamn, Lacey, that was a terrible idea. I -

"Well, I'm sort of seeing someone." Cedric said thoughtfully, glancing over his shoulder. Cho Chang was standing a few yards away, craning her neck to see into Madame Puddifoot's. I nodded, embarassed.

"Blast. Well, I guess we're even by default."

"Well, I mean, maybe we can still go out sometime." Cedric said. "Just, y'know, not right now. I'd still like to be friends, though."

"Yeah, okay. Sure." I said.

There was an awkward moment (for the creation of which I seem to have a certain aptitude) during which we just stood there, shuffling our feet. I coughed once and he mumbled something. I glanced around and he scratched the back of his neck.

"Right. Well, I'd better go." He finally said. "See you later?" he turned to leave.

I stuck my hand out and he grasped it in an awkwardly stiff handshake. I glimpsed Cho Chang over his shoulder. She stared at me rather icily, and I was tempted to throw myself at Cedric, just to see how she would react. I didn't.

"Sure. See you, Cedric." I turned and strode away, trying to salvage whatever scraps of my dignity were left. I was terrible with boys. Absolute rubbish.

I found myself back at Zonko's front door. Through the storefront window, I saw Fred and George standing together at the counter, arguing with the clerk over what looked like a Screaming Yo-Yo. I waited for a moment, still embarrassed but becoming too distracted by the cold to linger on it. It wasn't long before Fred and George shook hands with the shop clerk and made their way to the front door.

They came out, looking triumphant and clutching the yo-yo. Seeing my obvious curiosity, George looped the string around his finger and dropped it. Instead of screaming, it whined like a spoiled child on the verge of a meltdown. I shook my head.

"It's good, isn't it?" Fred laughed, reaching to take the toy from his brother.

"It's broken." I said plainly.

"Well, yeah. That's the reason we got it at half price." George said, talking to me like he thought I was daft.

"Well, it's infinitely more annoying than a scream." I said, "Now take me to The Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer. I've had an incident."

They chuckled but didn't ask me to elaborate. We strolled further down the street and into the tiny pub, which was already almost full to bursting with townspeople and students alike. We found a table with three stools pushed far back into a corner and sat. I pushed the paper bags beneath my chair, keeping the embossed names facing the wall. George left to get drinks and returned with three bottles filled with a frothy, gold liquid. (Another perk of being a witch, to be honest). I accepted the bottle and waited for him to sit down before I spoke.

I opened my mouth to tell them about my ridiculous encounter with Cedric, but Fred cut me off. He set his bottle down on the table and leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. He grinned devilishly.

"Oh, hell. What have I done now?" I sipped my butterbeer and glared back.

"Diggory?" The word came from George, not Fred. Fred only nodded.

"I sort of asked him to go out with me." I said in a rush. "He said no."

"That's really rich." Fred said, smiling wider.

"Diggory?" George said again. This time, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

"I sort of recall having had this conversation with Lee in the presence of several screaming mandrakes," I said, "and I sort of expected it from him. He would wish bodily harm on Cedric if it meant Harry would win the tournament. Come now, mates, I thought you were above that."

"You fancy him." They said together.

"Have you seen that boy? A face carved by angels!" I thought for a moment, "I mean, he isn't the most intelligent person I've ever met, but I think I could get past it." I sighed dreamily and put my chin in my hand.

They shook their heads and reached simultaneously for their drinks, obviously deciding it would be far better not to ask. I took the opportunity to change the subject.

"I got your birthday presents today." I said in a sing-song voice. Their eyes widened, "But you each have to compliment me before you get them. Genuine compliments, no horse shit. Come on, then. Out with it." I cupped my hand behind my right ear and took another sip of my butterbeer.

Fred sighed and seemed to search his mind for something suitable, then decided on "Lacey, you're not an ugly ginger." I stared at him, not moving to retrieve his gift from under my stool. He looked exasperated and hurried to explain himself.

"Well, I'm obviously not going to call you 'pretty', am I? It's like telling Ginny I think she's pretty," He wrinkled his nose.

"Why? I look nothing like Ginny!" I said.

"No, you idiot. I mean it'd be like telling my sister she's pretty. Honorary Weasley, remember?"

"And what does being a ginger have to do with anything?" I said, hotly.

"Everyone knows gingers are ugly. It's sort of a rule," He exchanged a glance with George and added smugly, "A rule that doesn't apply to me and George, that is." He grinned and held his hand out expectantly.

I sighed and reached down for his bag, then brought it to the table top.

"You're lucky, Fred. That was a pitiful excuse for a compliment, though I wholeheartedly believe that you did your best. Don't open it until George has his." I turned on my stool enough to be facing George, who also appeared deep in thought.

"Lacey, you're honestly the best dorm wife I've ever had."

"Two problems I have with that statement," I held up two fingers to demonstrate and spoke slowly, "First, you've never had another dorm wife so how would you know? Second, I'm not your bloody dorm wife, so it doesn’t really make any difference. Try again, please."

"Oh, Lacey," he replied, speaking equally as slow, "You waited up for us the night of our business meeting with Bagman. You pour our coffee in the morning, and you spend all your time with us, anyway. If we're not already married by laws of principle, we might as well be," he shrugged and looked thoughtful again before holding out his hands, "Now, where's my birthday present? My compliment was far better than Fred's, and you gave him his!"

"That's because I expected as much from him! You disappointed me this day, George Weasley." I said gravely, nonetheless reaching under the table for his bag. He grinned and took it from my hands, studying his embossed name.

"Fine, go on and open them," I said, pleased in spite of myself, "And if we're 'married', I want a bloody ring."

They tore through the brown paper and exclaimed happily when they saw what was inside. George looked at me with adoration when he saw the Hiccup Sweets.

"You do listen to me, after all!" he said, reaching over to thump me on the shoulder.

"Well," I sighed, "I suppose that's one way to say 'thank you'."