Credit: I don't own any of the characters in this fanfiction. They are property of JK Rowling.
Author's Note: I don't usually write long fanfictions, I like to stick mostly with one-shots, so we'll see how this one goes, I suppose. It's not exactly my type of fic in either case, but someone wanted me to write it, so here we go.
May contain spoilers for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
The hot, lazy sun presided delicately over the summer days. School was out finally; it was the perfect time for pranksters to hone their skills, and Fred and George certainly hadn't missed a beat.
Of course, mischief wasn't the only thing floating around in the stifling heat. This second presence was certainly subtler than the other, and more compelling once detected. It was love, and it was the furthest thing on anyone's mind as they settled into the burrow.
The door slammed loudly, followed by the bellow of laughter; Fred and George just always had to make their presence known.
"Mornin', Mum," one of them called as they entered the kitchen to scrimmage for food.
"Morning, George," Mrs. Weasley answered, flicking her wand and sending a number of plates flying to the table.
"He isn't George," the other twin chimed in. "I am. And you call yourself our mother." He shook his head in disappointment, helping his brother gather snacks to stock their room with.
"Oh, I'm sorry, George," Mrs. Weasley apologized, slightly flustered at the mishap.
"Just kidding, Mum," the second twin confessed as they moved towards the doorway. "He really is George."
The Weasley twins ducked around the corner in a fit of laughter, half expecting to hear some sort of kitchen utensil hitting the wall behind them. To their disappointment, the only response was a small, hopeless groan from Mrs. Weasley.
"You'd think that after all this time she'd catch on," George sighed, leading the way towards the stairs.
"I know," Fred agreed as he mirrored his twin's movements. "She makes it too easy, really. Spoils all the fun. If I didn't know any better I'd say it's almost getting—old."
The pair stopped suddenly at the top of the stairs, exchanging brief glances of amusement at what they saw. Ron was at the end of the hall, bent over inspecting something that glinted brightly in the sunlight.
George held up a finger to indicate that his brother should be quiet, though it was pointless; Fred was already crouched low and ready for the stealth attack. While George hung behind silently, Fred snuck up closer to his brother. It took all the will power he had to resist kicking him in the bum.
Without making a noise, he pulled one of the drawers open in the small desk that was in front of Ron. The young Weasley didn't notice anything. This was perfect. Almost too perfect, but the twins had never let that stop them before.
Fred winked and gave his brother an okay signal, pulling away slowly to rejoin him just down the hall.
"Shiny objects do it for you, do they Ron?" George asked loudly as soon as Fred was back at his side.
Ron started, jumping and—WHAM—his head collided with the drawer. "Bloody Hell!" he shouted, clutching his head in agony. A string of the finest cuss words followed, earning him a sharp, "RONALD WEASLEY!" from Mrs. Weasley downstairs.
Fred and George were doubled over in laughter, doing their best just to stay on their feet.
"Really, Ron," George choked out through chuckles, "you should've seen yourself."
"You know what they say about people who are entertained by shiny objects," Fred added as he gasped for air.
"Yeah, well I still have more brains than you two numbskulls," Ron snapped, still rubbing his head gently.
'I seriously doubt it. I'd give you half a brain at best," George answered promptly, pausing from his laughter to seize this new opportunity to torment his younger brother. He paused, considering Ron thoughtfully, before amending, "Okay, maybe a quarter."
"And even if we only had a quarter of a brain each—," Fred resumed.
"Which, I assure you, we've got more than that," George interjected pointedly.
"—then we'd still have more brains than you because we're twins—."
"—and twins always get lumped together," George concluded.
Fred paused, furrowing his brow as he thought for a moment. Turning to George, he asked, "Why is that?"
George hesitated. "I don't know," he answered as if this was a stunning new revelation. "You know, it's like—."
"—like they don't think we can think on our own—," Fred picked up, "—and it's downright—."
"—despicable, it is!" George finished, smacking his fist into the palm of his other hand to emphasize the fact.
"You're despicable," snapped a voice from behind them, causing the twins to turn around curiously.
"Oh, Hermione, don't be silly," George cooed. "You're just jealous."
"You want us—," Fred began before his brother cut in adding, "badly". "Yes, you want us badly, but you simply can't have us, and that drives you crazy. You couldn't have us even if you tried."
"And why would I want to do that?" Hermione sneered. Her hand balled into a fist, coming to a stop beside where her wand was hidden in her robe. The twins weren't sure which was more dangerous, but they weren't about to find out either.
"Because we're irresistible," George answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He and Fred turned and strutted into their room, simultaneously humming the tune to "I'm Too Sexy" before closing the door on the world behind them.