Only You

Spoilers: *OOTP and HBP much later in story*

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Disclaimer: None of the characters nor the settings belong to me but are all the property of J. K. Rowling. I make no money from them.


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The next morning, Melody came down the stairs to find George and Fred perched on the back of a couple of common room chairs. She looked at them in surprise. “You’ve already had breakfast?” she asked.

“Naw, Mel, we thought we’d wait for you . . .” George said, winking at Fred.

“Why?” Melody asked in consternation. To her knowledge, the boys had never waited to enter the Great Hall for a meal in their lives. “Aren’t you hungry?”

Fred pressed a hand to his stomach and groaned, “I am so past hungry, I can’t even describe it. I think you’ll have to carry me . . .”

“Git!” George muttered loud enough for Fred to hear as he stood up. “We ought to leave you here . . .”

Melody laughed, albeit a bit uncertainly, and shrugged. She grabbed Fred by the arm and pulled him up. “Maybe you should throw him over your shoulder,” she said to George, teasing.

“Not a chance!” George answered, cuffing his brother on the head.

Fred yelped and pulled Melody closer. “Save me, Mel!” he cried dramatically.

Melody rolled her eyes. “Save yourself, coward!” she told him with a smile.

The three wandered down to the Great Hall, commenting on the people they saw and how they’d changed. They seated themselves and began eating. Melody looked over at the mountain of food on each twins plate, laughing, “How on earth are you going to eat all that?”

George looked up, abashed, but Fred, answered, “We’re growing boys, Mel.” Nodding at her bowl of porridge, he added, “Perhaps if you ate a little more, you’d be a little taller . . .” He ended with a yelp and a forkful of egg flew into the air. “You didn’t both have to kick me, you know! Get organized! Take turns, or something!” he complained.

“Awww, did we hurt the ickle Freddikins?” cooed George with fake concern.

“You didn’t, but she kicks harder than you!” Fred exclaimed, rubbing his shin.

“Well, next time I’ll try harder,” muttered George. He smiled at Melody and resumed eating.

As she ate her porridge slowly, Melody looked around the table at the new first years. “Remember any names?” she asked the twins.

“Oh yeah, you missed the Sorting last night, didn’t you?” George commented.

“Any good ones?” she asked.

“A few likely targets, I think,” grinned Fred mischievously.

Melody glared at him and set down her spoon. “Well, let me get to know them first. Make sure they won’t go into shock at the attention or something . . .” she said in exasperation. She stood up and headed down the table to the still slightly terrified looking first year clump that were all trying not to look at each other while they ate. “Timid lot this year,” she muttered to herself. She patted Ginny on the shoulder as she went by, winking, and then plopped herself down in the middle of the first years. “Morning, everybody!” she said brightly. “How was your first night?” She proceeded to coax and cajole the first years into conversation.

Meanwhile the twins continued eating, George keeping one eye on Melody. As the voices down the table got louder and more animated, Fred said, “So when do we start?”

George looked down the table at Melody, watching her smile as she listened to the first years chatter. “Not yet. Let’s get the year started and get settled in, first.”

Fred looked at him in disgust. “Are you serious? After planning all bloody summer, you want to wait?”

George flushed. “I’m not ready yet!” he said in a hiss.

Fred looked away, muttering, “When all is said and done, you’re going to look back and be angry that you wasted all this time waiting when you could have spent it with her . . .”

George laughed. “It’s not like I’m never with her now,” he pointed out.

“Not the same, brother mine. Not the same . . .” said Fred, shaking his head.

They had finished eating by the time Melody returned to her seat. “So?” asked Fred.

“Give them a few weeks to get used to the place,” she advised, picking up her spoon and looking at the congealed mess in her bowl. She put the spoon back and finished her pumpkin juice. “They’re mostly terrified still. One good prank might send them to Pomfrey in shock right now,” she added.

Percy handed George a stack of parchment. “Course schedules,” announced George, looking at the top one. He laid one by his plate and a second to Fred. Then he dug through the rest to find Melody’s. Glancing at it, he felt his stomach clench. Solemnly, he handed it over.

Fred took one look and cried, “Cor, girl, that schedule looks a fright!” Melody rolled her eyes and calmly looked it over. Reading over her shoulder, he added, “That puts you with Snape every bloody day of the week! What the bloody hell is ‘Advanced Tutoring’?” he asked.

Melody’s lip curled slightly. “Only way he’d agree to Dumbledore’s idea. He doesn’t think I can handle both classes at once so he set up a remediation period so he can reteach what he thinks I missed . . .” she said darkly.

George frowned and looked at Fred. “Alone? With Snape?” he questioned.

“Oh, I’ll survive. He loathes me slightly less than the average student. I should be grateful he’s willing to help, I suppose . . .” shrugged Melody.

Fred answered George’s look with a nod. He knew where they’d be on Friday evenings. Sitting guard right outside the Potions door.

Harry plopped down onto the bench next to George, and the conversation turned to Malfoy and the dementors. Melody smiled at Fred’s description of Malfoy in their compartment the day before, but privately she didn’t think she’d reacted much better. She’d nearly climbed straight through George, she’d burrowed so close, she thought. Harry’s attention drifted to Hermione and Ron, and Melody looked over her schedule again, planning how to get where she’d need to be. If she grouped classes that were closest in location, she could add a study period in the library during the second class. That might help with homework.

As she got up to head to her first Muggle Studies class, George reached out to her. “See you at lunch?” he asked softly.

Melody smiled and nodded.


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By Wednesday of the first week, Melody had decided that her schedule was nothing short of brutal. Any mention of Dumbledore’s name was likely to have her spitting electrical shocks so George and Fred wisely chose to refrain from teasing her, instead setting out to help her reorganize her time in such a way that would leave her slightly less frazzled. They used her original idea of grouping classes by location but also added in at least one study period a day and designated locations for that so she wouldn’t cross her own path, so to speak. On the way back to the dorm after her Potions remediation, during which the two of them had sat outside the door after announcing their intention in Snape’s hearing, they had shown her the way into the kitchens. They had talked to Dobby and arranged a place for Melody to get a quick snack on the days she would be using the common room to study during an off period. George had tried to get her to add extra time for sleeping since she would be essentially adding eight hours to her days, if not more, but she had brushed him off. He decided to give her some time before pressing the issue.

Melody had inquired about what they were doing in their own classes but had fallen asleep during the explanation, something she had never, ever done during a conversation about magical studies. Fred looked at George worriedly, muttering, “And we’re encouraging this?”

George had shushed him, settling Melody so that she was leaning against him, her head against his chest. “Get some parchment and a quill, will you?” he told him. The common room was quiet as it was late and most of the students had gone up to bed. Quietly, he and Fred discussed ideas they’d been playing with recently, Fred making notes on the parchment. Finally, Fred had yawned hugely and given up, going off to bed after ascertaining that George had no intention of moving until Mel did.

George was almost asleep himself when Melody woke, embarrassed that she had fallen asleep. He’d grinned at the color on her cheeks he could see even though the room was only lit by the fire. “Quite alright, Mel. Not a problem, at all . . .” he’d assured her. She had stammered a thanks and fled to the girls dormitory, horrified that she’d kept him pinned for so long while she slept and praying she hadn’t done something terrible like snore or drool.


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Thursday’s dinner was abuzz with talk about the third years’ Defense Against the Dark Arts class and their encounter with the boggart. Melody, however, said nothing about it and kept George and Fred’s attention with a conversation about their favorite topic, practical jokes, and the ideas she’d had recently during a History of Magic class. Fred had teased her about letting her attention wander even though there was rarely a student who didn’t drift off in that particular class thanks to Professor Binn’s style of delivery. Both boys noticed a number of furtive glances directed at George, usually followed by the sound of giggling. Every time it happened, Melody’s face flushed and her conversation got a little louder and more energetic. Finally, George had looked at Fred and winked. They had excused themselves from the table, grabbed Melody, and dragged her with them as they headed to the common room. Relieved to be leaving the table, Melody had gone along with them.

In the common room, the three had settled at a table to work on homework. After a bit, Fred asked casually, “You had your went to the third year Defense Against the Dark Arts class, today, didn’t you, Mel? Did you enjoy Lupin?”

Unexpectedly, Melody had blushed and tried to change the subject.

George looked at her shrewdly and asked, “So what was your DADA lesson about today, Mel? Fifth year is working on some of the harder counter-curses in order to prepare for OWLS. What did he do in third year?”

Melody had looked at him helplessly and blushed a brighter pink.

“Something you don’t want to talk about, Mel?” inquired Fred with a sugary false concern.

Melody nodded wordlessly.

“And doesn’t that just make us want to know even more?” Fred continued, drawing nearer.

George leaned forward too and asked, “Didn’t I hear something mentioned about a boggart at the dinner table?” He looked at Fred and sighed, “We had to have stuttering Quirrell our third year. We’re lucky we even know what a boggart is!” He turned back to Melody and frowned, trying to figure out why she wasn’t talking. She never kept things from them. Suddenly he had an inspiration. “Did you have trouble with it?” It was the only thing he could think of that she might not want to admit.

Melody nodded, looking at the table, her face bright red.

“Is that all?” Fred cried in disgust. “What, you finally proved your weren’t bloody perfect, and it bothers you too bad to tell us?”

Melody’s head jerked up. She stared at them a minute, her eyes starting to glisten. Then she abruptly stood, knocking over the chair, and ran up the stairs to the girls dormitory.

Astonished, the twins had stared after her a minute, not believing what they’d seen. They looked at each other in confusion before George finally jumped up to hurry after her. He’d no more than hit the fifth step, Fred right behind, when a loud klaxon began to wail and the stairs disappeared, flattening out. They both landed heavily on their hands and knees and slid back down to the common room where a crowd had gathered to laugh. Fred angrily pulled George up and stalked back to their table, slamming his book shut. “Damn staircase!” he griped.

George sat down in his chair, looking thoughtful. “Notice the attention we’ve been getting all evening?” he asked softly. “Let’s find out what it’s all about . . .” They put their heads down and pretended to study while they tried to overhear someone saying something interesting. Unfortunately, no one was near enough to understand easily, though they heard George’s name mentioned, followed by a burst of giggling. Finally, George got tired of it. “Come on . . .” he growled to Fred.

They stood up, scanned the room, spotted Ron, and, as one, walked over to grab their brother under the arms and haul him to an out of the way corner of the room.

“Alright, little brother. What’s going on?” George drawled.

Ron looked at them wildly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he cried, trying to wriggle free.

“Perhaps he’d like a dangle over the main hall banister,” threatened Fred. “Or out the window, that’s closer,” he added darkly.

Harry and Hermione had jumped up and followed them. George looked at them both, his eyes glinting. “What happened in your Dark Arts class today, Ron?” he growled. “What’s everybody finding so funny?”

Ron shook his head. “Nothing!” he cried.

Fred pinched him, hard. “Try again, little brother. Or we might not have a little brother in the future to bother with . . .”

George looked at his twin and grinned, saying to Ron, “Your class was studying the boggart, I believe is how the conversation begins, judging by what we’ve heard. So what happened?” His grip tightened on Ron’s arm.

Sure he was leaving bruises, Ron squeaked, “We just each took a turn with it!”

Hermione put her hands on her hips and snapped, “That’s not true. We didn’t all get a turn!” She glared at Harry.

George laughed. “I can just guess what ickle Ronnikins saw . . . Something with eight legs, perhaps?”

Fred leaned down to growl in Ron’s ear, “Perhaps you’d like to awaken with your bed covered in spiders?”

Ron paled, and sputtered, “You wouldn’t do that!”

“Try me, little brother,” threatened Fred. He grabbed his wand and held it up in front of Ron’s face. “Maybe a few right here . . .” He tapped Ron on the chest right by his face.

George asked in a soft voice, “So did Melody get a turn with the boggart?”

Ron nodded as he watched Fred’s wand slowly move to his nose. “Perhaps one right here . . .” Fred murmured, an evil light in his eye.

George went on, “And what she had trouble with it?” At Ron’s second quick nod, he added, “What did her boggart turn into?”

“No, Ron, you mustn’t!” cried Hermione loudly as Harry also made a weaker protest.

Fred pulled back his wand and started a spell. Ron shrieked and stammered, “You!”

George pulled back in surprise, and Fred’s arm dropped. Ron felt their grips slacken and he jerked himself away. “What?” George said, confused.

“Her bloody boggart turned into you!” Ron yelled angrily, rubbing his arms. “Your bloody body, right there on the floor, eyes open and staring . . . Gave me a right fright, it did!” He added viciously, “Now I wonder why!”

Fred gave a weak laugh. “Awww . . . Our ickle Ronnikins loves you, George!”

Ron growled and pushed Fred out of the way to stalk off. Harry followed. Hermione, however, stood her ground and said, “You won’t tease her, will you? It upset her very badly. She cried through the rest of class, even though she knew it wasn’t really you . . .”

George gave her a brilliant smile and said, “Don’t worry.”

Hermione decided she was very worried, particularly when Fred added, “Don’t tell her Ron ratted her out.” He smiled wickedly and moved so close his body was almost touching hers. “If I find out you’ve said something…” he let his words trail off.

George growled, “Don’t threaten the girl!” He pulled Fred away, and said, “Don’t worry, Granger. We’re not going to tease her or do anything horrible. This is good news . . .”

Hermione cocked her head to the side and looked at him shrewdly. “I’ll just bet it is,” she said softly.

George frowned at her. Finally, he said, “Come here, Granger. We have a job for you . . .” He waved to the couch and added, “Fred, go get Harry, Ron, and Ginny. And maybe Angelina and Katie. Yes, I think they’ll do nicely.” He grabbed Hermione’s arm and propelled her to the couch, winking at Fred.

“You mean you’re finally ready?” Fred asked.

“Yes, I’m finally ready,” George assured him, smiling.