[fanfic 100] 007 - Days
Title: His Little Problem
Fandom: Harry Potter
Characters: Fred Weasley, George Weasley, Riley Hunter
Prompt: 007 - Days
Word Count: 1,186
Rating: K+ (PG)
Summary: GoF, DT-verse. Fred and George investigate the mystery of Riley's attendance record. Secrets are revealed...others, not so much.
Links: My Little Damn Table
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"Hey," said Fred conversationally, "have you noticed, it seems Riley's been missing an awful lot of classes lately."
George glanced up from the teakettle he was supposed to be making tap-dance with a frown. "Now that you mention it, mate..."
"At least once every month," Fred went on, counting out on his fingers. "Last month was the rabbit transfiguration, remember? He was laughing at our bunny ears..."
George nodded, catching on. "And the month before that, I remember the Potions exam - he borrowed all my answers for the next day and somehow wound up with a better score, the prat."
"And the month before that..." Fred scrunched his nose in thought. "Lucky sod missed feeding those Blast-Ended Skrewts, remember? Lee was in the hospital for a week from the burns."
George nodded, grimacing. "Nearly forgot those buggers..."
"Anyway, isn't it a bit odd, how often he's sick? I mean, we skip a lot, but this is actually genuine not-spending-his-time-goofing-off-while-pretending-to-be-sick sick. Unless he's ridiculously good at hiding it from us."
George frowned at this statement, his eyes roving the classroom to the row in front of them where their friend's usual seat next to Lee Jordan was empty. "I dunno..." he mumbled. "He never wants to talk about it much. I've tried to ask him."
"Well, maybe it's something nasty he doesn't want to mentally scar us with," suggested Fred.
George cocked an eyebrow at him. "This is Hunter we're talking about, right? The one who scarfed two dozen Cockroach Clusters because you paid him?"
"Ah, good point. But that's only because you didn't eat them, you know, and they were going to go bad."
George calmly reached over and cuffed his head. "You know I hate those things, you idiot."
"Hey! I totally did not deserve that one." George glared at him. "...All right, fine, maybe I did." Fred rubbed his head ruefully and stared at his twin, who resumed muttering the spell they were supposed to be working on, poking at the teakettle. The two fell silent a moment like this; Fred, his head now propped on one palm, idly surveyed as his brother prodded grimacingly at his teapot, which wobbled.
George stopped suddenly, unaware as his teapot wobbled dangerously near the edge of his desk; Fred knew from his familiar scheming expression that the gears of his mind were working, and he straightened slightly in his seat.
"Something bothering you, George?" Fred prodded with a grin.
"My God ... it makes so much sense now..."
"Really?" Fred feigned amazement. "Do tell, oh wise brother of mine." He couldn't stop the wide grin creeping up on his face as George turned toward him, grinning slightly as well now.
"No wonder he didn't want us to find out. There'd be a heck of a lot of trouble if word got out..."
"No, really? What's wrong with our dear Hunter then?" Fred pressed.
George's expression turned solemn. "Riley's a werewolf," he said.
Fred's grin faltered; in the silence the teapot toppled from the table and shattered on the floor, but neither twin paid it any mind.
"Wait - what did you say?" Fred said incredulously.
"It makes perfect sense now," George said, staring off into the distance as he ran the facts over in his mind. "Missing classes every month ... disappearing from the dorm ... not wanting to talk about it ... how pale and sick he always looks around that time ... and how snappy he gets too," he concluded.
Enrapt in his thoughts, George didn't see the very odd look Fred was giving him; he shook his head in slow bewilderment. "I ... never would have guessed..." he ventured at last.
"Who would've thought," George remarked happily. "Ah, Riley'll be surprised when we tell him that we know."
"Surprised isn't the half of it..." Fred muttered under his breath.
--
"Hey, Riley!"
The sixth year jumped, wheeling about from the doorway to the hospital wing; quickly he stuffed something out of sight in his bag before breathing out a long sigh of relief.
"Oh ... it's you guys," he remarked with a wan smile, regarding Fred and George grinning at him.
"Thought we'd see how you were feeling," said George.
"What's that?" said Fred, pointing at his bag. Riley shifted.
"Er - nothing much, just some pain medication ... been feeling a bit off lately..."
Both twins nodded sympathetically, which was unnerving in itself. Riley started to inch away, but the redheads were blocking his path.
"All right, what do you want?" he sighed, hands on hips.
"Whatever do you mean? We just wanted to wish you well."
"And to, er, give you this," said George, flourishing from behind his back some bright yellow flowers. Riley stared as he thrust them into his hands. "Well, we thought, since you gave me flowers when I had my concussion we might as well repay the favour."
"I don't have a concussion..." Riley said blankly.
"Well, we know you haven't been feeling that great lately - going through some rough times and all. Just thought this might cheer you up a bit."
"Er ... thanks," said Riley. His heart was beginning a drum-roll in his chest. "While I appreciate the thought and all ... really, nothing's wrong... "
"Of course not," said Fred, placing his hand on his shoulder.
"We just want you to know, we're here for you and all, if you ever need us," said George.
Riley's eyebrows shot up and he took a step back, rather pale now. "Er..." he said, blankly. "What - what are you talking about?"
"Well, you know..." said George.
"Your 'furry little problem'," said Fred.
Riley mouthed wordlessly a moment. Furry little...? Well, that's not exactly how he'd phrase it, but the twins weren't exactly known for making a lot of sense. He shook his head slowly, fervently hoping that it was only paranoia that was sending cold chills to the pit of his stomach. He had to go find Alex - now.
Riley shook off his fear and tried to smile. "Right. Well, thanks. I think I can deal with this ... furry issue on my own."
"If you ever need someone to talk to..." George began.
"I'd find a psychiatrist," Riley said dryly, brushing past them. "Honestly, I always thought you two were a little out there, but I'm afraid your imagination's run away with you this time. Thanks for the flowers though."
Fred and George watched him disappear down the hall, humming faintly under his breath; Fred cocked an eyebrow at his twin.
"You still think he's got a furry little problem?"
"You're the one who came up with that, not me," George pointed out. "'Sides, he was with us up until that - if it weren't for you, he'd have taken our offer seriously."
"...Right," said Fred, wisely refraining from comment. "Well, tell me if you make any progress on the furry front. I'm curious now."
"Nah, I think it'd be more fun to laugh at you behind your back while we're off having wolfie adventures."
Fred held back a wry grin. "You do that George, you do that."
The End
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