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"If you look at it from a breaking the law perspective, it really wasn't our fault," George says, a cheerful expression on his face as he throws his arm over Harry's shoulders, guiding him to the back of the shop.

Harry leans into him despite himself, enjoying the warmth. The twins' affection has always been a little dazzling, all-encompassing, a little like stepping off a cliff and never exiting freefall. Even two years after the war and most of an auror education under his belt, Harry still has a soft spot for the Weasley twins. He's only glad that his relationship with Ginny was short-lived; Fred and George may think of him as an adoptive brother, but Harry's thoughts have never been so platonic.

Fred's head peeks out of the doorway, along with a matching grin. "And if you look at it from the perspective of it being the greatest magical innovation since the time of Merlin—then yes, we'll take all the credit for that."

"It's still soul magic," Harry grumbles with no heat to his words.

"The ministry cleared us of any wrongdoing and announced that it's entirely safe for the general population. You won't believe how much traffic we have here during the day. People from all over the world come to our little joke shop! It's free, of course, we've been very much told that we've got to keep it free—"

"—not that we wouldn't have done so out of the goodness of our hearts, Auror Potter," George adds, winking at him.

"—our entrepreneurial hearts rejoice enough when our new friends stick around to buy our pranks and employ our very skilled love division to find their other half. We also have a line of romance novels for customers to peruse," Fred finishes, adding his arm over George's atop Harry's shoulders. They probably look ridiculous, all three of them. With a flourish, Fred unveils the curtain. "And there it is, our miracle: the love chamber!"

Despite being struck by awe, Harry takes a moment to say, "Please tell me you don't really call it that."

"We created it."

"We get to call it what we please," Fred says. The please is a little close to Harry's ear. They're both too close for comfort, but Harry can't bring himself to duck out from under their arms. With a touch of curiosity, Harry glances at their wrists, but it seems they've both embraced a trend they started: covering their wrists with a red ribbon.

Harry takes a step forward and finds Fred and George's friendly embraces sliding off anyway. He misses them immediately. Part of why he'd requested to come in after hours was that even two years after the war, his celebrity status could be deafening, and he hadn't wanted the scrutiny that would come from everyone seeing him walk inside. The other part had been wanting to enjoy the presence of Fred and George for a few moments before finally giving up on the awkward, unnecessary crush he's developed. He blames the twins for it, of course. If not for the way they were so good to him at Hogwarts, always taking his mind off of his troubles or helping him through them as best as they could, and if not for the way they'd welcomed him into their shop after the war, ever excited to share new products with him or let him experiment with them, then Harry may not have fallen so deeply.

He steps closer to the table at the center of the room. The entire room is done up in shades of red. Fred and George had restrained themselves; this is not Gryffindor red, but the red of love and romance. The cauldron that Harry has heard so much about sits atop the table. Inside, the liquid is clear with the slightest tinge of pink.

"Harry," George says, suddenly sounding serious. He doesn't continue to speak until Harry looks back at him. "You have to know that this room is a prank-free area. We've never once fudged anyone's results, nor would we ever. All that the potion does is reveal the part of your soul that is bound to another—your soulmate. Or in some cases, soulmates."

Fred nods. "He's right. If you're not happy with your name, you can remove it just as easily. No one will ever have to know. This isn't a burden. You don't have to carry it if it feels like one."

"You're not instilling me with confidence," Harry says, looking between the two of them. "As long as it's not Voldemort's name, I'll be happy."

"It's not Voldemort's name," Fred assures him.

Harry gives him a questioning look. "How do you know?"

"Just try the potion," George says, elbowing Fred.

Harry puts it down to the twins' antics and faces the cauldron once again. The newspapers call it revolutionary; the ministry wants the potion for themselves. The whole world is going mad at the concept of a way to find out who your soulmate truly is. No guesswork, no strife. Or at least not of the same kind. It had been declared to be true by several sources. The Weasley twins would go down in history as the men who changed the magical world. When it comes to the effect it has on their kind, the Weasley twins' contribution may even outshine Harry's.

Swallowing his nervousness, Harry rolls up the sleeves of his robes and dips his hand into the cauldron. The potion is warm, but not hot.

"Your other wrist, too," says George. "In case of multiple soulmates."

Harry does as he's asked. Heart thumping in his chest, he lifts his hands out of the potion, wrists facing up. Whatever his soul is to show him, he'll face it head on. He's dealt with horcruxes. He can deal with names, even if they're terrible ones.

The thing is: they're not terrible by any stretch of the imagination. They're names Harry hadn't even dared to hope for. He hadn't considered himself to be so lucky as to have Fred Weasley on one wrist and George Weasley on the other. He faces the twins, who look at him with such hopeful expressions.

"You two knew already," Harry says, just to be sure. Fred and George must have had time to come to terms with the idea. Harry, he doesn't need that time.

"We test everything on ourselves first," George agrees. "Half the reason Fred and I waited so long to reveal it to the world was because we didn't think we could be so lucky."

"When we first created the potion, I thought it revealed the name I wanted, not the name I should have. When we realized that it wasn't wishful thinking, we had the potion tested by experts to make sure of it. We wanted you to believe us." Fred reaches out, then waits, as if not wanting to crowd Harry.

"I believe you," Harry says. He's breathless with joy. Soulmates. Him, Fred, and George. Harry steps forward, and into their arms, finding himself exactly where he should be. Their embrace is just as warm as it was in the past. His favorite twins, his. Harry feels desperately possessive of the words on his wrists. The whole world can know if it wants; all Harry wants is to be exactly where he is now.