AN: I obviously don't own these characters. Also, I've obviously gone bonkers, since this was honestly jumping around in my head, screaming, "Write me! Write me!"
Rose sat cross-legged on the sofa, wrinkling her nose as her little brother dashed around the sitting room. It was a fairly nice sitting room, in a fairly nice row house, in a fairly nice part of London. Of course, being in a decent sitting room didn't make her brother any less of a nuisance.
To be fair, he was barely even nine years old. It was normal, she supposed, for him to be just a little bit annoying. That didn't stop Rose from huffing as Hugo darted in and out of the doorway to gather all of his favorite pets. Why he had so many, she hadn't a clue, but she was fairly certain that he had no fewer than nine ferrets crawling up and down his limbs and body. One of them was even taking a rather cozy nap on his head.
Hugo patted the sleeping mustelid atop his head, causing the one clinging to his arm to scurry to his neck. His little menagerie looked absolutely ridiculous, Rose thought as she rolled her eyes. The furry little crown on top of his wild ginger hair moved its head and looked Rose straight in the eyes. She imagined it was thinking, Oh, God, kill me now. She didn't blame it in the least.
"I am Hugo, Lord of the Weasels!" her little brother shouted as he paraded around the room, avoiding their mum's best potted plants by sheer luck rather than by any attention to safety. The small creatures clung to his limbs for dear life.
"They aren't weasels," Rose said, groaning. "They're ferrets. If you're going to force them into that sort of torture, you should at least get their species right."
"What's the difference?" Hugo stopped in his tracks, looking at his older sister with genuine curiosity.
"Well…" Rose really didn't know. She would have to look that up sometime. "Weasels look more like rats." She simply made things up on the spot. "They have green fur and skinnier tails. Not to mention that they've got enormous fangs to chomp up their enemies." It would be nice to think of something that might frighten him just a little bit. "And they eat nine-year-old boys. Regularly."
Hugo stared at her, eyes wide, for about five seconds. That quickly stopped, though, as he stomped around the sitting room once more. "I am Hugo, Lord of the Ferrets!" he yelled, waving his arms (still covered in terrified ferrets) around him, nearly knocking over a delicate vase that was placed on an end table.
Rose simply rolled her eyes again. She could not wait to get to Hogwarts in a month's time, so that she might learn a nice transfiguration spell which could (theoretically, of course) turn her little brother into a weasel.
Maybe then, she thought with a laugh, they'd both learn the difference.
