Work Text:
The Best Laid Plans
George sat over a cauldron of powder blue liquid as Fred came bounding into the hidden passageway.
"George! I've gotten it! I swear I do!" Fred looked far too pleased with himself. "It needed a deferred Transfiguration Charm!"
George stood up. "Well let's see then. I'll try it." He took the container from Fred and removed what looked to be a sweet and tried the Canary Cream for what could be the hundredth time.
George expanded into a giant yellow bird, squawked and flapped, then molted back into himself a few minutes later and Fred beamed. "Let's get to work!"
Discarded Letter
Fred,
I forgot what your face looks like.
Oh shut the sodding hell up, I know it looks the same as mine, but it's different, yeah? We were so different. I needed you to live, mate, what the hell am I supposed to do on my own? What about the shop? Didn't you think about anyone but yourself?
I hate you. You're so stupid.
I don't know what you expect me to do with myself. I don't know what they expect me to do.
Where are you? It didn't hurt, did it? What if I want—
I miss you, prat.
Dragon Hide Gloves
"George, I am telling you it is bloody broken!" Fred grunted, tossing the oddly shaped purple object onto the counter.
"And I am telling you, Fred, that ten galleons says it's a glitch!" George produced another object that resembled a club. "It just needs some persuasion is all."
Fred's face wrinkled with amusement. "Alright brother, you're on. Now I can buy myself a new pair of gloves." He flexed his fingers.
"Ye o' little faith," George smirked, lowering the club unceremoniously onto the purple object, which began to whistle and shoot steam. "Ten galleons and your pride, if you please."
Dungbomb
George lay awake in his old bed, staring at the scorched hole in the ceiling he remembered so well.
"Get off my bed, git." George said, entering their bedroom. Fred was tossing something in the air and catching it, a wicked grin on his face. "Fred, don't you--"
The dungbomb hit the ceiling and Molly's booming voice roared through the Burrow, "George Fabian Weasley get down here!"
"I'm going to kill you."
"George, Mum wants you to come eat breakfast," came Ginny's unsteady voice at the door.
"Can you tell her I'm still sleeping?" He asked, wiping his eye quickly.
The Next Step
Angelina scowled as George paced through the living room, frantic worry in his eyes. "George, it's a little late to be fretting about this, I'm about to pop this bloody baby out!"
"Well we always said we'd get married at the same time! And kids... I feel like I'm betraying him, Ang."
"George, he wants you to be happy--and of course name your first child Fred. But still happy."
A lop-sided grin slid onto George's face and he turned to his wife. "And maybe little Fred will be as much a pain in the arse as Fred was."
"Oh Merlin..."
The Darkest of Hours
"Ginny! Where is..." George's words caught in his throat and slid back down into his lungs when she entered, Charlie alongside, who carried a limp mass that George needn't see the face of.
George slowly fell to the floor, unfathomable sensations ripping through his body. He began to cough and eventually throw up all over his robes.
And then day turned night and he could no longer remember who he was, why he was living, and why he suddenly felt that half of himself had ripped away into the black--up and away never to be seen, heard, or felt again.
Of One Mind
Fred and George sat stiffly, looking at each other intently as though having a staring contest, but suddenly they both burst with laughter.
Ron grumbled, obviously annoyed. "Would you two stop doing that, it's bloody creepy."
Fred smirked widely. "What is the matter, Ronniekins, do you think we are making filthy jokes about you and Lavender?"
"No," Ron scowled, though his voice was weak.
"Well you should be, because we are," George clapped Ron on the shoulder and the twins laughed aloud again as they got up and left the living room.
"Mum! Fred and George are doing it again!"
Sleeping Unwell
George thrashed back and forth until his head slammed against something hard and he was startled awake. "WHAT THE BLOODY FUCKING HELL?" When he got his wits about him, he realised that he had fallen out of his bed while sleeping.
"Ruddy beds... too damn small... I'll never hear the end..." George was mumbling but soon another red head bent down next to him.
"Dream you were snogging Millicent Bulstrode again?" Fred smirked until a hand smacked him on the face. "Violence? Obviously you were having fun--"
"SHUT UP, FRED!"
George never did tell Fred what happened in his nightmare.
Trouble Comes in Pairs
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE ARE TWO OF THEM?" Molly screamed so loud that the healers two floors down heard her exasperation.
Her healer shivered under the stare of Mrs. Weasley. "Well the detection spell shows that there are two heartbeats, not one. You're having twins Mrs. Weasley." She left the room and Molly turned on Arthur.
"Arthur, what did you do to me?"
He grinned, the last thing Molly wanted to see. He placed his hand on her stomach and smiled gently. "Think about it Molly-we can name them after Gideon and Fabian."
Molly couldn't help but smile too.
Business Advancements
"Where is Snape at?" George asked, pushing aside a cauldron and grabbing a glass bottle with a strange looking powder inside.
"Still in Dumbledore's office," Fred said pointing at the Marauder's Map. "We still have some time. Did you find any doxy eggs?"
"He doesn't have any. We'll have to wait." George stopped suddenly just as Fred's face perked up. They looked at each other and nodded. "Peeves. Let's go," they both said at the same time.
They slithered along the wall outside just as Peeve's entered the office. "Brilliant," Fred grinned and George punched his arm with a smirk.