A/N: I've been working on this for a few days, please review! It takes place during The Order of the Phoenix.
The snow.
It's funny how, as a kid, I used to love snow. Now that I'm fifteen, snow is the scum of the earth. I guess I'm still a kid, but still. Snow is the worst. I'd rather it flash flood with a monsoon. We don't even live anywhere in monsoon areas of the world, and I'm not sure if it's ever flooded here. But if it could, I'd rather those than a snowdrift.
Mum had sent me out to go shovel the driveway at Grimmauld Place, for reasons I have no way of explaining, as we don't even use the driveway, and the fact that it stretches as far as the other horizon. It takes me ten minutes to get the shed out back unlocked without magic because my fingers are numb and stuck together. I step inside the cramped building and find the shovel next to several of Dad's Muggle devices. I carry it one hand to the driveway and begin to shovel.
"Ickle Ronniekins, shoveling the snow," chimes a familiar voice. I scowl but don't look bag. I won't give them the satisfaction of shooting a snowball at my face.
"How adorable," adds another.
Great Merlin, they love ruining my day. I grit my teeth and continue to do my job, hoping that perhaps Mum will show some pity on me and tell me I can come back inside. The night is falling on the horizon. Maybe she will soon.
I gasp as a snowball hits me in the back of the head, cold and icy. It falls down my jacket and I curse. I can hear Fred and George laughing, and I turn around to face them by holding my hand up in a rude gesture. I'm answered by another snowball striking my gloved hand.
"Do you really have to ruin my fucking life?" I snap.
They're sitting on the roof, the snow melted away around them as they grin. They probably could conjure up a fire, too, if they really wanted to mock me. I hate being fifteen. The main reason is because Fred and George are old enough to use magic outside of Hogwarts.
"Do you kiss our mother with that mouth?" George calls.
"I learned it from you!" I shout back, turning back around and digging the shovel into the snow.
"If you learned it from us," Fred says, his voice somewhat lacking its usual charisma and mocking edge, "you'd have learned how nasty of a habit it is, too."
"Yeah, well, it's not like you two are the best bloody teachers."
I work on in silence for a while, and they seem content to allow me too. I cover the first ten feet of the driveway and am drenched in sweat. I prop my elbow on the handle for a minute, allowing myself a rest.
"If you learned anything from us," Fred says in a tetchy voice, "you'd learn not to stop working just because you're tired."
"Bloody hell," I spit. "Give me a break!"
"We'll give you a break in hell," George says. "I'm sure Satan will comply."
I have to bite my tongue to stop from screaming every obscenity I know at them. The ice is sliding into my boots, turning my feet wet and freezing. I grit my teeth and keep on.
"Ickle Ronniekins doing his work...for once."
"Would you stop?" I explode. I can't explain why it bothers me so much, but I know that it does.
"You should learn that maybe instead of cursing and blaming us, you could, I don't know, do something productive?" George suggests lightly.
"You know," I say, turning around to face them, "maybe you should shut up..." My voice trails off as I realize they're no longer on the roof. In fact, I can't see them anywhere. I shake my head and continue my work, ears perked for any sound of movement.
They should just leave me alone. Realize I dislike them in every form.
A snowball catches my ear. It stings like a thousand needles. I snap. I turn around and see both of them standing,
"You could at least listen to your big brothers for once," George says, sounding affronted. I don't know if he's being serious.
"You're never supposed to listen to Big Brother," I say, shaking my head.
"What?" George asks, baffled.
"Haven't you ever read 1984?"
"You think we know how to read?" Fred asks. "Blimey, it's worse than we thought."
"Could you do me a favor and just leave me alone?" I ask bluntly.
"You wouldn't last a day without us," George retorts.
"Oh really?"
"Really," Fred says, and I can tell he's struggling to keep his voice level. "And soon you're gonna have to cope without us!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, baffled. George has rounded on Fred, a scowl on his face. "Why'd you tell him that?" George hisses.
"What?"
"Nothing," George says.
"It's not nothing," I say coolly. "'Cope without us?' What're you talking about?"
"You can't tell Mum," Fred pleas.
"Tell Mum what? I've got no bloody idea what you're talking about!"
"We're leaving," George cuts in softly.
"Leaving? No, you're not going back in until you tell me what's really going on." It's so, so cold out. "You and Sirius will have eaten everything for dinner and leave me nothing if you go in now."
"Don't you get it?" Fred snaps. "We're leaving. As in forever."
The realization of what they really mean dawns on me, and I gape at them, my jaw unhinged. I can't even form the words to say what I mean.
"Close your mouth, idiot," George says.
"Bastards!" I choke out.
"You can't tell anyone," Fred says, a note of desperation to his voice.
"You're leaving us right after Percy!"
"Not right now," George says quickly. "Merlin, Ron, not at this minute! Later this year, don't you get it?"
"I don't get it at all," I say stubbornly.
"In a few months we'll be out of here. That's it."
"Mum's counting on you, dammit!"
"Don't tell her a word," Fred says.
"If you do, we'll skin you," George finishes.
"Bastards," I repeat.
"Shut up, Ron," Fred snaps. "We're doing this for you and Harry and Hermione and Ginny anyway. You'll see." This is one of the only times I've ever seen them this serious.
"Fuck you," I say.
"Go in and eat," George says defeatedly. "We'll handle this, but don't tell anyone, please."
I grudgingly obey, and while I'm heading inside, I see Fred wave his wand, and the snow leaves the drive. I stare at my brothers, unsure of everything.