A/N: Just a little story about George Weasley and his son :) Hope you'll enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own the world of Harry Potter :(
Fred Weasley smirked as he heard his parents having a discussion in the kitchen. He couldn't quite hear what they were saying from his seat on the couch in the living room, but he could hear that, whatever the topic was, his father was losing the argument. True enough, only a couple of minutes later, he heard the kitchen door slam and his mother's footsteps go upstairs, while his father, looking quite sheepish, emerged from the kitchen.
As his father sat down opposite him, Fred leaned against the back of the couch, making himself more comfortable. His father, in the meantime, didn't look as comfortable, which was strange; George Weasley always seemed to be boiling with confidence. The only person who could deflate his ego a little was Fred's mother Angelina. Oh, and maybe George's own mother as well, sometimes.
"What's up, dad?" Fred finally asked, when his father didn't say anything.
George scratched the back of his head. "Well, I don't really know how to say this, but – " He stopped there, frowning slightly. "Your mother asked me to give you the talk."
"The talk?" Fred blinked. "Didn't you already give me the talk about two years ago?"
George paled and said, "No, not that talk! She reckons we'll be late again tomorrow and have no time to properly say goodbye to you or anything." He paused, then added, "And you'll be gone as soon as we arrive on the platform anyway."
"That's not true!" Fred protested, although he knew that it was, actually, the truth. While his parents would fuss over Roxanne, he usually snuck away to meet his friends.
"So," George said as if Fred had not interrupted him at all, "your mother wants me to talk to you now." He looked his son straight in the eye. "And I'm supposed to tell you…" He hesitated. "Alright, I can't do this, I really can't."
Fred furrowed his brow. Something had to be seriously wrong for his dad to act like this. "Dad? You okay?" he asked carefully.
His father took a deep breath. "She wants you to know that she – I mean, we – will not accept anymore pranks, detentions, explosions, parties, bad marks, bets, and a lot more. In other words – behave yourself this year."
Fred started to understand why his father was so against telling him this – after all, he, Fred, was a lot like his dad. Everything his father just said, those were things he did as well while he was at school. "You're not serious, are you?" he asked therefore, trying to pick up his jaw from the floor.
"I'm afraid I am," George answered, trying to look strict, but failing miserably.
"But dad – you did all that stuff too!"
"I know, son," George said, sighing. "But your mother was very… persistent."
She probably blackmailed him with something, Fred thought. "But you – you don't agree with her, do you?"
"Of course I don't, Fred. Did you really think that? But you know your mother. She won't take no for an answer." Fred snickered. Yup, that was his mother. "So please, for her sake, try to – get a little less detentions than last year, alright? When you do something, make sure you're not seen or heard and that no one will tell on you."
"I'll try," Fred promised, and he meant it – detentions weren't quite his favourite pastime, so the less detentions he got, the better.
"Right," George said, rubbing his hands together and suddenly looking much more cheerful, "now that that's out of the way – I think I've got some stuff for you that might come in handy. Some are just prototypes, but you can easily test them, I'm sure. I'll hand them to you tomorrow morning. Your mother's probably going through your stuff right now to see what it is you're taking."
Fred paled. Even if his father hadn't given him the joke shop stuff yet, there was some sensitive stuff in his room, stuff his mother wouldn't like to find. Stuff he wouldn't like her to find, actually. "Right," he said finally. "And you probably have to pick it up from the shop first?"
"Yes, I do," his father said, sighing. "I can't keep that stuff around the house, but surely you would know that." Fred grinned. Ever since he had been little, he had had an unnatural knack for finding his father's products and somehow setting them off. Roxanne had been an even bigger disaster, though. "So," his father continued, "might I suggest some small ideas to you? I'm sure you'll think up some great stuff yourself, but there are some things I think would be awesome to try, especially with the new stuff."
Grinning to himself, Fred nodded. The ideas his father came up with were usually quite usable. "Fire away, dad."
"Well, you know that there are several vanishing cabinets all over school, right?" Fred nodded. "We once locked up some Slytherin in one of them. But, maybe it would be an idea to lock up several people in different cabinets, to see what would happen? Also, I'm quite aware that somehow, a couple of Professors have some Skiving Snackboxes themselves, so they can cure any student who becomes ill. Over the past year, I've improved them big time. Once a student takes one half of it, the only way he or she can be cured, is by taking the other end of the exact same sweet. Or perhaps at the Hospital Wing, but then, at least they're out of class. The teachers can't automatically cure them anymore." Fred snickered. He was sure many students had been waiting for the new version for years. The fact that Professors could cure them with one flick of their wand was spoiling the fun more than just a little bit.
For at least another hour, Fred and his father discussed various pranking tactics and the newest products George had invented. Fred was glad that his father hadn't been serious when he had told him he had to behave this year. He had almost lost his faith in the world when that had happened.
"Don't tell your mother I said all these things, alright?" George whispered in a conspirational tone.
"Er – dad? I don't think I would need to," Fred told him, a grin slowly spreading on his face, looking past his father's head at the now open door.
"That's right, he doesn't, I heard it all myself," his mother told his father, who gulped at the sound of his wife's voice. "Now go pack, Fred, I noticed that you hadn't done that at all. I have to deal with your father right now."
Fred grinned again and hastily made his way out of the room. Something was bound to happen, and it wouldn't be anything he'd like to witness.
A/N: So, what did you think? Let me know, please review!