fic for paradise_loved: Playing the Game (Seamus, Fred, George, PG-13)
Title: Playing the Game
Recipient: paradise_loved
Rating: PG-13
Character(s): Seamus, Fred and George
Author's Notes: Much thanks to kerosinkanister for the speedy beta job! Setting: Chapter 19, Elf Tails, HBP. The Quidditch game against Hufflepuff.
--
Seamus couldn't help but laugh as he listened to the pre-game commentary. Luna was priceless. Whoever allowed her into the commentators box had clearly knocked back a few. He'd always suspected there was more to McGonagall than meets the eye.
"Oh, how clever," she said vaguely. "Some of the Chasers have disappeared. Professor, do you seen Dean and Ginny anywhere? No? Oh well, perhaps they're strategizing. Shouldn't Delores be with them, though?" There was a scuffling sort of noise. "Oh, I'm sorry. Demelza. Not Dolores. Dolores was that awful ministry woman, wasn't she? I didn't like her very much."
Seamus decided to ignore Dean's disappointing lack of dedication to the game and cheer along with the rest of the school. Thank God that Umbridge toad had only lasted a year.
--
Elsewhere, the reaction was slightly different.
"Let me go," Fred hissed. "I need to speak with Dean."
George gave up all pretenses of a brotherly hug and sat on Fred's lap. "No. Wait 'til after the game."
"Gerrofme, you prat. That's our sister she's talking about."
"And that's our House he's playing for. You're a bloody idiot if you think I'm letting you anywhere near him just before a game."
Fred took a deep breath. "Fine," he spat. "Fine, let them talk about her like that. She's your charge."
"Oh yes, because you've done a wonderful job with Ron," George drawled. "Really, just great. He's in the hospital right now, you do know that right?"
"That is so far from being my fault that even Mum doesn't blame me. And will you please get off me? People are starting to stare."
George shrugged. No one would recognize them anyway, not without the magenta robes or the red hair. He rather liked their Quidditch disguises and thought he looked quite dashing as a blonde, if he did say so himself. The barista in Hogsmeade had certainly thought so.
"You're still sitting one me," Fred pointed out coolly.
"I don't think its fair to bring up that up, anyway," George said softly, almost to himself. "Mum started up the charge thing ages and ages ago. Before Hogwarts, even."
"I know. Stop beating yourself up about her first year. And do it somewhere that's not my lap, alright?"
"Promise me you won't threaten Dean until after the match?"
"Twin's honor."
"Thank you." George clamored off his brother and sat beside him with as much dignity as a blond Weasley could after molesting his brother.
Fred ran his fingers through his hair and grimaced. "When did they get so old?"
"Wish I knew." George sighed, but pulled himself together. This was Quidditch, after all. "Is my charm still holding up? Hair as blond as ever?"
"Yes, and it's still weird. I don't know why I let you talk me into this."
"Because I swear to God, Fred, I'm going to hex the nose right off the next girl to ask me for a love potion."
"You're just upset they all want to use it on Harry instead of you," he sniggered.
"Bite your tongue."
Luna's voice drifted across the stadium. "Oh, look. Harry is here. Goodness, he's out of breath. He was out of breath before the second task, as well. Perhaps we should all pitch in for an alarm clock. We can't have the Chosen One late for-why are you making that face, Professor? The whole team is here now."
George didn't know if he should laugh or cry. Fred seemed inclined to do both.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," a voice behind them muttered. "You're Fred and George, aren't you?"
--
By the time the match was over, Seamus had reacquainted himself with the business end of the Fred's wand, had impressed them with his expansive vocabulary (he could swear fluently in no less than seven languages) and had even managed to worm his way into their good graces. It wasn't long before he had moved up to sit with them. Cheering on the House with the twins was something worth remembering.
If he'd been in a thoughtful sort of mood Seamus would've marveled at the fact that he was hanging out with the twins and actually enjoying himself. Back when they'd still been in school he'd always found Fred and George a bit intimidating. Mean, too. Seamus didn't like pranks. He felt there was something underhanded about pranking his friends and it was much more satisfying to simply punch his enemies.
So it was downright odd, frankly, that he soon found himself working with the twins on a highly intricate and wholly underhanded prank for the lumbering oaf called McLaggen.
After quickly checking that Harry had survived yet another should-be-fatal injury, the three of them ducked into the Room of Requirement to work out a plan. The rest of the team, George had reasoned, would be too angry and distraught to properly punish the idiot, and so matters had to be taken into their own hands.
"It will be," Fred had proclaimed grandly, "a call to arms-a sign of greatness-a tribute to Quidditch!"
"It will be," George had reminded him pointedly, "very, very gross and very, very mean. Now shut up and think of a something."
That was nearly an hour ago.
Seamus was starting to understand why the twins weren't known for their high marks. Planning out a serious prank took a frighteningly long time. Luckily, the twins seemed to be on good terms with a house elf called Liddy and they had more than enough food to sustain them during their arduous attempt to ruin Cormac McLaggen.
"I still think we should start with something simple," Fred muttered. "Doxy eggs in his food is always classic."
"He ate a pound of them last year and still won't shut up about it," Seamus said. "Giving him more would only give him more reason to brag."
"Damn."
"Look, let's just go with Plan 3," George said. "It's simple but it's humiliating."
"I do like that it's in the Great Hall," Fred agreed.
Seamus considered it. "Alright," he finally said. "But only if I'm reimbursed for my troubles."
"I'm sorry, did he just say he wants to be reimbursed?"
George nodded sadly. "Aye, he did. And he showed so much promise."
"He could have followed in our footsteps."
"We have so much to teach."
"So much to offer."
"And yet he rejects us so cruelly."
Seamus had to use four of his seven languages to quiet them. "Thanks you," he said once they'd stopped. "It's not a difficult concept. I'm the one risking expulsion, so you're the ones paying me."
Silence.
"Five percent off your next visit to the shop," George finally said.
"And we'll throw in a Puking Pastille."
"Deal. Now if you'll just get me the Harrowing Hangover Hurl, we should be set. I've already got the music and the costume so that should be everything."
"Trust the Irish to have a costume at the ready," Fred muttered.
"You really want to go there?" Seamus asked. "Because I've seen what you wear to work."
George clutched his heart. "It wounds us, comrade, to hear such things. I'm taking back the Puking Pastille."
"Then I'm afraid I left my costume at home."
Fred grinned. "Clever little bugger, aren't you? Fine, we'll keep the plan as is."
They shook on it. Liddy provided some refreshments, and they sealed the deal in the manner any young males would: with a strong toast and hearty drink.
--
Cormac McLaggen never saw it coming. Unfortunately, neither did the third years who happened to cross his path. Seamus felt bad for the girls-the contents of an oaf's stomach should never touch the innocent-and arranged for them to receive some free Daydream Charms in return for their troubles.
It was in the days that followed, when he was lording over his short-lived fan club, that Seamus began to understand just why the twins had chosen the pranking lifestyle. Though there was less punching of deserving enemies, the fawning adoration more than made up for it.
Recipient: paradise_loved
Rating: PG-13
Character(s): Seamus, Fred and George
Author's Notes: Much thanks to kerosinkanister for the speedy beta job! Setting: Chapter 19, Elf Tails, HBP. The Quidditch game against Hufflepuff.
--
Seamus couldn't help but laugh as he listened to the pre-game commentary. Luna was priceless. Whoever allowed her into the commentators box had clearly knocked back a few. He'd always suspected there was more to McGonagall than meets the eye.
"Oh, how clever," she said vaguely. "Some of the Chasers have disappeared. Professor, do you seen Dean and Ginny anywhere? No? Oh well, perhaps they're strategizing. Shouldn't Delores be with them, though?" There was a scuffling sort of noise. "Oh, I'm sorry. Demelza. Not Dolores. Dolores was that awful ministry woman, wasn't she? I didn't like her very much."
Seamus decided to ignore Dean's disappointing lack of dedication to the game and cheer along with the rest of the school. Thank God that Umbridge toad had only lasted a year.
--
Elsewhere, the reaction was slightly different.
"Let me go," Fred hissed. "I need to speak with Dean."
George gave up all pretenses of a brotherly hug and sat on Fred's lap. "No. Wait 'til after the game."
"Gerrofme, you prat. That's our sister she's talking about."
"And that's our House he's playing for. You're a bloody idiot if you think I'm letting you anywhere near him just before a game."
Fred took a deep breath. "Fine," he spat. "Fine, let them talk about her like that. She's your charge."
"Oh yes, because you've done a wonderful job with Ron," George drawled. "Really, just great. He's in the hospital right now, you do know that right?"
"That is so far from being my fault that even Mum doesn't blame me. And will you please get off me? People are starting to stare."
George shrugged. No one would recognize them anyway, not without the magenta robes or the red hair. He rather liked their Quidditch disguises and thought he looked quite dashing as a blonde, if he did say so himself. The barista in Hogsmeade had certainly thought so.
"You're still sitting one me," Fred pointed out coolly.
"I don't think its fair to bring up that up, anyway," George said softly, almost to himself. "Mum started up the charge thing ages and ages ago. Before Hogwarts, even."
"I know. Stop beating yourself up about her first year. And do it somewhere that's not my lap, alright?"
"Promise me you won't threaten Dean until after the match?"
"Twin's honor."
"Thank you." George clamored off his brother and sat beside him with as much dignity as a blond Weasley could after molesting his brother.
Fred ran his fingers through his hair and grimaced. "When did they get so old?"
"Wish I knew." George sighed, but pulled himself together. This was Quidditch, after all. "Is my charm still holding up? Hair as blond as ever?"
"Yes, and it's still weird. I don't know why I let you talk me into this."
"Because I swear to God, Fred, I'm going to hex the nose right off the next girl to ask me for a love potion."
"You're just upset they all want to use it on Harry instead of you," he sniggered.
"Bite your tongue."
Luna's voice drifted across the stadium. "Oh, look. Harry is here. Goodness, he's out of breath. He was out of breath before the second task, as well. Perhaps we should all pitch in for an alarm clock. We can't have the Chosen One late for-why are you making that face, Professor? The whole team is here now."
George didn't know if he should laugh or cry. Fred seemed inclined to do both.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," a voice behind them muttered. "You're Fred and George, aren't you?"
--
By the time the match was over, Seamus had reacquainted himself with the business end of the Fred's wand, had impressed them with his expansive vocabulary (he could swear fluently in no less than seven languages) and had even managed to worm his way into their good graces. It wasn't long before he had moved up to sit with them. Cheering on the House with the twins was something worth remembering.
If he'd been in a thoughtful sort of mood Seamus would've marveled at the fact that he was hanging out with the twins and actually enjoying himself. Back when they'd still been in school he'd always found Fred and George a bit intimidating. Mean, too. Seamus didn't like pranks. He felt there was something underhanded about pranking his friends and it was much more satisfying to simply punch his enemies.
So it was downright odd, frankly, that he soon found himself working with the twins on a highly intricate and wholly underhanded prank for the lumbering oaf called McLaggen.
After quickly checking that Harry had survived yet another should-be-fatal injury, the three of them ducked into the Room of Requirement to work out a plan. The rest of the team, George had reasoned, would be too angry and distraught to properly punish the idiot, and so matters had to be taken into their own hands.
"It will be," Fred had proclaimed grandly, "a call to arms-a sign of greatness-a tribute to Quidditch!"
"It will be," George had reminded him pointedly, "very, very gross and very, very mean. Now shut up and think of a something."
That was nearly an hour ago.
Seamus was starting to understand why the twins weren't known for their high marks. Planning out a serious prank took a frighteningly long time. Luckily, the twins seemed to be on good terms with a house elf called Liddy and they had more than enough food to sustain them during their arduous attempt to ruin Cormac McLaggen.
"I still think we should start with something simple," Fred muttered. "Doxy eggs in his food is always classic."
"He ate a pound of them last year and still won't shut up about it," Seamus said. "Giving him more would only give him more reason to brag."
"Damn."
"Look, let's just go with Plan 3," George said. "It's simple but it's humiliating."
"I do like that it's in the Great Hall," Fred agreed.
Seamus considered it. "Alright," he finally said. "But only if I'm reimbursed for my troubles."
"I'm sorry, did he just say he wants to be reimbursed?"
George nodded sadly. "Aye, he did. And he showed so much promise."
"He could have followed in our footsteps."
"We have so much to teach."
"So much to offer."
"And yet he rejects us so cruelly."
Seamus had to use four of his seven languages to quiet them. "Thanks you," he said once they'd stopped. "It's not a difficult concept. I'm the one risking expulsion, so you're the ones paying me."
Silence.
"Five percent off your next visit to the shop," George finally said.
"And we'll throw in a Puking Pastille."
"Deal. Now if you'll just get me the Harrowing Hangover Hurl, we should be set. I've already got the music and the costume so that should be everything."
"Trust the Irish to have a costume at the ready," Fred muttered.
"You really want to go there?" Seamus asked. "Because I've seen what you wear to work."
George clutched his heart. "It wounds us, comrade, to hear such things. I'm taking back the Puking Pastille."
"Then I'm afraid I left my costume at home."
Fred grinned. "Clever little bugger, aren't you? Fine, we'll keep the plan as is."
They shook on it. Liddy provided some refreshments, and they sealed the deal in the manner any young males would: with a strong toast and hearty drink.
--
Cormac McLaggen never saw it coming. Unfortunately, neither did the third years who happened to cross his path. Seamus felt bad for the girls-the contents of an oaf's stomach should never touch the innocent-and arranged for them to receive some free Daydream Charms in return for their troubles.
It was in the days that followed, when he was lording over his short-lived fan club, that Seamus began to understand just why the twins had chosen the pranking lifestyle. Though there was less punching of deserving enemies, the fawning adoration more than made up for it.