The Extravagant Epic of Fred and George
Epic
[ep-ik]
–adjective
Noting or pertaining to a long poetic composition, usually centered upon a hero, in which a series of great achievements or events is narrated in elevated style.
Part One: Innocence
Fred and George Weasley were gallivanting- taking a reprieve, if you will, from their nine year old baby brother and eight year old little sister; wanting to make use of their wits in solitude. They had to plan something truly spectacular to say goodbye to their Mother: after all, they were departing in a week to Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry.
Fred lay opposite of his twin in the sweeping amber grass, his hands casually under his head as he stared absentmindedly at the passing clouds.
"Ey, Georgie," he said, plucking a sprig of clover carelessly.
"What's that, Fred?" Replied the twin, who was lying on his stomach and inspecting the path of a wandering beetle.
"Things are going to be different now," Fred said, "You know that."
"Different how?" Asked George disinterestedly.
"With us going off and all that," Said Fred, sitting up and turning towards his twin. "No more Ron or Ginny, or anything of the like."
"It's not a fair trade," Replied his brother, "We get Percy so soon as we arrive."
This made Fred laugh. He lay back down and stared upwards.
"But things really are going to change," He said to himself, "I'll make them."
"Oh?" Said George, suddenly taking interest.
"Right," His twin said, "We're going to make something real big of ourselves, Georgie. You wait and see, eh? We'll get up bright every morning and stir something up so everyone knows we're there."
A whisper of excitement began to well in George's belly, he sat up and leaned forward, beaming at his brother,
"We'll give 'em the hell we can't raise around here," He said.
"And then we'll show them that us Weasley boys are Masters of Mischief," Said Fred, "Because we're not appreciated around here, are we?"
The other boy laughed, "Right. Mum skins us alive every time we breathe funny near the little' uns."
"Hmm," His fellow trickster said, as if in revelation, "We did tell her we'd be on our best behavior, didn't we, George?"
His brother hesitated, and then smiled widely. He leaned forward and whispered;
'When has that ever stopped us before?'
It was night, the eve before departure. Neither Weasley boy could sleep, though they weren't quite aware of each other. The new beds their Mum had just gotten them didn't mean much, now that they were leaving. At least Ginny would now have a room of her own as she awaited the call of her wizarding career.
After a painful minute of silence, Fred whispered into the darkness, "George?"
When at first no reply came, Fred turned on his side and buried his face into his threadbare quilt, gathering the scent for safekeeping (he'd keep it near his heart, where it would be safe.) He was vying, desperately, for comfort.
He heard the sounds of his brother's gentle footsteps.
"Fred," Murmured his twin, "I swore I heard my name, Freddie. Can you not sleep either?"
He sighed in immense relief and turned around, pulling his brother by his sleeve into the bed beside him.
"Sleep here tonight, Georgie," He mumbled into his brother's shoulder, "I'll never get to rest knowing you're all the way over there." George didn't hesitate to settle in, jostling his twin until the perfect amount of space between them was reached.
And just as quickly as they'd nestled into bed they were asleep, and inevitably, in each other's arms.
For the two troublesome Weasley twins, everything went better than expected. Once assimilated into the whirlwind of Hogwarts activity, magic became a powerful tool in their arsenal of mischief. They interpreted every jinx and potion as something to potentially drive their commonmates crimson with irritation.
More importantly, they remained constantly together. Despite a quietly harbored fear of impending separation, George did not discard Fred in the academy's current of people. And although George was sure Fred would likewise lose interest in him, he kept his brother in his pocket throughout the year.
In the beginning, everything was perfect.