[Fred doesn't even bother with drying his battle-torn clothes, merely slips his hands casually into his jacket. It's not as though having wet clothes is going to make him any colder, right? So he watches her instead, that ever constant state of aloofness about him, though he is watching that wand out of the corner of his eye. Merlin knows he'd rather stay in the fountain for the rest of eternity than face one of her hexes.]

Well, that goes without saying. Look who you're sharing genes with; I'm gorgeous as they come. But you were always the innocent, adorable sort of gorgeous. Now you've gone and made yourself all grown up and fancy.

[The words, they aren't making too much sense at the moment. Mostly because he's not even sure what he's trying to say - how d'you put your little sister's unexpected maturity into words without sounding mad? - but also because he's not sure there's any sort of explanation that won't be just as crazy. He's not even sure he really wants one. Following her out of the water, Fred kicks the water from his shoes.]

Ah, well. S'long as I haven't got to beat off a throng of waffling young men fainting in your wake, I suppose all's well.