Fic: Five Times Fred and George Got Away With It
Title: Five Times Fred and George Got Away With It
Author: attilatehbun
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1000+
Contains: Fred and George. Really, that's all I need to say.
Characters/Pairings: Fred, George, Lee Jordan, wee!Ginny
A/N: redonthefly asked, and I complied. Admittedly far far later than I should have.
~*~
Five Times Fred and George Got Away With It
i.
They are seven and have a sister with a dollhouse and a lot of tears. Or rather, several pieces of dollhouse, hence the tears.
She's howling and just won't listen when they tell her that they really didn't mean it or shhhh shhh shhhhhhh or don't cry, gingin, want a sucker? and honest, it wasn't your toy we mean to 'splode and the tears just keep coming and soon their mum'll hear.
It's only a matter of time before it's Bed Without Supper and No Broomsticks For A Week and all for a harmless joke what went wrong.
They hug the sister with the tears and give her promises of a new dollhouse, a better one, just don't tell mum. But before they can get her quiet, there's a whoosh and a bang and the dollhouse is in one piece again.
And it's clean for the first time since mum brought it down from the attic, all shiny and new looking, and the sister with the tears isn't crying anymore. She's smiling and clapping her hands and yelling mummy mummy look.
Later that night, there's a special cake and everyone is cheering the sister with the new magic, and they're all so happy that no one seems to care how the dollhouse was broken in the first place.
ii.
They are eleven and have a bag of tricks stuffed way down in the bottom of their bags where Mum wouldn't see them, because if she did she'd have never let them take all that contraband off to Hogwarts. But she didn't find it, and they've got it, and they've just found a nice empty compartment and can't resist the chance to finally play a prank on someone who isn't family and can't get them grounded.
They sneak in and lay their traps, then hurry down the narrow corridor to see who they'll catch.
It's not long before a boy struggling with a huge trunk turns into the compartment. They cover their mouths with their hands and say shhh shh shhhh a lot, and it's all they can do not to howl in delight when they hear the sounds of their pranks going off.
The boy comes sputtering back out into the corridor, wiping something distinctly foul off his face, and catches sight of them.
Did you two do this? he asks.
They hem and hew for about thirty seconds as the boy just stares, feeling more uncomfortable all the while, until the boy's face breaks into a wide grin and he laughs.
Your faces, he says. That was wicked; I loved it.
They all three start laughing, and the boy's name is Lee, and they settle into a new compartment, one that doesn't stink, asking him what are his feelings about Dungbombs.
iii.
They are twelve and have wands, but they also have a note that says they aren't supposed to use them.
Right.
But they aren't quite brave enough, not yet, to give it a go in front of Mum, so they sneak out into the garden and through it, until they find a little grove with some nice rocks and trees and things to send flying about.
They flourish their wands and grin identical grins, and start to speak all their new spells. As the time passes and they grow surer, no older brothers overhearing their words, no younger brother trailing them with wide eyes and grabbing fingers, they start to love the theatricallity of it. Their gestures get broader, their words louder, their laughs less guarded and furtive.
But it is still the first time, the test to see how much Hogwarts really knows, so they stick with the spellbook for now. But they do start lobbing stones around like snowballs, and it's all fun and games until someone gets struck in the head with one the size of a chicken's egg. But even though he's bleeding, he's laughing, so it's no harm done.
When they go back to the house Mum fusses about the lump on the head, but they both they he/I tripped. And though she looks suspicious about that, she's not suspicious about anything else.
No letters from the school or from the Ministry arrive intoover their dinner, so before bed, they turn to each other and whisper. Next time let's make something.
iv.
They are seventeen and have nothing but their broomsticks and all the freedom in the world. The night is young and we're so beautiful they sing together, and despite what Mum will surely say about throwing away their education tsk tsk blah blah, they have never felt better.
Sure, they'd depleted most of their products, but they could always make more. They'd made it away clean, and that was what mattered.
That, and the large two-fingered salute they'd managed to deliver to the Umbridge hag. It was too bad they wouldn't be around to see her face when she discovered the scope of what they'd done. But Lee would fill them in later.
No, now there was nothing but sky in front of them, and maybe a little bit of hope left behind in those at the school.
v.
They are twenty and have an illegal wireless show that might get any of them killed at any moment. But, for once, this is more than a joke, this is something that needs doing.
Not that jokes don't need doing, because they certainly do, now more than ever, but.
So it's a joke and it means something and they have to keep doing it, regardless of themselves. It's important to remember that sometimes, times like now, when their alarms have gone off and Death Eaters will be here in a matter of moments so they'd better collect up their recording equipment and smash what they can't carry and move move move move move.
And they twist on the spot, together, Lee also turning in the corner of their eyes, as the door blasts inward. There is a glimpse of cloaks and hoods and and flash of green, then their whirling and thumping down in the middle of nowhere, safe again.
Lee is there, and they all catch each other's eyes and laugh, because what else is there to do? If they couldn't keep laughing they might not be able to do this anymore, and they can't have that.
Someone has to keep the world laughing.
~*~fin~*~
Author: attilatehbun
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1000+
Contains: Fred and George. Really, that's all I need to say.
Characters/Pairings: Fred, George, Lee Jordan, wee!Ginny
A/N: redonthefly asked, and I complied. Admittedly far far later than I should have.
~*~
Five Times Fred and George Got Away With It
i.
They are seven and have a sister with a dollhouse and a lot of tears. Or rather, several pieces of dollhouse, hence the tears.
She's howling and just won't listen when they tell her that they really didn't mean it or shhhh shhh shhhhhhh or don't cry, gingin, want a sucker? and honest, it wasn't your toy we mean to 'splode and the tears just keep coming and soon their mum'll hear.
It's only a matter of time before it's Bed Without Supper and No Broomsticks For A Week and all for a harmless joke what went wrong.
They hug the sister with the tears and give her promises of a new dollhouse, a better one, just don't tell mum. But before they can get her quiet, there's a whoosh and a bang and the dollhouse is in one piece again.
And it's clean for the first time since mum brought it down from the attic, all shiny and new looking, and the sister with the tears isn't crying anymore. She's smiling and clapping her hands and yelling mummy mummy look.
Later that night, there's a special cake and everyone is cheering the sister with the new magic, and they're all so happy that no one seems to care how the dollhouse was broken in the first place.
ii.
They are eleven and have a bag of tricks stuffed way down in the bottom of their bags where Mum wouldn't see them, because if she did she'd have never let them take all that contraband off to Hogwarts. But she didn't find it, and they've got it, and they've just found a nice empty compartment and can't resist the chance to finally play a prank on someone who isn't family and can't get them grounded.
They sneak in and lay their traps, then hurry down the narrow corridor to see who they'll catch.
It's not long before a boy struggling with a huge trunk turns into the compartment. They cover their mouths with their hands and say shhh shh shhhh a lot, and it's all they can do not to howl in delight when they hear the sounds of their pranks going off.
The boy comes sputtering back out into the corridor, wiping something distinctly foul off his face, and catches sight of them.
Did you two do this? he asks.
They hem and hew for about thirty seconds as the boy just stares, feeling more uncomfortable all the while, until the boy's face breaks into a wide grin and he laughs.
Your faces, he says. That was wicked; I loved it.
They all three start laughing, and the boy's name is Lee, and they settle into a new compartment, one that doesn't stink, asking him what are his feelings about Dungbombs.
iii.
They are twelve and have wands, but they also have a note that says they aren't supposed to use them.
Right.
But they aren't quite brave enough, not yet, to give it a go in front of Mum, so they sneak out into the garden and through it, until they find a little grove with some nice rocks and trees and things to send flying about.
They flourish their wands and grin identical grins, and start to speak all their new spells. As the time passes and they grow surer, no older brothers overhearing their words, no younger brother trailing them with wide eyes and grabbing fingers, they start to love the theatricallity of it. Their gestures get broader, their words louder, their laughs less guarded and furtive.
But it is still the first time, the test to see how much Hogwarts really knows, so they stick with the spellbook for now. But they do start lobbing stones around like snowballs, and it's all fun and games until someone gets struck in the head with one the size of a chicken's egg. But even though he's bleeding, he's laughing, so it's no harm done.
When they go back to the house Mum fusses about the lump on the head, but they both they he/I tripped. And though she looks suspicious about that, she's not suspicious about anything else.
No letters from the school or from the Ministry arrive intoover their dinner, so before bed, they turn to each other and whisper. Next time let's make something.
iv.
They are seventeen and have nothing but their broomsticks and all the freedom in the world. The night is young and we're so beautiful they sing together, and despite what Mum will surely say about throwing away their education tsk tsk blah blah, they have never felt better.
Sure, they'd depleted most of their products, but they could always make more. They'd made it away clean, and that was what mattered.
That, and the large two-fingered salute they'd managed to deliver to the Umbridge hag. It was too bad they wouldn't be around to see her face when she discovered the scope of what they'd done. But Lee would fill them in later.
No, now there was nothing but sky in front of them, and maybe a little bit of hope left behind in those at the school.
v.
They are twenty and have an illegal wireless show that might get any of them killed at any moment. But, for once, this is more than a joke, this is something that needs doing.
Not that jokes don't need doing, because they certainly do, now more than ever, but.
So it's a joke and it means something and they have to keep doing it, regardless of themselves. It's important to remember that sometimes, times like now, when their alarms have gone off and Death Eaters will be here in a matter of moments so they'd better collect up their recording equipment and smash what they can't carry and move move move move move.
And they twist on the spot, together, Lee also turning in the corner of their eyes, as the door blasts inward. There is a glimpse of cloaks and hoods and and flash of green, then their whirling and thumping down in the middle of nowhere, safe again.
Lee is there, and they all catch each other's eyes and laugh, because what else is there to do? If they couldn't keep laughing they might not be able to do this anymore, and they can't have that.
Someone has to keep the world laughing.
~*~fin~*~