Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me

Info: This story is going to start out sweet and fluffy--at least, generally--but it will probably get angsty by the end. I'm assuming there will only be five chapters.

George and Fred--Age Four--

"Is she gone, yet?" asked George, peeking his head around the corner. His twin, Fred, stood in front of their mum's bedroom door.

"Yes, now hurry!" he whispered, darting into the room. George ran after him, skidding to a halt just in front of his parent's bed. Fred was on his knees, reaching under it. After a heart stopping minute where George thought his mother might have moved the box, Fred pulled it out.

As they huddled around the box, the only noise was the sound of their labored breathing. Then, Fred lifted up the lid and the two stared inside.

Nestled among a bunch of old, tattered rags were several pictures, a pair of glasses, and two broken wands. They started as they always had--Fred grabbed the glasses and a wand, and Fred picked up the pictures--but after a second or two, Fred leapt up.

Pointing his wand haughtily--or at least, as haughtily as one can with a broken wand--at George, he said, I, Fabian Weasley"

"Prewett"

"Er right, I, Fabian Prewett, challenge you to a duel, Gideon," said Fred. George pulled the other wand out of the box, and jumped up.

"Abracadabra!" cried George; his wand fizzled slightly, but did nothing else. Generally, Fred would pretend to die, or dodge it, but now Fred stared at him.

"Guess what I just remembered"

"What?" George asked, frowning slightly. This wasn't how the game was played, "Fred! You aren't doing it right!"

"That's 'cuz I know a real spell," Fred said, staring down at the wand curiously. Suddenly, he looked up, "Wanna hear it?"

"Is Snape a slimy git?" George asked. He wasn't quite sure what it meant, but he'd heard his brother Charlie say it once, and it had stuck with him since.

"Okay. Ready?" Fred asked. George nodded eagerly, widening his eyes so he wouldn't miss anything.

"Avada Kedavra!" murmured Fred, pointing the wand at the floor. There was a muffled noise and then an explosion. The force of the blast was extremely strong and it threw George back several feet, causing him to smack his head against a wall. The smoke in the room was so thick that for a few minutes George couldn't see Fred.

"Freddie? Are you okay?" asked George, standing up and rubbing a chubby hand against the back of his head. When he pulled it away, his fingers were stained and sticky with blood, "Oh!"

"Yeah…I'm fine," came Fred's voice, after a few seconds, he came into few, "Bloody hell"

George placed his hands over his mouth, giggling; for a second, he forgot about the explosion. Fred had said a naughty word!

"What was that noise?" his mother's voice called. This brought George back and he stared at Fred, who was staring back at him with equally wide eyes, "Charlie? You didn't bring that awful dragon home again, did you?

There was a pause, then shuffling sounds, "…No"

"Bill? Was that you?" their mother called out.

"Bill's out meeting with Dumbledore, remember?" their father said.

"It wasn't me!" cried Percy.

"Don't worry, Perce. No one was accusing you of actually having a good time, Merlin forbid," came Charlie's muffled voice. There was a slight humph, and then it was basically silent.

"What do we do? What do we do?" asked George, dropping to the floor and scrambling to pick up the contents of the box. Only there was a slight problem; all that was left were a few scraps of the rags, and a torn corner of a picture--the subjects of said picture were all crowded together, staring angrily up at George.

George could now hear the sounds of his mother's footsteps on the stairs. He stared up at Fred, "Freddie, what do we do?"

"Uh, um, feign injury?" Fred suggested, staring down at the mangled floorboards in abject horror, "Quick! Punch me in the face!"

"Boys? What are you--" their mother stopped abruptly when she entered the room. For a moment she just stared, her mouth open wide and her eyes blinking rapidly. Then she turned to Fred, "What did you do!"

"Mum, we--" began Fred. However, when Molly Weasley noticed the small scraps on the floor, something switched in her eyes. They went from angry to sad in a second.

"Boys, was that the box underneath my bed?" she asked, biting her lip. When Fred and George slowly nodded, she closed her eyes, "Is there anything left?"

Fred and George stared at the mangled wands in their hands and thrust them forward. She grabbed them delicately, as if they were fragile pieces of art instead of…well, flaming sticks.

"Fred, George, I need you two to go to your rooms," she whispered, her breathing steady.

"Mum--"

"George, please," she said, staring down at him. Her voice broke on the word please and George found himself wishing for her regular anger, instead of this agonizing…disappointment, and pain.

George nodded and grabbed Fred's arm, dragging his twin out of the room. The door awung shut behind them, and soon the sounds of sobbing were audible.

A door above them opened--quickly, it seemed, because it slammed against the wall--and footsteps were heard hurrying down the stairs. Soon, Charlie appeared near them.

"What happened?" he asked.

"We were playing with these wands in Mum's room--" began Fred.

"--And there was this explosion, and then the box was just gone," babbled George, "Mum came in and told us to leave, and now she's--she's--"

"She's crying!" whispered Fred, "Charlie, what's wrong with Mum?"

Charlie's face became grim. "Was it a green box?" Fred thought for a moment before nodding.

"That was the box filled with stuff from Mum's brother's," said Charlie, "You two stay here, I need to get Dad"

A few moments later, Charlie was back with their dad. Their dad had a determined look on his face, and he slipped into his room without saying a word to Fred or George.

"Why's Mum so upset?" asked George.

"Well, her brothers died," Charlie said.

"So?" Suddenly, George's eyes widened, "That wasn't their bodies in there, was it?"

"No, of course not!" said Charlie, "Look, you know how Bill, and Ron, and I are your brothers?" George and Fred nodded, "Well, you'd miss us if we were gone, yeah?"

"Yeah," said Fred, "Well, maybe not Ron. He's not very fun"

"He's a baby, Fred, they don't do much," Charlie said, grinning. His grin faded, then, and he returned to talking, "You'd keep things of ours? Like pictures, right?"

"Yeah," Fred said again. He screwed his eyes closed, but after a second they popped open again, "Was that all she had left of them?"

George's eyes widened, "Is she going to hex us?"

"I doubt it, bud, but you two might want to lay low, just in case," Charlie said. At that moment, their father returned from the room, his face ashen.

"Come on boys, let's go downstairs. Maybe we could go to ice cream parlour, later," he said, trying to smile. George and Fred could tell it was fake, but they pretended to be delighted.

As they were walking down the stairs, Charlie muttered to George, "You two really shouldn't have done that"