Darkness
had crept into all four corners of the room. It snuck in past the
old, torn, and partially stained curtains, and over the faded, worn
carpet, which was marked by mysterious burns and stains made darker in
the shadowy night. It swept over the piles of clutter on the
floor, brushed over the bookcases and haphazardly thrown clothes all
over the room.
It painted carefully over the barely-touched schoolbooks dumped in a corner and the well-worn research books full off odd potions and charms which were left open and scattered all over the room. It covered the piles of parchment stacked next to the research books, the mysterious packages wrapped up carefully and hidden under the beds, and over the two sleeping forms nestled on top of said beds.
The darkness did a quick rewind of its wide-shot, exploratory shot of the room, and the mysterious music that had accompanied it stopped playing.
It seemed the forms on the beds weren't quite asleep, after all.
"Fred?"
"Yeah?"
"You can't sleep either?"
"Nah."
"It's nearly midnight, you know."
"I know."
George rolled over on his side so he could look at his twin better. "Why can't you sleep?"
"Can't stop thinking about Percy."
"Me either. What a wanker, huh?"
"Yeah."
They were silent for a minute. Then Fred let out a sigh of frustration.
"What is it?" said George, though he had a pretty good feeling he already knew.
"I just--it's so bloody irritating!"
"I know."
"How could he do that to Mum?"
"All the jokes we pulled--"
"All the pranks--" Even when they were only talking to each other, they filled in each other's sentences.
"All the letters from Hogwarts--"
"Nothing was as bad is this!" Fred ended it at last.
"At least we never made Mum cry."
"Or Dad yell."
"I'd never seen him yell before."
"Not even that time we put a toad in his hat."
"Or the time we turned his hair green."
Fred cracked a smile. "That was good."
"Yeah."
"I just--" Fred started, then stopped. "What a PRAT!" He burst out.
"Yeah. And. Well."
"What? Cat got your tongue, George? Just let it out," Fred said, cracking a smile at his twin in an effort to keep things from getting too serious. They did have a reputation to maintain.
It was just the right thing to do to make his brother feel a little more comfortable. "We were always being compared to him, you know?"
"I know. 'Why can't you be more like Percy?'" Fred said in a perfect imitation of his mother.
"Percy was made Prefect, and Head Boy, where are your priorities?! All you two do is cause trouble!" George continued, picking up right where Fred left off.
"If you two would just apply yourselves, you could be just like him!"
"Perfect Percy," said George bitterly.
"Guess he wasn't so great after all."
"His priorities weren't all that wonderful, either."
"Try getting Mum to admit that."
"No need. She's probably wracking herself with guilt over it."
"Ah, well, more le-way for us, d'you think?" said Fred with a half smile, but George knew he wasn't serious.
"I doubt it," he said anyway. Then he flopped over on his back and made a frustrated sound. "What a PRAT!"
"You've said that already."
"No I didn't. You did."
"Did I?"
"Doesn't matter. No one can tell the difference anyway."
"Not even our own Mum," Fred said with only a little bitterness.
"Ah, well, that's mostly our fault," George replied with a grin.
"True."
"It's just - you know -" said George, determined to continue his train of thought, "All that rot about having to compete with dad's reputation--"
"And she complains about our joke shop--" Fred cut in.
"Yes, exactly - we never complained about the fact that our family has, you know, no money, just made our own plans, it's not like we can't fend for ourselves -"
"And yet, Percy's the Golden Boy."
"Well, not anymore."
"Guess he was the black sheep after all."
George snorted. "The Prodigal Son."
"He'll come back."
"And there'll be a huge party in his honor."
"What fun," said George dryly.
"It would be worth it though," Fred said, in an unusual lapse into seriousness.
"Yeah. If he can't see the truth in front of his own bloody face--"
"Stupid prat--"
"You've said that," Fred reminded him.
"So I have."
There was a short silence.
"So what are we going to do about it?" George said at last.
"Keep working on the joke shop. Make more stuff. Find a place. Make some money. Get out of Mum's hair. What more can we do?"
"I meant about Mum and Dad, you git."
"I know. So did I."
"What?"
"Look, George, the best thing we can do right now is not bring it up. We'll just leave it. The Prat will come around. What I want to know is, well..."
"You-Know-Who," George finished.
"Exactly."
They both sighed at once. "I'm so sick of them not telling us anything!" Fred burst out at last.
"What is this, Spill All Your Complaints Night?"
"Very funny."
"I know. I'm sick of it too."
"We should come up with something."
"To find out what they're telling each other."
They looked at each other. "Genius!" Fred exclaimed.
"It's brilliant!"
"Tomorrow."
"We'll start researching it."
"That we will, George."
"Absolutely corking, Fred."
"Think you can sleep now?"
"Yeah. Let's hope no one finds out we have long, deep philosophical discussions at night."
"Why do you think we have them at night, you git?"
"So that no one finds out," George said promptly.
"See? You are brighter than you seem."
"Shut up, Fred."
Fred yawned widely. "You know what? I think I will. G'night."
"G'night."
The Obligatory Notice that Informs the Reader that this is, in fact...
THE END.
A/N: Hey there! Long time, no write. Sorry bout the dry spell, I've been uninspired, except for a few quick flashes here and there (like this one). When I read Order of the Phoenix, I noticed some particular things about Fred and George's reaction to Percy, and I thought I might take a crack at trying to write a bit of it. Any lapses into whiny complaints are purely my voice. :)
If you're really interested in reading more of the drabble I write, check my LJ - the link is on my profile. I don't write that much, but I post there more than I do here. *shrug* Friend me at your own risk.
It painted carefully over the barely-touched schoolbooks dumped in a corner and the well-worn research books full off odd potions and charms which were left open and scattered all over the room. It covered the piles of parchment stacked next to the research books, the mysterious packages wrapped up carefully and hidden under the beds, and over the two sleeping forms nestled on top of said beds.
The darkness did a quick rewind of its wide-shot, exploratory shot of the room, and the mysterious music that had accompanied it stopped playing.
It seemed the forms on the beds weren't quite asleep, after all.
"Fred?"
"Yeah?"
"You can't sleep either?"
"Nah."
"It's nearly midnight, you know."
"I know."
George rolled over on his side so he could look at his twin better. "Why can't you sleep?"
"Can't stop thinking about Percy."
"Me either. What a wanker, huh?"
"Yeah."
They were silent for a minute. Then Fred let out a sigh of frustration.
"What is it?" said George, though he had a pretty good feeling he already knew.
"I just--it's so bloody irritating!"
"I know."
"How could he do that to Mum?"
"All the jokes we pulled--"
"All the pranks--" Even when they were only talking to each other, they filled in each other's sentences.
"All the letters from Hogwarts--"
"Nothing was as bad is this!" Fred ended it at last.
"At least we never made Mum cry."
"Or Dad yell."
"I'd never seen him yell before."
"Not even that time we put a toad in his hat."
"Or the time we turned his hair green."
Fred cracked a smile. "That was good."
"Yeah."
"I just--" Fred started, then stopped. "What a PRAT!" He burst out.
"Yeah. And. Well."
"What? Cat got your tongue, George? Just let it out," Fred said, cracking a smile at his twin in an effort to keep things from getting too serious. They did have a reputation to maintain.
It was just the right thing to do to make his brother feel a little more comfortable. "We were always being compared to him, you know?"
"I know. 'Why can't you be more like Percy?'" Fred said in a perfect imitation of his mother.
"Percy was made Prefect, and Head Boy, where are your priorities?! All you two do is cause trouble!" George continued, picking up right where Fred left off.
"If you two would just apply yourselves, you could be just like him!"
"Perfect Percy," said George bitterly.
"Guess he wasn't so great after all."
"His priorities weren't all that wonderful, either."
"Try getting Mum to admit that."
"No need. She's probably wracking herself with guilt over it."
"Ah, well, more le-way for us, d'you think?" said Fred with a half smile, but George knew he wasn't serious.
"I doubt it," he said anyway. Then he flopped over on his back and made a frustrated sound. "What a PRAT!"
"You've said that already."
"No I didn't. You did."
"Did I?"
"Doesn't matter. No one can tell the difference anyway."
"Not even our own Mum," Fred said with only a little bitterness.
"Ah, well, that's mostly our fault," George replied with a grin.
"True."
"It's just - you know -" said George, determined to continue his train of thought, "All that rot about having to compete with dad's reputation--"
"And she complains about our joke shop--" Fred cut in.
"Yes, exactly - we never complained about the fact that our family has, you know, no money, just made our own plans, it's not like we can't fend for ourselves -"
"And yet, Percy's the Golden Boy."
"Well, not anymore."
"Guess he was the black sheep after all."
George snorted. "The Prodigal Son."
"He'll come back."
"And there'll be a huge party in his honor."
"What fun," said George dryly.
"It would be worth it though," Fred said, in an unusual lapse into seriousness.
"Yeah. If he can't see the truth in front of his own bloody face--"
"Stupid prat--"
"You've said that," Fred reminded him.
"So I have."
There was a short silence.
"So what are we going to do about it?" George said at last.
"Keep working on the joke shop. Make more stuff. Find a place. Make some money. Get out of Mum's hair. What more can we do?"
"I meant about Mum and Dad, you git."
"I know. So did I."
"What?"
"Look, George, the best thing we can do right now is not bring it up. We'll just leave it. The Prat will come around. What I want to know is, well..."
"You-Know-Who," George finished.
"Exactly."
They both sighed at once. "I'm so sick of them not telling us anything!" Fred burst out at last.
"What is this, Spill All Your Complaints Night?"
"Very funny."
"I know. I'm sick of it too."
"We should come up with something."
"To find out what they're telling each other."
They looked at each other. "Genius!" Fred exclaimed.
"It's brilliant!"
"Tomorrow."
"We'll start researching it."
"That we will, George."
"Absolutely corking, Fred."
"Think you can sleep now?"
"Yeah. Let's hope no one finds out we have long, deep philosophical discussions at night."
"Why do you think we have them at night, you git?"
"So that no one finds out," George said promptly.
"See? You are brighter than you seem."
"Shut up, Fred."
Fred yawned widely. "You know what? I think I will. G'night."
"G'night."
The Obligatory Notice that Informs the Reader that this is, in fact...
THE END.
A/N: Hey there! Long time, no write. Sorry bout the dry spell, I've been uninspired, except for a few quick flashes here and there (like this one). When I read Order of the Phoenix, I noticed some particular things about Fred and George's reaction to Percy, and I thought I might take a crack at trying to write a bit of it. Any lapses into whiny complaints are purely my voice. :)
If you're really interested in reading more of the drabble I write, check my LJ - the link is on my profile. I don't write that much, but I post there more than I do here. *shrug* Friend me at your own risk.