It was odd how, in the languid days following my move to the flat above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, everything seemed so simple. Life was how it should be: simple, easy, full of love and laughter. Pranks were set on each other in the name of business. We shared laughs over how excruciatingly awkward Mrs. Weasley made us all feel when she decided it was time to give George and me "the talk". Shelves were stocked and new items were produced and our family came together as the shop did. I even had my first full night's sleep in months; Fred, George and I fell asleep in a heap, me tucked firmly in between the two boys with my head on George's chest and an indeterminate tangle of arms wrapped around me, after a long day of inventing. In the morning, we regretted falling asleep on the hard floor of the shop, but it was worth it.

But, those times could not last. Sleep still came to me fitfully. Eventually, Hogwarts let out, and Fred retreated to a dark, grumpy place every time an owl came through the window. The letters were always from Angie, and they never seemed to bring him the words he wanted to hear. He would never talk about it, though, or at least not with me. If he shared his romantic troubles with George, I knew nothing about it. My mother and I eventually sat down in person to discuss my living situation, during which I threw a teacup at the wall while she told me the various ways he would leave me high and dry in the world, and ended with a big hug and some tears and the promise to write often. Because we were family, and that's what family does.

We all knew, though, that there were more serious issues lurking in the shadows than overbearing mothers and stumbling love lives. Digging through my trunk one day, the trunk from Hogwarts that I never fully unpacked with all the moving I'd been doing, I found that recipe. The one for the potion I made early in the year. The potion that could buy me a few minutes to get the truth out without anyone knowing. True, I didn't know if it actually worked; Professor Snape had a fondness for messing with my mind. But, I had to try. I fought the idea for days, but my mind refused to let it go until I finally gave in and decided to take action.

When I woke up in the wee hours of the morning, as was still customary despite the occasional restful night, I made no effort to keep quiet. Instead, I purposely stubbed my toe quite loudly, swore at the bedpost for getting in my way, and closed the door with nowhere near my normal amount of stealth. George was awake. He had to be. I put on enough water for two cups of tea and carefully emptied in the phial, pouring my potion brewed carefully during sleepless nights at Hogwarts into George's mug.

I had just emptied the last of it into the seeping tea when someone cleared their throat in the doorway. The sound played with my already shaking nerves so badly that I yelped and dropped the phial onto the floor; it shattered instantly, and I swore at it.

"Sorry!" George apologized instantly as I waved my hands so the glass flew into the bin. "Didn't mean to startle you. Sleeping potion?"

"Wha…oh." His trust made my stomach twist into a knot. "Something like that. Did I wake you up?"

He shrugged and pushed of the doorframe. "How's your foot?"

"Hurts." Not a lie. Thinking back, I probably didn't actually have to stub my toe to wake him up. That might have been a bit extreme. "I, erm, knew I was kind of loud. Tea?"

"Thanks," he smiled, taking the cup I motioned to. "This isn't the one with sleeping potion in it, right?"

"There's no sleeping potion in your tea," I assured him with a weak smile as we took our mugs to the table and sat down.

I looked around the kitchen of 93 Diagon Alley nervously, and George watched me carefully over the brim of his mug as he took a slow sip. That only made me shift more uncomfortably in my chair until he finally put the tea down and take my hands in his.

"Mel," he bore his eyes into mine, "what's wrong?"

Why did he have to ask that? He knew I had to answer him. He knew I could never keep things from him so long as he just asked about it. My lip quivered and I wished that I did not have to go through with this, but that would have been ridiculous. I had to tell him finally. He deserved to know. And, if things went well tonight, I would tell him for real. Probably. I gently pulled my hands from his.

"I need to tell you something."

"So I gathered," he nodded, leaning forward in his chair towards me. He took a quick sip of tea and put the mug back down. "You don't hide your nerves well. What is it?"

I took a deep breath and held it in. When I let it out, I felt no calmer, and I cursed my tried-and-true calming method for letting me down when I needed it most. "Things are wrong."

"How so?"

"This isn't…it's not easy for me to say, and it isn't going to any easier for you to hear. I've lied to you." George snorted like that was a ridiculous notion, but I could see the worry buried in his eyes. It was almost enough to stop me, but I was too invested to back out. "We've got it all backwards. You aren't…you aren't supposed to be with me. It's supposed to be you and Angie, y'know?" I looked aside so I didn't have to see the mixture confusion and absurdity on his face. "And Fred was…supposed to be…" This one was harder to say. It was painful to think of George with Angie, but it was impossible to imagine being with Fred the way I was with him. They weren't the same. "Fred was supposed to be with me."

"Where are you getting this from?" George attempted to laugh, but it just sounded choked. He was nervous, afraid of where the conversation was going, what made me bring it up, why I waited until the dead of night and could barely say the words. "This isn't one of your Feelings, is it?"

"No," I laughed bitterly. "Not really. Not that part. But it's…based off that."

"So, then, why are you worried about it? Nothing's wrong."

"It would just be easier for you. George," for this part, I had to look at him even though tears threatened to spill down my cheeks and I was swallowing around a lump in my throat, "there's going to be a war. Vol…" Despite everything I'd been through and knew I would go through, I still couldn't bring myself to say his name, "You-Know-Who is going to rise as high as he's ever been. Hogwarts is going to fall. The Death Eaters are going to hunt Harry down, and we'll have to protect him. I've just got all these…pieces of it in my head. Snape's going to be killed over the woman he loved, and…and Neville's going to be the bravest of us all, and…"

"Mel," George interrupted, cupping my chin in his hand to stop my rambling.

"Fred and I are going to die."

At first, I wasn't sure George heard me. He didn't move, didn't blink, didn't even change the look on his face. And then his hand fell from my chin. He leaned back in his chair, blinked rapidly, and ran his hands through his hair. He let out a huge, long, shaky sigh. As he studied my face, he bit his bottom lip and blinked fiercely to hold back the tears that I gave up and let roll down my face.

"Not at the same time…"

"Stop."

"George, I need to…"

"Mel, no," he insisted firmly. "I don't…I can't…" He looked to the side to hide that his eyes had that familiar shine to them.

"George, please," I begged, taking his hands in mine.

"No!" he shook his head and grasped my hands tightly. "I'm not listening to how you die, Mel. I can't do that. I can't listen…I can't lose you two. I can't…"

I leaned towards him to rest my forehead against his, and he instinctively rubbed his nose against mine. Things like that felt so natural and so damn right that I hated myself. I hated that I couldn't walk away. I hated that I couldn't say no to him. I hated what I would put him through.

"That's why everything's wrong. It would be so much easier if you were with Angie. If Fred and I were…"

"Stop," George pleaded, voice barely above a whisper.

"It's true," I insisted softly.

"So…what?" he pulled his head away from mine. "Are you leaving me? Is that why you're telling me this?"

I wished I was that strong. "No. No, I'm not leaving you. I can't walk away now. This would all be so much easier if I didn't love you, but I couldn't stop it."

"I love you, too. And I'm not going to leave you, either. I'll be with you right 'til the end, which won't be until we are wrinkled old prunes, because you are going to live. Now that I know, there's no wizard in the world that could stop me from protecting you."

I smiled at the certainty in his words, and my heart hurt. He had no idea.

"I have to ask, though," he continued, leaning back and taking another sip of tea, "how you know so much about…how it…happens. You don't normally get details."

"Yeah, well," I shrugged and watched him swallow his tea, "that hasn't changed. I don't Know any details. I just know there's a war coming, and I won't…see the end of it."

"How long have you known?"

"Since I first saw him."

"Harry?" he asked solemnly.

I nodded. "I Knew when I saw him get sorted that I would die protecting him."

"Yeah, okay, but that doesn't mean it's going to be any time soon. That could be decades away."

"It's not."

"Since when do you get time frames on these things? You've only ever gotten the…the slightest notion!" George exclaimed. I knew he was not upset with me, but it still hurt to see him lose his temper.

"Things have been stronger lately," I mumbled to my hands. "More coherent. I don't know why."

George frowned thoughtfully and brushed the hair out of my eyes. As upset as he was, he wouldn't take it out on me. "It's probably all the dark magic out there. It's upsetting the balance, throwing you off."

"Maybe," I agreed. I doubted it, but I didn't have enough time to tell him my theory. I didn't have time to explain that I thought my precognition was getting stronger because I loved him, that maybe finding my other half was helping me come into my full abilities.

It was only a theory, anyway.

George took one last sip of his tea. His face went blank for a second, and he frowned into the bottom of his cup. Then, he looked at me, his eyes widened in surprise, and he immediately started wiping the remaining tears from my face. "Mel? Mel, what's wrong? Why're you crying?"

I laughed as his hands flew clumsily over my face. "George. George!" I took his hands in mine and put them back on his lap. "I'm fine. I just…had a nightmare. Remember? It's all better now. Stubbed my toe, came down for some tea."

"Oh," he frowned again. "Y-yeah. Of course I remember that."

I forced a laugh, brushed the hair off of his forehead, and planted a kiss on the now exposed skin. "I love you, you stupid dunderhead. G'night." I could at least tell him that for real.

"I-I love you, too."

I left him to sit in the kitchen and took the stairs as quickly as I could to get away from George. I couldn't stay in the room with him anymore. I couldn't bear to remind myself that I'd just given the man I loved a memory potion so I could unload my secrets without him ever knowing.

When I got to my room, I left the lights out, curled under my blankets without changing my clothes, buried my face in my pillow, and let the tears fall silently so I could get them out before he made his way back upstairs.

How had I gone so wrong?

Thank you all SO much for reading and reviewing this story. It has been so much fun to write. I hope to have the sequel up within a few weeks, definitely by May. So, keep an eye out for it if you're interested. Mel's story isn't finished yet!