Author's Note: Written for…

The Next Gen Competition. Prompt: OC says their first word.

PayDay Competition. Prompt: hedgehog

Rubik's Cube Challenge. Prompt: ring

Rivalry

Fred and George had never been very competitive with each other as children and teens. It was only after the war ended – a month and a day after their twentieth birthday – that the rivalry began.

Fred had been lying the Great Hall having his injuries looked over by Pomfrey as his family stood by, uncertain if he would survive. It was just after the painkillers had taken hold that he turned to his twin and smiled.

"I guess we're even now," he said of his missing arm before promptly passing out.

When it was decided that Fred would make a full recovery – minus the arm – George declared war.

They started competing over the littlest things: who could restore a statue faster or who could pull the better prank on Filch. When they went back to work they only got worse: whose experiment worked first, who sold the most in a day, or who could make Verity laugh the loudest.

When George proposed to Angelina, Fred went out the next day and bought a ring for Verity. The women refused to have a double wedding and generally tried to stay out of the boys' competition, but even they couldn't prevent the battle of the best man speeches.

Georgette and Frederick were born two weeks apart. The naming was a bit of an accident, caused by a bet that no one was sure of the winner of. Rather than forget it altogether, the twins decided to run with the idea of naming their first-borns after each other.

Then the rivalry transferred onto the children: who would be the first to smile or laugh or crawl or talk. For the first nine months or so, things were pretty well even, but then Ginny announced that James had started talking. He was only a month older that the twins' babies, and it certainly sparked a fire underneath them.

:-:

"Come on, Georgie, say something," Fred pleaded, slowly spinning a few toys and blocks above the girl's head as she sat contentedly gumming the ear of her precious stuffed hedgehog.

"Give it a rest, Fred. She'll talk when she's ready," Verity said from where she was stretched out on the couch reading Witch Weekly.

"I can't! We've got too much riding on this."

"You have too much riding on this, dear. I'm relatively certain Georgette doesn't get anything out of this little bet that you and your brother have going."

"Nonsense. Once I – we win the season tickets, I can take Georgie to the World Cup and show her how professional beaters operate. Give her some tips for when she gets to Hogwarts. Besides, you know George is working just as hard with Freddy."

Verity rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything more on the matter.

:-:

The Burrow was packed a week later for the monthly family get-together. Fred spent most of the day trying to avoid the subject of his daughter's lack of speech, though he was pleased to note that his nephew hadn't said much else but baby talk for the entire afternoon either.

However, he wasn't lucky enough to get out of doing the lunch dishes with his twin.

"So, Fred, the World Cup's coming up next week," George began, as if either of them could forget. "I don't suppose you've gotten my niece talking yet."

Fred glared at his brother. "I haven't heard Little Freddy speak."

"He said 'Dada' just yesterday. Ask Angelina," he boasted as his wife brought a stack of plates in from the backyard.

"George Weasley, I told you not to get me involved in any more of your bets," she said sternly. "And you know as well as I do that he was just babbling."

George opened his mouth to start what Fred was sure would be a long and clever excuse, but a screech from the living room interrupted them and they all went running to see what had happened. They found Verity bouncing a wailing Georgette in her arms.

"What happened?" Fred asked, rushing to take his daughter.

"She was playing on the floor and Dominique stole her hedgehog plushie and ran upstairs. Bill went after her."

The eldest of the siblings came barreling back down the stairs a moment later, tugging his three-year-old behind him. She still had the plushie clutched in her arms, and Georgie immediately reached out for the toy, struggling to be free of her father's arms.

"Dominique, apologize to your cousin and give her back her hedgehog," Bill told her firmly.

"No! My doll now," the toddler said, glaring at her baby cousin.

Georgie's face fell as the older girl backed away with the prized hedgehog, and Fred prepared for her screeching even as Bill tried again to persuade his daughter to hand the toy over. But before either girl had time to shed any more tears, the hedgehog was floating into the baby's waiting arms.

"Hoggy!" Georgette cooed happily, burying her face in the plushie's fur.

Everyone stood in stunned silence for a few moments before Dominique started sniffling and Bill pulled her from the room. Grinning, Fred turned to his twin.

"I believe that's first words and first use of accidental magic for my child, isn't it?" he asked sweetly. George scowled, but handed over the World Cup tickets willingly.

"Just wait 'til they're walking," Angelina muttered Verity as they rolled their eyes at the men.