Disclaimer: unmine.
A/N: No slash, no pairings, all names and places are canon. AU post-war and Fred is still with us. I've read a lot of fics on the twins expanding to incorporate more adult products, but there was never much of a back story, i.e how did they come to that decision, generation of the products and mainly friend's and family's reaction to the Wizarding world's first adult store. So here we are; have at.
Chapter 1 – We need more plates
There was no denying that 'Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' had been a huge success for the twins. Ever since the duo got the nascent business up and running again after the war, not a day went by that didn't see the bright and zany shop filled with shoppers of all shapes, sizes and ages, each trying to find that perfect birthday present or christmas present, or simply something wacky and exciting for themselves to celebrate the fall of Voldemort. That was the beauty of Wheezes', it appealed to all, as there was always something inside which could amuse, amaze or allure despite the fact that it was predominantly a joke shop.
Fred and George had expanded their product range quite a bit since the shop's inception back in '96, now incorporating a whole host of new potions, sweets and pranks as well as their ever popular fireworks – the new range of which now exploded into anti-Voldemort designs and patterns, devised to mock the few remaining death eaters roaming the wizarding world. WWW was dynamic, it was cutting edge and most of all, it catered for everyone…
Or did it? This question had been bothering George all week, and he was once more mulling it over in his head as he sat on the soft settée in their flat later that evening with a ledger in his lap and a pile of paperwork on the cushion next to him. Fred was currently in the kitchen, which was essentially the other half of the sitting room, making homey little noises and humming to himself every now and again whilst he stirred a large pot of stew on the hob. They had agreed shortly after they moved into the flat that Fred would see to the cooking if George did his share of the paperwork; this was naturally fine by George whose culinary prowess only extended to sandwiches and porridge, and whose writing was vastly more legible than his twin's.
Fred had begun to scoop some of the thick, steaming beef stew into bowls with a large ladle and butter some bread. George was so deep in thought that he didn't realise for a good few seconds that a bowl was being waved in front of him until Fred nearly shoved it into his face.
"Wha- oh! Thanks mate," he said sheepishly, taking the offered bowl and moving the paperwork onto the coffee table so Fred could sit next to him.
"Away with the fairies there, Georgie?" grinned Fred, immediately dunking some bread into his stew and swearing slightly when he burned his tongue on the hot stock. "wha' 'er' 'ou 'hin'in' a'ou'?"
Living so long with his twin had made George fluent in Fred's stuffed-face language, so it wasn't hard for him to decipher him even when he had a gobful of bread.
"I was just thinking about the types of customers we get in the shop," said George, looking into the fire contemplatively.
Fred swallowed his bread and scoffed. "Oh I know right? The nerve of that bloke today, claiming he was the minister's nephew so 'where was his discount?' Honestly, some people…"
George gave a slight laugh and turned to his left. "Well yes, that too, but actually I was thinking more of our customer demographics, specifically the one we're lacking."
Fred looked at George curiously.
"Have you noticed that we don't really tend to get customers in Wheezes our age? Well, in their twenties?" he went on.
Fred raised an eyebrow and took another sip of stew. "…I don't know, I could swear Lee lives here sometimes. I've definitely seen him coming through our flat door into the shop smelling of my aftershave."
George rolled his eyes. "Lee could be the shop mascot he's here so often, but I'm not talking about our friends, I'm talking about the general public, people we don't know."
Fred stopped eating and looked at George. "Well, we do run a joke shop, hardly a young-adult playground, unless they're planning on getting something to prank their girlfriends or boyfriends, or slip love potions into their mate's drink at a party or something. We're just more relevant to kids, teens and old people I guess."
"True," said George, lying back against the cushions and stirring his broth, "but I think we have a lot of potential to branch out, especially after the defensive line was so successful with the ministry and the pygmy puffs were a big hit."
George sat up and turned on the sofa so he was completely facing Fred, putting down his bowl. "But it's not just that," he went on getting more and more gesticulative, "there's a serious lack of shops in Diagon Alley for people our age. I mean, there's a niche dying to be filled here, and I think we should be the ones to do it."
Fred put down his bowl also, and sat back, looking at George with a slight knowing expression. "Let's hear it then."
"What?"
"This grandiose scheme of yours, you've obviously got something on the burner otherwise you wouldn't be…flailing," Fred reasoned.
George wilted slightly and sat back against the cushions. "Actually I don't. The Inspiration Fairy has yet to bless me with a plan of action…"
"Any relation to The Courage Sprite?"
"Cousins by marriage, I believe."
The fire snapped.
"So, you have an idea…for an idea?"
"…Yes."
"Stellar work, mate."
A short while later, George stood up and took their empty things to the sink, a couple of graceful cleaning spells later only resulted in one broken dish.
"I think you're maybe approaching this in the wrong way," called Fred from his spot on the settée. "I mean your point about the demographics not the plate," he corrected before George could retort.
"Oh?"
"Well, it sounds like you've been thinking about this on the basis of bringing something particular to Diagon Alley, than looking, rather, at what it's missing."
George came back to the sitting room bringing with him two large pieces of shortbread, courtesy of their mother. He handed a bit to Fred, who practically inhaled it in one go, before sitting down once more.
"Yes…" George said, trailing off. "The main things in a young adult's life..."
Fred looked at him, a light smattering of crumbs decorating his cheeks, and extended his thumb. "Food and drink."
"The Leaky Cauldron, Florean's and multiple cafés, " replied George.
"And I refuse to open a tea room," said Fred, his face contorted into a rictus of disgust . He extended his forefinger, "Quidditch."
"Quality Quidditch Supplies has that quite covered."
Fred extended his middle finger, "Music."
"The forté of the WWN," recounted George lazily, leaning back into the cushions.
"Thank Merlin, as karaoke is neither of ours," said Fred. He extended a ring finger, "Partying like it's 1999."
"Pubs and clubs for that sort of thing."
"True, and Wheezes is a constant party in and of itself, anyway," Fred said, looking fondly about the room like a proud parent.
George looked up at the corner of the room in thought, didn't come up with anything and turned to Fred again. "What does that leave, then?"
Fred smirked and proceeded to waggle his pinkie and eyebrows.
"Well obviously, but we can't very well sell that, Freddie."
"Naturally," said Fred in a supercillious voice remeniscent of their orotund brother Percy, nose stuck up into the air and smoking an imaginary pipe. "Mother would not approve, after all."
George scoffed. "I'm just trying to figure out the logistics of how to even go about marketing that."
Fred looked at him mischievously for a moment before suddenly drawing a lungful of air. "WHAT'S THAT GEORGE!? YOU WANT TO START A SEX JUNCTURE?! WITH SEX INVOLVED, LOTS AND LOTS OF SEX?-"
"-WILL YOU shut up-"
"-I KNOW WE'RE A BIT AT A LOSS FOR IDEAS AT THE MOMENT BUT IS SEX THE RIGHT WAY TO GO ABOUT IT?! SEX, GEORGE?"
"-our neighbours are an elderly couple, Fred!-"
"YOU REALLY NEED TO TRY AND GET SEX OFF YOUR BRAIN GEOR-HHHWWWWNN"
The bellowing was thankfully quelled once George pushed his brother onto his back, grabbed a sofa cushion, and began smothering his face with it.
"Shut up you stupid bugger," he said, trying to hold in his laughter.
Fred began chanting, what George assumed was, 'SEX!' over and over again, although it sounded more like, "SNHNHNS! SHNHHNHS! SWNHNWS!"
George started doing some yelling of his own in order to drown out Fred's cushion mantra. "WELL IT LOOKS LIKE SINCE FRED IS SO BUSY YELLING HE WON'T BE ABLE TO HAVE ANY OF MUM'S RHUBARB CRUMBLE FOR DESSERT."
Five minutes after the subsequent silence had occurred, saw the twins sat on the settée once more each with a bowl of said crumble.
"You're going to be a good dad one day, Georgie," said Fred now attacking his bowl of pudding.
George smirked. "Thanks, bro. Don't think I can say the same for you, though."
The remainder of the evening at number 93 was rather uneventful, minus the argument over who spilled crumble on the ledger, and the addition of two new broken dishes.
