Disclaimer: None of this is mine! It all belongs to the amazing JK Rowling, and I take no credit.

Author's Note: This is written for 'The Letter Competition' on HPFC. My characters were Fred and George, and the emotion I had to involve was 'content'. I don't think I specifically used the word, at least not in the letter, but I was trying to get it to come across in the tone. :P Anyway, enjoy!

Night had fallen outside the castle windows, but the Gryffindor common room was still busy and filled with a buzz of chatter, lit by a rosy glow from the fire. George Weasley was sprawled out on one of his favourite squashy armchairs, his eyes closed and his lips curved into a small smile. He was warm, comfortable and generally contented with life. He'd finished all his homework (well, except for that one Potions essay, but honestly, who cares about the uses of Wolfsbane in the making of an antidote?) and he had nothing to do, except perhaps to start a game of Exploding Snap with Lee. Or to infuriate Percy. That was always a nice bit of fun if you wanted to relax for an evening. George's twin, on the other hand, was trapped in detention with Filch. George allowed himself a little smirk at that.

However, just as George was beginning to formulate a plan to modify Percy's Head Boy badge – again – there was a loud pop. A small and rather flustered-looking House Elf appeared in front of him, clutching a scroll of parchment to her chest. She glanced around the common room, her droopy ears quivering slightly as she noticed the majority of the Gryffindors staring at her. She self-consciously smoothed out the cloth she was wearing, took a deep breath, and turned to face George again.

"Flick is sorry to be interrupting, sir," she said quickly, dropping into a curtsy. "But Flick was told to give this to you."

She thrust the scroll towards George.

"Thanks, Flick," said George, taking the parchment from her. "Who gave it to you?"

"Flick doesn't know, sir. He looked very like you, sir."

Aha. There was only one person George knew who fitted that description…

"Thank you," he said. Flick stayed standing in front of him, flushing pink with obvious embarrassment. "Umm… You can go, if you like."

Looking relieved, Flick turned on the spot and, with another pop, disappeared. George settled back into the armchair again and held up the scroll. Grinning, he unrolled it and began to read.

Dear George,

You lucky git! How'd you get out of that one, eh? There we are, both standing next to that smoking hole in the ground, both out after hours, both discovered with our hands metaphorically painted crimson, and yet I'm the only one Filch hauls off to threaten with the usual disembowelment, thumbscrews, etc., etc.! How does that work? Admittedly, I was also the only one who kicked Mrs Norris… I think our dear old Filch was too incensed with that to bother with you any longer. I swear, that man has eyes in the back of his head when it comes to his bloody cat - I could've sworn his back was turned, until he started yelling himself hoarse at me! "I'll report you to Professor Dumbledore, I'll have you chucked out for this, picking on an innocent little cat!" Innocent, my foot. She's bitten me on multiple occasions and I'm glad I kicked her, even if I did get stuck in detention for it.

Hmmm… On a side note, I just noticed that my hands do actually have a rather reddish tinge to them… Ah, the irony. Probably too subtle for someone of Filch's intellect to pick up on, though, more's the pity. Are yours red too? It's probably just a side effect of the Erumpent powder in the explosive, but we'll have to figure that one out before we start on the marketing… Or perhaps we can work it into the product somehow. "Hand these fireworks to your enemy. They'll be caught red-handed - literally."

All right, maybe not.

Anyway, I digress.

Those rockets were a definite success, don't you think? Other than the crater they left behind, I mean, but that can be fixed easily enough. Hell, Hagrid could probably do it with that umbrella of his. I do think the whole message idea was rather brilliant, for which I salute you, dear brother. I sincerely hope Snape was looking out of his window… I would've loved to see his expression as, just when he was innocently studying the Hogwarts grounds in all their wonder, he caught sight of this:

The night sky has always been a source of guidance…
Wonder…
Mystery…
But now, brought to you by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes for the first time ever, it can truly give you advice!
Severus Snape, it is time for you to embrace a new love.
Do you know what it is?
Some would even call it a potion.
Its name is…
Shampoo.
A most remarkable invention, one with which we feel you ought to become more acquainted.

It's going to be a great seller, don't you think? We'll be millionaires within weeks if we keep this up! Blimey, even the explosion was quite something, wasn't it? You could probably hear it from Hogsmeade. Which I suppose is why Filch found us… Damn. Maybe we should have tested it in the Forbidden Forest after all, though I still maintain that we would have started a forest fire or something.

Right, I think I'd better start to wrap this letter up now. Filch popped out for a minute to chase after Peeves, who's wreaking havoc in the Trophy Room (I may or may not have suggested it quietly to him when we passed him on the way to Filch's office…) but the old git will probably be back soon, worst luck, and in a stinking mood. But I couldn't wait to discuss the fireworks with you, so I thought I might as well write you a quick note! I'm gonna call a House Elf and ask it (ever so nicely of course - you know me) to take it over to the common room for you. And, seeing as you're reading this, it obviously worked.

See you in a bit,

Fred

(a.k.a. The Most Charming And, If I Do Say So Myself, Devilishly Handsome Weasley Twin)

P.S. Detention hasn't actually been too bad so far - just the usual threats - but I fully expect you to take the bullet next time. Or you'll have a very angry Fred on your hands, and you know as well as I do that when I am angry, people tend to end up with flaming hair!

P.P.S. Why yes, indeed that was a threat! How clever of you to pick up on it.

George shook his head as he finished reading and dropped Fred's letter onto his lap. He grinned, grabbing a new piece of parchment and his quill from his bag. He was sure Flick wouldn't mind delivering just one more letter. And if Filch happened to see it, then… well… that would just be an unfortunate bit of luck for his twin, wouldn't it? For a second, George chewed on his bottom lip, and then he started to write.

"Dear Fred," he muttered. "Otherwise known as 'Cat Kicker Weasley'. I do hope you're enjoying your detention, and I'd be glad if you'd give my kindest regards to Mr Filch…"

His evening had just got that bit more interesting.

Author's Note: That was great fun to write - thanks for reading it! I hope you liked it, and if you've got a minute to spare, a review would be very much appreciated. :D