Author's note: Written for the International Wizarding School Championship
School & Year: Beauxbatons, Year 6
Prompt & Theme: 2) Fred and George Weasley (Pairing / characters), 4) Champagne (Drink), 7) "Give me one good reason why I should wear a dress." (Dialogue); Christmas / Family Time
Word count: 1,325
Thanks for reading xx
The Weasley twins sat on the floor of their dormitory, their backs propped against their beds. Strewn between them were orange and purple striped boxes with magenta crepe paper poking out, open and ready for packing. A stack of completed order forms teetered beside George. He picked one off the top, read it, then wove his wand over a stack of Extendable Ears. He watched as it hopped into the box nearest his twin. Fred wove his own wand, a lime green satin ribbon quickly wrapping around the parcel, a quill then scribbling out an address on the top.
Suddenly, there was a sound at the doorframe. They both looked up to see Ron staring down at them and the chaotic assembly line.
"Ah, if it isn't our favorite younger brother!" exclaimed Fred, his expression cheerful.
Ron immediately looked suspicious, his eyes narrowing. "Lee said you were looking for me," he said, dubiously.
The twins exchanged glances. "Well, we wanted to ask you for a favor," Fred began.
"A... favor?"
"Yes," replied George. "You know, doing something for us without anticipating anything in return-"
"I know what a favor is," retorted Ron. He noticed, for the first time, the bright green champagne bottle that sat open behind a stack of Fanged Frisbees. "Hang on - where'd you get that from?"
"Nicked it from the kitchens," explained Fred. "They've stocked up for the Yule Ball."
"Makes the Christmas rush bearable." George burped quietly into his closed fist. "Would you like some?"
"I'm good, thanks." Ron looked at his brothers again with suspicion, his arms crossing. "Now, what did you want me for?"
Fred looked towards George and then reached behind his head, picking up a ball of fabric that had been sitting on his bed. He threw it towards Ron, who stepped forward to catch it with his hands.
The satiny purple material had unfolded and Ron, finding the edges, held it out in front of him by the tips of his fingers. It only came down to his thighs.
"It's a new product of ours," explained George, folding his hands upon his knee.
"We're still in the trial phase, but it's looking quite good."
"If you wouldn't mind, just sling it on."
Ron looked from the dainty fabric to George, then Fred. "You want me to put this on," he stated, blankly.
"Well... clearly."
"But... it's a dress."
"Again," Fred said, "that's pretty clear."
Ron looked annoyed again. "Give me one good reason why I should wear a dress."
George broke into a grin. "I've never known you to need a good reason for that before, Ron."
"Speaking of dresses," began Fred, "we've seen the robes Mum sent you for the Yule Ball. They're astonishing, to say the least."
"Astonishing is one word for it. Horrific is another." Both of their heads were nodding in agreement.
"In any case, we have a proposition for you. If you stick this on - just for a moment - then we'll order in a new set of dress robes, with your name on it."
"We actually could put your name on the label, if you like," George added.
"It could be arranged all too easily. We have a few extra Sickles lying around, what with all these orders flying in."
"Business is booming."
"Literally - we had to put in another supply order for Dungbombs."
"It's madness," George agreed, leaning forward to grab the neck of the champagne bottle and taking a sip, handing it over to Fred who mimicked him.
Ron had always felt like his older brothers were playing a game of verbal Quidditch, and he could never quite anticipate where the ball was going next. And because he could never tell what it was they really wanted, he always felt like he was walking into a trap. This was, most surely, a trap.
"The Yule Ball is imminent, you know," Fred continued.
"Everyone will be there, looking at everyone else."
"And you're going to look like a real twat in your outfit."
"Which brings us back to our question - won't you give it a go?"
He looked from one to the other with a mixture of emotions. He did not like to agree with them, but his dress robes were dreadful - he would look so stupid - that surely whatever momentary pain the twins were about to inflict on him would be nothing compared to the embarrassment of spending an entire evening in front of everyone in those smelly, ancient hand-me-downs.
He stared at the skimpy dress in his hands, which suddenly felt very heavy as he weighed up his options. It looked harmless enough... but that was meaningless, around Fred and George. The twins look at him with bated breath, Fred pressing one finger along his cheek as he looked his younger brother up and down. George had brought his thumb up to his mouth and was chewing on the nail.
After the longest time, Ron looked from the purple fabric to the twins, found the holes for his head and his arms, and quickly pulled it on. He closed his eyes.
Nothing happened.
"Ah-ha!" exclaimed Fred, almost causing Ron, who was still expecting something terrible to happen, to nearly jump out of his skin as he opened his eyes. Fred rose the bottle into the air, then took a celebratory drink. He handed the bottle back to George, high-fiving him as he moved towards him.
"He did it!" added George. They both looked towards the long red curtains at the far side of Fred's bed. George put his hand to his mouth as though calling to someone far away. "He did it - you can come out now." Suddenly, an annoyed Ginny appeared.
Ron's face turned white as he stood there in the purple satin dress. "Ginny?" he gasped, blinking at her with disbelieving eyes.
She had her arms crossed and looked at Fred and George, who were giggling together. "Fine, fine, I get it - you win." She looked livid, her eyes piercing, her cheeks almost as red as her hair.
"Win!" said Ron, almost shrilly, feeling shocked as he tried to piece things together. "What is this... a bet?"
He was completely forgotten.
"We're salesmen - it's our craft," George explained to Ginny.
"You must learn that you simply can't compete with professionals."
She rolled her eyes, tapping her foot.
"And look on the bright side," said George. "You're about to make Neville Longbottom a very happy bunny."
Her cheeks became even redder. "Well, I might have been waiting for someone else to ask me to the dance - even if Neville was the first to offer!"
"A bet is a bet, Gin - sorry."
"I'm sure Neville won't step on your feet too much," George said in a conciliatory way. It did not appear to make her feel any better.
In a huff, she prepared to leave, and was almost surprised to see Ron still standing in the threshold. "You look stupid with that dress on," she spat, looking at him before brushing past.
He quickly tore it off, looking at Fred with narrowed eyes again and throwing the fabric back to him. "Just... sod off," he muttered, annoyed that in trying to evade being a laughing stock, he had become the butt of the joke anyway. When would he learn? He shoved his hands into his pockets, cast the twins one more dark look, and left the room. The twins seemed not to care.
"Well, that was a good distraction," George said with a smile upon his face.
"Cheers to that," Fred said, accepting the champagne bottle from George who extended it towards him.
George twirled his wand towards the purple dress, watching it cut itself into ribbons and settle into a pile beside the green.
Fred burped again, the flicked his wand towards the box nearest him, tying it up with a bright purple bow.