Hey guys, this is my first fic so be nice! If it's really bad though,
constructive criticism would be much appreciated! Lol r xxx
Fred and George had been always inseparable. Always. And everyone had known it. As identical twins they had always been best mates and no-one had ever questioned that. They were what they were, implicitly. And being identical they possessed equally mischievous natures, something that made them legend at Hogwarts. But no-one had ever questioned that. They were what they were, implicitly. But life always throws in problems. To some people, they are easily resolved. But when the problem hits twins, moreover, twins of Fred and George's nature, they're not that easily resolved. At all. Remember that muggle song, 'sisters'? There's a line in it that fits this problem perfectly, 'lord help the mister, who comes between me and my sister, and lord help the sister who comes between my man and I'. Except reversing genders, obviously! This is the tale of a summer of hardships (and pranks obviously, I mean Fred and George wouldn't be Fred and George without pranks!).
It was a miserable day in Ottery St Catchpole. It may have been summer but it was also England. The rain poured down outside plunging everyone in the Weasley household into a dull and monotonous mood. Ron and Harry had wanted to go outside and play quidditch on the hill behind the house. Mrs Weasley had wanted to send everyone into the garden to de-gnome the garden (but she wasn't cruel and she didn't want to spend extra money on replenishing her stocks of Pepper-up potion). Mr Weasley was at work so it didn't particularly affect him, Percy was living in London, stuck up prick that he was. He was still on very rigid terms with his family. His pride had not succumbed to shelving when he realised he had been wrong about the whole 'Voldemort has returned' issue. Ginny had wanted to go into town to buy herself a new set of summer robes as the twins had now been giving her her weekly pocket money as they were the only ones who could afford it.
Fred and George did not, however, let the bad weather dampen their spirits. They planned to use the weather to their advantage. If everyone was inside, they were free subjects for trials. They had a couple of products still on the production line that needed testing for things like durability, safety, toxicity, etc. This particular morning they were testing-
'AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGH!! FRED! GEORGE! GET DOWN HERE IMMEDIATELY'
The twins grinned from the dark cupboard in which they were seeking refuge. Judging by the fact that their mother was still screaming at the top of her voice, their new range of fireworks weren't harmful. Fantastic! They had been working on these ones for ages. They were designed to pass straight through anything human or similar (eg. Crups) but to eliminate any pests the house/area may be harbouring. They looked good and they were handy. What more could you wa-
'Get out here NOW!'
They grimaced. Something must have gone wrong. Something usually did. Slowly, they opened the door to the cupboard and-
'Ah', said Fred.
'Sorry mum', George tried. Mrs Weasley wasn't having any of it. She didn't mind the occasional explosion from their room but practical testing was no place for the kitchen. Let alone a kitchen that was...
'It's pink', Fred commented.
'I like it', George offered. They could see Mrs Weasley top lip begin to curl.
'Oh, you do, do you?' The twins remained irresolute. To nod would probably prompt a veritable explosion from their mother. To shake their heads would probably bring about the same response.
'Fix it', Mrs Weasley snarled. The twins often marvelled at their mother. How could one person manage to be so lovely one minute and then turn to a near homicidal maniac the next? They figured they were usually safe if Harry was in the room, he always managed to make the former side of their mother emerge but at present he was in Ginny's room... 'talking' to her. They didn't really mind. He was a decent guy and their little sister deserved him. They were both besotted with one another and this also made Mrs Weasley happy. However, the chances of them emerging to help them out were slim to none.
'No problem mum', said George, and with a flick of his wand, the cabinets, the cooker and their mother's hair and robes returned to their normal colour.
'We'll just be...' tried Fred as the twins moved towards the staircase, but to no avail.
'Oh no you don't. You stay right there. We need to have a talk', a line used so many times on the twins that it hardly had the effect it used to. Now, it just brought a sigh or a groan or a hurried dash up to their room. Just as they were wondering how large the chances of survival would be if they tried the latter there was a soft knock on the kitchen door and a girl stepped through on the stone floor, dripping water from her sodden robes and hair.
'Hermione, darling! How lovely to see you!', Mrs Weasley dashed over to the door, her seeming rage disappearing as Ron and Harry's best friend whipped out her wand to dry herself and at the same time being caught in a bone crushing hug. Her hair covered her face as the twins heard a muffled,
'Hi Mrs Weasley'.
'Hermione, sweetie! How've you been? We've missed you so so so much!', George shrieked in an uncanny imitation of his mother and running over to Hermione, picking her off the floor in another bone crushing hug as Mrs Weasley let her go.
'Darling honey pie!', Fred followed his twin and the three of them fell over in a tangled and wet mess.
'Aaaaah! Fred, George! Geroff!'. Hermione sought to untangle herself from the mass of limbs spread out on the floor. As she stood up, struggling to regain her composure, she picked up her wand, muttered a spell and dried off instantly.
'Ah', she sighed. 'That's better'. She swept her hair off her face and looked up, just as the twins found their feet. 'Hi', she said. But there was no answer. The twins, the usually bouncy, chatty and confident stared into the face of their brother's best friend, temporarily dumbfounded. How could this be Hermione?
'Umm...'
'Err...'
'Come on sweetie. Let's get your bag upstairs and then we'll go and find those friends of yours. I declare, I hardly see them anymore, they've become quite recluse. How was your journey? This weather's perfectly horrible isn't it? Now you must be starving. As soon as we've got you upstairs we'll make some supper. What would you like? We have...'
The twins watched Mrs Weasley drag Hermione upstairs, chatting away endlessly.
'Ah', said Fred.
'Right', said George.
It was strange; they'd never really been at a loss for words before. And neither had they been awkward in one another's presence. This was going to be a little interesting...
Fred and George had been always inseparable. Always. And everyone had known it. As identical twins they had always been best mates and no-one had ever questioned that. They were what they were, implicitly. And being identical they possessed equally mischievous natures, something that made them legend at Hogwarts. But no-one had ever questioned that. They were what they were, implicitly. But life always throws in problems. To some people, they are easily resolved. But when the problem hits twins, moreover, twins of Fred and George's nature, they're not that easily resolved. At all. Remember that muggle song, 'sisters'? There's a line in it that fits this problem perfectly, 'lord help the mister, who comes between me and my sister, and lord help the sister who comes between my man and I'. Except reversing genders, obviously! This is the tale of a summer of hardships (and pranks obviously, I mean Fred and George wouldn't be Fred and George without pranks!).
It was a miserable day in Ottery St Catchpole. It may have been summer but it was also England. The rain poured down outside plunging everyone in the Weasley household into a dull and monotonous mood. Ron and Harry had wanted to go outside and play quidditch on the hill behind the house. Mrs Weasley had wanted to send everyone into the garden to de-gnome the garden (but she wasn't cruel and she didn't want to spend extra money on replenishing her stocks of Pepper-up potion). Mr Weasley was at work so it didn't particularly affect him, Percy was living in London, stuck up prick that he was. He was still on very rigid terms with his family. His pride had not succumbed to shelving when he realised he had been wrong about the whole 'Voldemort has returned' issue. Ginny had wanted to go into town to buy herself a new set of summer robes as the twins had now been giving her her weekly pocket money as they were the only ones who could afford it.
Fred and George did not, however, let the bad weather dampen their spirits. They planned to use the weather to their advantage. If everyone was inside, they were free subjects for trials. They had a couple of products still on the production line that needed testing for things like durability, safety, toxicity, etc. This particular morning they were testing-
'AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGH!! FRED! GEORGE! GET DOWN HERE IMMEDIATELY'
The twins grinned from the dark cupboard in which they were seeking refuge. Judging by the fact that their mother was still screaming at the top of her voice, their new range of fireworks weren't harmful. Fantastic! They had been working on these ones for ages. They were designed to pass straight through anything human or similar (eg. Crups) but to eliminate any pests the house/area may be harbouring. They looked good and they were handy. What more could you wa-
'Get out here NOW!'
They grimaced. Something must have gone wrong. Something usually did. Slowly, they opened the door to the cupboard and-
'Ah', said Fred.
'Sorry mum', George tried. Mrs Weasley wasn't having any of it. She didn't mind the occasional explosion from their room but practical testing was no place for the kitchen. Let alone a kitchen that was...
'It's pink', Fred commented.
'I like it', George offered. They could see Mrs Weasley top lip begin to curl.
'Oh, you do, do you?' The twins remained irresolute. To nod would probably prompt a veritable explosion from their mother. To shake their heads would probably bring about the same response.
'Fix it', Mrs Weasley snarled. The twins often marvelled at their mother. How could one person manage to be so lovely one minute and then turn to a near homicidal maniac the next? They figured they were usually safe if Harry was in the room, he always managed to make the former side of their mother emerge but at present he was in Ginny's room... 'talking' to her. They didn't really mind. He was a decent guy and their little sister deserved him. They were both besotted with one another and this also made Mrs Weasley happy. However, the chances of them emerging to help them out were slim to none.
'No problem mum', said George, and with a flick of his wand, the cabinets, the cooker and their mother's hair and robes returned to their normal colour.
'We'll just be...' tried Fred as the twins moved towards the staircase, but to no avail.
'Oh no you don't. You stay right there. We need to have a talk', a line used so many times on the twins that it hardly had the effect it used to. Now, it just brought a sigh or a groan or a hurried dash up to their room. Just as they were wondering how large the chances of survival would be if they tried the latter there was a soft knock on the kitchen door and a girl stepped through on the stone floor, dripping water from her sodden robes and hair.
'Hermione, darling! How lovely to see you!', Mrs Weasley dashed over to the door, her seeming rage disappearing as Ron and Harry's best friend whipped out her wand to dry herself and at the same time being caught in a bone crushing hug. Her hair covered her face as the twins heard a muffled,
'Hi Mrs Weasley'.
'Hermione, sweetie! How've you been? We've missed you so so so much!', George shrieked in an uncanny imitation of his mother and running over to Hermione, picking her off the floor in another bone crushing hug as Mrs Weasley let her go.
'Darling honey pie!', Fred followed his twin and the three of them fell over in a tangled and wet mess.
'Aaaaah! Fred, George! Geroff!'. Hermione sought to untangle herself from the mass of limbs spread out on the floor. As she stood up, struggling to regain her composure, she picked up her wand, muttered a spell and dried off instantly.
'Ah', she sighed. 'That's better'. She swept her hair off her face and looked up, just as the twins found their feet. 'Hi', she said. But there was no answer. The twins, the usually bouncy, chatty and confident stared into the face of their brother's best friend, temporarily dumbfounded. How could this be Hermione?
'Umm...'
'Err...'
'Come on sweetie. Let's get your bag upstairs and then we'll go and find those friends of yours. I declare, I hardly see them anymore, they've become quite recluse. How was your journey? This weather's perfectly horrible isn't it? Now you must be starving. As soon as we've got you upstairs we'll make some supper. What would you like? We have...'
The twins watched Mrs Weasley drag Hermione upstairs, chatting away endlessly.
'Ah', said Fred.
'Right', said George.
It was strange; they'd never really been at a loss for words before. And neither had they been awkward in one another's presence. This was going to be a little interesting...