Wonderful, wretched, wicked Weasleys
Aug. 25th, 2004 10:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thrihyrneWell, for the five of you who care about this WIP (and I swear, it will not be a WIP for many more weeks), I found my fingers tripping over the words this evening while writing on legal paper. I was overcome with the JKR-ness of the twins finishing each other's sentences. But only within this very particular context, and one that even [from the author's POV] irritates them when they do it. I've actually been working on the twinfic, and this evening, it was like the sensation I had when cleaning my bathtub when I first had the inkling to write from Eowyn's POV and about the Rohirrim and felt that they had things to say and they were absolutely knocking on my head to get out (that being 18 months ago).
Same thing for Fred and George, this evening. I know I haven't posted anything on "February" for the twinfic (and seeing as how they leave Hogwarts in April, I do realize that there isn't that much to happen, but given the fact that I have two divergent realities for them to fall into, both of which are very meaningful to me) in a few weeks, so I hope this will tide you over.
*cough*
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romamticalgirl*cough*
“Next step?”
George, fighting off boredom, was quizzing Towler on one of the more complicated potions that would probably come up on his roommate’s N.E.W.T.s. He suspected that Towel-head understood his continued interests in the possibilities involved in the subtle craft of potions-work, especially after the imperfect attempt with the instant swamp. He really wanted that to work, and Towler might have some insights that weren’t forthcoming to George.
“Add half a hermetic cup of deliquesce of nettle.” Towler paused. “Shite. While stirring counterclockise,” he rushed on.
“Deliquesce of nettle?” George squinted at the recipe.
“Oh! And the nettle has to have been soaking in the lygus for at least three full moons.”
The blonde looked very pleased with himself.
“What’s the point of this?”
“It’s a very particular potion, but after ten monitored doses, you’re rendered impervious to almost every jealousy curse there is.”
George nodded in appreciation. “’S’a lot of work, though.”
The door crashed open. “Gents, gents!” An enthusiastic voice bellowed from the doorway. “Wondered where you’d gone off to. Studying, on such a fine day?”
Fred and Lee were finally back from lunch. Towler scowled toward the window, looking at the seventeenth consecutive day of drizzle or rain. He turned back to Fred. “Just because you’ve given up on school doesn’t mean that all of us have that luxury, Weasley.”
“Ah, but just because I’ve given up on school doesn’t mean I don’t have the luxury of sitting around on my arse on a perfectly good Saturday. Coming with, or staying?”
“Where?” Towler eased further back into his bed, causing the top book in his stack of potions texts to teeter precipitously, then crash to the floor.
“Diagon Alley,” Lee replied, pulling off his robe and donning a navy peacoat, a Christmas present from his uncle.
“Brilliant. I’m off, as well,” George said as he jumped up and handed his roommate back the copy of Eye of Newt, Heart of Stone: Sir Alabaster’s Methods for Achieving Emotional Self-Preservation. He shrugged off his robe and found a decent cardigan and scarf. “You’re coming too, Lee?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” He grinned and fished out a scrap of parchment from his pants pocket. “Been waiting for you two to decide to venture forth so I can get a gander at this shop.”
“You’re still not on about that, are you?” Fred groaned, pulling an overcoat out of his trunk.
“Dare I ask?” Towler said, one eyebrow raised.
“Think about it. Jordan. Almost eighteen.” Fred paused for dramatic effect. “Horniest bloke I’ve ever met, honestly.”
“Next to you, that is,” George said cheerfully, enjoying renewed enthusiasm for the day.
“Oh. That kind of shop.” Towler smirked. “Bring me back something, so I won’t feel completely left out.” He chuckled as he returned his attentions to his parchment. “Wondered why the house elves were in here so bloody often, taking care of your bed. They must be tired of washing your sticky sheets.”
“Piss off!”
Towler dodged the projectile, which happened to be one of Lee’s shoes, as George buttoned up his own overcoat.
“Back in a bit, Towler. And thanks again for all of your dad’s help.”
He waved absently in reply.
***
“You thought I’d forgotten from last week, didn’t you?” Fred accused George as he and Lee surreptitiously made their way down two sets of stairs to the statue of Gregory the Smarmy.
“Well, it’s not like you’d said anything.”
A strategic wand tap and incantation later, the trio were making their way down the corridor that led into the Quidditch changing rooms into a ‘broken’ locker in a neglected corner of the room. From there it was a quick dash across the lawn to the Forbidden Forest where they regrouped, pulling their hoods down and shaking the rain off of their robes.
“Definitely need a repello charm today,” George said, casting the water-repelling charm on himself as Fred and Lee did the same.
“Where are we Apparating?” Lee asked, his mind obviously still on whatever was carried at Piadora’s Palace.
“Thought we’d start in Alleyway 8, near that shop Charlie’s mentioned a couple of times.”
“You up to it?” George asked, knowing Lee had barely passed his Apparation license, though he’d said he’d practised over the Christmas holidays, scaring his younger sisters half to death.
“Yes. Thank you, mum.” Lee looked disgusted.
“Right.”
There was a sequence of crack!ing sounds, then they reappeared in a narrow alley.
“Out of my way!” An exceptionally large and brutish wizard shoved past them, muttering about Apparating and that there ought to be laws.
George leaned over Fred’s shoulder at the piece of parchment Towler’s father had sent them. While Bracken Towler was an upper level manager in a potions lab, his niece, one of Kenneth’s oldest cousins, managed several properties in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. There were a very few going through transition in tenants, and he had written down their addresses for the twins.
“Here. Let’s look at this one.” George pointed at the top one on the list, 93 Diagon Alley. “It’s closest.”
“Sounds good.” Fred re-rolled the parchment and put it in his coat pocket.
They made their way up a few steps and were soon carried up the street in a throng of people, like sea-borne flotsam moving inexorably toward shore.
“Aren’t you a bit worried somebody will see us?” Lee asked. “We don’t exactly blend in or anything.”
“Who’s going to know?” George replied. “Everybody else is in stupid school. And we know Mum only does her shopping on Thursdays when it’s not as crowded.”
“There it is!” Fred said, pointing across the street. 93 Diagon Alley was currently a shoe repair shop, and it did look rather run-down. “Let’s go in and take a look ‘round.”
George tried to look at its potential. Tall windows that would have lots of space to showcase their joke products; it was in between a bookseller and a cooking supplies shop, so they’d probably get a lot of passers-by; hopefully since it was a shoe repair place the back area would be larger than many and they could convert it to a small lab for working on new products. He grinned.
***
An hour later they were at Gringott’s, signing what seemed like at least several dozen copies of the same form. Anastasia Towler had taken the floo network from her office as soon as they had contacted her, which was immediately after they had all but run from the store to the bank. It was perfect. They wanted to rent it immediately, though she insisted that the current occupant still had another month in his lease and they couldn’t begin occupancy until April First. At the earliest.
They were so excited they had reverted to a habit that annoyed most people, sometimes even themselves. They were talking over each other.
“On our bloody birthday!” Fred said, clenching the feathered tip of the quill in his teeth.
“Couldn’t be better-”
“And a room above, so we can move in as soon as-”
“Did you see the shops to the sides? We’ll have heaps of pedestrian traffic-”
“Monstrous windows. Did’you see all that shelving? We can-”
“Bill’n Charlie’ll be pissing themselves. Can’t you just see their faces?”
“Bloody hell. ‘S’all ruddy brilliant.”
The nearby goblins and banking patrons gave the twins and, by default, Lee and Anastasia, rather pointed, disapproving looks, which Fred and George promptly ignored.
“Fred! That area in back. That’s mine. I’ve got to get back to work on that idea about the fortune-telling frogs. I know they’re complicated, but-”
“Should we go ahead and sneak into the Burrow to get our stuff together, or will that be too bloody obvious? Bollocks. Mum’s bound to go to Headquarters-”
“I know how to make that permutation work. I just have to prod Hermione a bit about the Arithmancy bits, and then-”
“Have to let Ginny know. Don’t trust Ron further than the Common Room grate. Unless I’ve tossed him into the fireplace myself.”
“Fred. Fred! I’ve just figured out what’s missing from the swamp, I’ve got it!”
“So. Decoy? D’you think Gin will go along? Or should we just wait for a Thursday?”
“What?” they exclaimed at each other in unison.
A few seconds passed. Both hearts pulsed seven times, in time with each other, though their bodies were no longer nearly as identical as it appeared on the surface. Different experiences, different lives, merely shared much more intimately than most siblings. Both Beaters, but Fred was right-handed, George, left-handed. More time spent apart than people realised, even their family, even their best mate, staring at them and trying not to be embarrassed on their behalf. Lee still clutched to his parchment of unknown perversity.
“Sign here. Both of you.”
The normal, low-grade hubbub of magical folk began again to roar in George’s ear. He willed his hand to stop shaking as he signed his full name in binding ink to the parchment, a bit surprised that no blood was involved. He and Fred were going to be shop owners. Bloody fucking hell, praise Merlin and All Magical Folk. This was no idle passing dream. Thanks to Harry, No, not just Harry, you’ll say a word for Cedric, you ungrateful sod, they were really going to make Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes a reality. Despite not being Prefects. Despite every block in the road their Mum had imposed. Despite Percy, despite all unexpected impediments in the way. Even if Umbridge became Prime Imperial Ruler of Hogwarts with fucking Decree Number ‘Who Gives a Whizz,’ they would still have their shop, and there was nothing that any of them could do about it.
Just as he was blowing on the ink, he heard a disturbingly familiar voice behind him.
"Boys?"
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
who gives a whizz? lmao!
Date: 2004-08-26 04:04 am (UTC)BRILLIANT.
*whole heart shimmers from the shine of this grin*
*hearts* *hearts*
Date: 2004-08-26 04:23 am (UTC)Or maybe that's just another dream to happen. :P
My George/Fred stuff is really so pedestrian compared to your writing, but I'm glad that this tickled you. It's really as though I didn't write it- it was just there, waiting to be discovered.
I can't wait to write the next bit, when they're caught by either Arthur or Molly. Can't figure out which, but Molly's going to send dual Howlers, which will segue into Ron's birthday, which happens to be March 1st...
Oh, if only I had my head back from fictional characters. Maybe I'll find it while walking barefoot off the Isle of Lewis. I'll need to look for something extra special for you while up there, my kindred soul.
Re: *hearts* *hearts*
Date: 2004-08-26 04:30 am (UTC)Pedestrian? Girl, that's why I love it. You make Fred and George sound like... Fred and George. Your writing "walks around" and that's the best way to describe it I could think of!
*sigh* Makes me want them for my brothers, you know? And makes me WANT TO READ MORE!
:-D
...ooh, and I like the sound of 'kindred soul.' Muchly.
(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-26 02:01 pm (UTC)They made their way up a few steps and were soon carried up the street in a throng of people, like sea-borne flotsam moving inexorably toward shore.
nice image (though i must admit that the word flotsam always makes me think of pippin, but that isn't a bed thing [*wink*])
(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-27 09:43 am (UTC)[*facepalms*]
bed thing, bad thing...
Date: 2004-08-27 04:41 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2004-08-27 03:42 pm (UTC)I'm so glad!! :)
Date: 2004-08-27 04:42 pm (UTC)