~ Chapter Four ~
"Oops," twin voices muttered just before an explosion shook the walls of an upstairs bedroom in Grimmauld Place. Fred and George cautiously crept out from behind the barricade of furniture they had arranged at the front of the room after their first less-than-successful trial run two days earlier. Since reading Charlie's letter, they had been determined to find a way to keep in touch with Harry. Charlie was right, the younger boy shouldn't be so cut off from the rest of the world. Ironically, it was their mother who had ultimately inspired this latest round of experimenting.
She and Ginny had been sniping at each other again; this time, as far as the twins could tell, because of a charmed diary that Ginny had asked for as a birthday gift.
"...But mum, it's just a charm! The diary picks up on your mood and writes back little comments like a friend would if you were passing notes in class. It's completely harmless, and-!"
"Ginevra Weasley! I would have thought you'd learned your lesson about inanimate objects writing back to you of their own accord!"
"That's not fair, it's not the same!"
"The answer is no, I won't hear another word about it! Until you show me a journal that will let an actual HUMAN friend write back, this topic is dropped. Now go and find Hermione, you girls can help me with dinner..."
The twins grimaced as their most recent explosion brought the sound of their mother's shrieking floating up from the kitchen, mixed in with Sirius's barking laughter and soon followed by Mrs. Black's screams. They had their usual privacy charms in place, but for some reason, while the doors and walls of the Black house were easy to silence, the floors and ceilings were particularly resistant.
"Well that sounds..."
"...cheery!"
"Looks like we'll get..."
"...one last shot." They quickly vanished the flurry of ashes and charred scraps of paper that until minutes ago had been a piece of parchment. Placing a new one in the tray of potion laid out in the middle of the floor, the twins effortlessly cast a series of charms and spells around each other, weaving their magic together like a complex dance. Holding their final charms suspended above the tray, they backed carefully towards their charred dressers and mattresses.
"One..."
"...Two..."
"Three!" As one, they released their spells and dove behind the barricade once more. Twin sets of eyebrows rose in surprise when no explosion followed, and they slowly grinned at each other. Downstairs, Mrs. Black's portrait stopped screaming.
"Did it..."
"...work? No idea."
"Do we try the journals?"
"Well, it didn't explode this time..."
"...and mum's on her way up..."
"...so I guess we've no choice in the matter." Scrambling to over to the other side of the room, Fred and George quickly reset the experiment, this time carefully placing three leather-bound journals side-by-side into the solution. They grimaced as they sensed someone outside their door trying to break through their wards, but didn't pause in their work.
"Here goes..."
"...nothing!" And with one last nod to each other, they let their final charms drop onto the potion. They held their breath and watched as the concoction bubbled and shimmered, the tray starting to rattle against the floor and drops of the brew sloshing over the edges. Then, suddenly, everything stopped. The potion flashed brightly, then seemed to be soaked into the journals. They appeared to shine for a moment, then faded immediately back to being plain, slightly beat-up leather journals.
"Do you think...?"
"I don't know." There was a loud crash outside the door and the boys sprang into action. George began incinerating all their notes with his wand, clattering anything within reach onto the floor as he did to disguise the crack as Fred disapparated with the journals. He reappeared empty-handed moments later just as his brother finished up, and both boys turned as one towards their bedroom door as a frighteningly livid and narrow-eyed Molly Weasley burst through.
"GEORGE AND FREDERICK WEASLEY, YOU JUST WAIT UNTIL YOUR FATHER GETS HERE!"
XxXxXxXxX
Meanwhile at Privet Drive, Harry Potter was having troubles of his own.
"Don't lie to me boy!" Uncle Vernon hissed dangerously, face purple with rage.
"I'm not lying, I haven't done any magic!"
"DO YOU THINK I'M STUPID?!" Vernon roared. Harry wisely chose not to answer.
"Your back was red as a tomato not two days ago, and now you look as though you've just gone tanning for a spell!"
"You're mad at me because my sunburn healed?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. He knew asking questions was the surest way to flare up his Uncle's temper but even after a lifetime stuck living with the Dursleys they still managed to shock him with their special brand of cruelty.
"DON'T ASK QUESTIONS BOY!" Vernon responded predictably. "You ungrateful little brat. After all your Aunt and I have done for you; taking you in, feeding you, clothing you, giving you Dudders' second bedroom, all out of the goodness of our hearts... And how do you repay us? Sneaking around breaking into our home while we're out, doing your freakish magic, lying to us. You're just like your no-good parents. You should have died in that explosion right along with them; that would have done the world some good!" He had been bearing down on Harry as he shouted, and finally lunged forward, grabbing the slender boy in his meaty hands and shaking him roughly.
Hedwig, who had been growing increasingly agitated, let out a piercing screech and began rustling frantically in her cage, trying to get out and help her young owner.
"AND I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THAT RUDDY OWL!" Harry landed in a painful heap on the floor as Vernon shoved him to the side and strode to the dresser. With a swipe of his arm, Hedwig's cage went crashing into the wall before clattering to the floor among her panicked cries.
"No! You're hurting her!" Before he could think about what he was about to do, Harry sprang off the floor and darted forward, throwing himself at his Uncle even as the large man lifted a leg to aim a kick at the cage. Harry's arms closed around Vernon's waist, the force of the tackle knocking him off balance and both men falling on the floor in a heap of tangled limbs.
Harry scrambled out of his Uncles reach as soon as possible (though not before a well-placed kick landed in his ribs), and knelt between Hedwig and the heaving man, eyes wide with terror. Never before had he laid a hand on any of his relatives, not even Dudley, and he couldn't begin to imagine what the punishment would be for such a dire offense.
As his uncle sluggishly caught his breath and stumbled to his feet, a wicked gleam came to his eyes and he slowly grinned at boy and owl. Harry felt his heart freeze in his chest with dread, and when Vernon spoke in a deadly whisper, it seemed to his nephew that the words echoed off the walls like canon shots.
"You just made the biggest mistake of your life, Potter." His name was spit out as though it was actually painful to speak, and a distant part of Harry's mind acknowledged that even Snape would have been impressed. "I'll teach you your place yet, boy. Your Aunt and I gave our word to take you in, so you'll stay and you'll be fed, but only where I can watch every bite you take. Don't think I didn't know you were stealing our food for that filthy animal of yours. Well, we'll just see how high and mighty you are while you watch the blasted bird starve. We never promised to take in your pets." With a final evil smirk, Vernon backed out of the room, shutting it behind him and sliding the lock into place with an ominous click.
Harry delicately lifted Hedwig's cage upright, holding it cradled against his skinny body and giving into the tears.
The habitants of Privet Drive would talk for weeks about the day that snakes crawled out of every shed and garden, raising their necks to hiss into the summer air in a sorrowful salute before disappearing once more to the safety of their tunnels. The dark-haired boy shaking with with the force of his sobbing in the smallest bedroom of number 4 was completely unaware.
XxXxXxXxX
George lay with his head on his twin's chest, arm wrapped loosely around his taut stomach. The steady rise and fall of Fred's even breathing combined with the soft thumping of his heartbeat to create a peaceful harmony which had comforted George since before he was born. Long fingers began to card soothingly through his bangs and he burrowed closer to his brother, breathing in the scent that was unique to his other half.
Fred felt himself settle and his shoulders relax as he watched the silky red strands of his brother's hair slide through his fingers. He wondered who had started this consoling ritual; had George turned to him in the cradle they shared as infants, searching for a reassuring embrace in a moment of uncertainty? Or had he himself started it, wrapping himself around his twin, basking in the feeling of being wanted and needed to settle his own fears?
Fred tried to imagine what his life would be like if he had been born alone, as his parents had expected, and his breath hitched, hands tightening instinctively where they held his twin. George hummed questioningly, lifting his head to meet Fred's eyes, who just shook his head, unwilling even to speak his thoughts out loud. But then, George had never needed him to. Pulling himself more fully onto his brother, George sighed as their mouths met and happily parted his lips to allow Fred's tongue in.
As it often had since they had begun exploring this new side of their relationship at the start of summer, the sheer magnitude of the emotions swirling around them quickly became overwhelming. They broke the kiss, hands reaching for each other and fingers interlocking as they pressed their foreheads together, eyes squeezed shut as they willed their breathing to even out once more. George rolled heavily off his brother, each of them adjusting so that they maintained as much contact as possible even as they lay beside each other on their backs.
"So..." Fred began when the silence had stretched on long enough.
"Mum's not happy with us." Fred squeezed his brother's hand reassuringly, but George just squeezed back and shook his head. "But was worth it."
"If the journals even work." Fred muttered morosely, and he felt George watching him from the corners of his eyes.
"I think it was worth it either way," he whispered. "I'd do it all over again if I thought it might help Harry." Fred felt his brother shifting away uncertainly and quickly pulled their joined hands up to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to his brother's fingers.
"Me too."
They were quiet then, not needing to talk to know they were both thinking back to the scene with their mother earlier that day.
Mrs. Weasley's face had gone deathly pale as she took in the state of the room. Dressers and wardrobes were overturned and cracked in several places from the impact of the explosions. Both mattresses were charred almost beyond recognition, and one set of sheets was in tatters after Fred had had to use it to beat down flames when a wall had briefly caught on fire. In her fury, she seemed to tower over her sons despite their extra height.
"What. Have. You. Done," she demanded, voice eerily low and even.
"Well you see-" "We were just-" Both twins rushed to explain but were cut off abruptly as their mother spun toward them furiously.
"Not. Another. Word," she growled. Then with a wide sweep of her wand she began summoning all their remaining experiments. "Accio potions! Accio charmed objects! Accio trick candy! Accio prank creations! Accio notes and plans!" Fred made a grab for the last of their extendable ears as they went zooming past, but George pulled him back, shaking his head warningly at his brother.
Just as their mother seemed to have exhausted her list of forbidden items, Sirius appeared over her shoulder.
"Now Molly, we just got the old hag to shut up again, all your shouting is going to..." He trailed off and his eyes grew comically wide as he took in first the state of the room, and then the large heap of contraband in front of the fuming woman. He whistled, a twinkle of amusement coming back to his eyes.
"You boys want to do my mum's room next?" He invited eagerly.
Unfortunately, this seemed to be the last straw for Mrs. Weasley. Pointing her wand at the pile of sweets and inventions in front of her, she drew herself to her tallest height and spoke a single word, her voice deathly calm: "Incendio!"
This time it was George who leapt forward, and Fred who wrapped his arms around his twin holding him back from the column of flames.
"NO!" George sobbed harshly, pulling against Fred's hold as tears fell fast down his cheeks.
"Bloody hell Molly," Sirius whispered, all the blood having instantaneously drained from his face as he stared at the pile of ashes in horror. She turned briskly and walked past him without a word. She paused outside the door just long enough to look over her shoulder and tell her sons,
"I expect this mess to be cleaned up by morning." Then she was gone.
"George!" Fred choked out, arms tightening around his brother and face burrowing into the other boy's neck as he let his own tears escape.
"Come on boys, step out. No, eyes on me; that's it, just a few more steps." The twins barely registered Sirius's soft words. They blinked at each other in surprise when they finally realized that they were standing in the hallway outside of their bedroom.
"We have to..."
"...mum said..."
"...the mess..." Neither of them seemed capable of full thoughts just yet.
"No." They jumped at Sirius's harsh tone, and he carefully softened his voice before continuing. "No, I'll take care of it, you just go." He held up his hand before either boy could argue. "She may be your mother, but this is my house. You've been through enough today. Go to my room, lay down. I've got this." They nodded dazedly, then turned down the hall, heads hanging in defeat.
"Fred, George." Sirius sighed as they looked at him, eyes dull and red, tears still glistening on their faces. "I'm sorry."
"It's all gone, Fred. All our work, years of it. She burned all our notes, it's... gone." George's breath hitched, and Fred turned onto his side facing his brother, head propped up on his hand. He brushed a stray tear from his twin's face tenderly and whispered,
"Not all of it Georgie." Pulling his wand from his pocket, Fred disapparated. Moments later, he reappeared at the bottom of the bed, the journals held almost reverently in his arms.
"We don't even know if they work," George said, but his twin recognized the hope in his eyes.
"So, let's find out." He opened each journal, laying them side by side on Sirius's bed before raising his wand.
"Accio quill." There was a soft rustle from a desk in the corner of the room, then a quill came sailing toward them and Fred caught it easily. "Care to do the honors?" He asked grinning, and held the pen out to George.
He took it slowly, twirling it around in his fingers a few times before squaring his shoulders and leaning over the closest book. Hello, he wrote, taking a deep breath when nothing happened besides the ink drying on the page.
"Well," he said, "this is either very good.."
"...or very bad." Fred finished. George nodded at him, then leaned over once more. I solemnly swear that I am up to no good, he wrote this time, and as the ink dried, the journal glowed briefly before both messages faded slightly on the page. The other journals lay still and unchanged.
"Okaaaay," George muttered, dragging the word out as his forehead creased in confusion.
"And what does that mean?" His brother shrugged, just as bewildered.
"Write something else." George nodded and scribbled Abra-Cadabra! Fred just barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the ridiculous muggle "magic word," in favor of watching the journals intently. After a moment, however, it was obvious that the only thing they were watching was drying ink.
"Oh well." George whispered, trying not to let the disappointment come through in his voice. Suddenly, Fred's eyes widened and he grinned.
"Oh give me that!" He snapped impatiently, snatching the quill from his brother's hand and re-writing the activation phrase on the second and third journal: I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. Each journal glowed briefly in turn, and then almost immediately an invisible George seemed to be writing Hello, Abra-Cadabra! on both pages. Their eyes met gleefully and George snatched the quill back from his twin. Mischief Managed, he wrote below the message in one of the journals, and with another glow the journal went blank. He handed the quill to the other boy. Fred and George are geniuses, he wrote in one of the other books, watching as the message appeared on both of them. He then quickly re-activated the final journal and beamed as the message appeared there as well.
With a joyful shout, George tackled his twin in a bone-crushing hug, sending them both rolling off the bed to land in a heap on the floor. Their laughter filled the room as they wrestled around on the wood floor, poking sides and tickling ribs and in general basking in their victory.
Fred suddenly found himself on his back, George straddling his waist as they both fought to catch their breath in a moment of truce. He shifted his hips, trying to find a more comfortable position pinned under his brother's weight, but stilled when the movement pressed his body flush against his twin's and they both gasped in pleasure. Neither of them had noticed their growing arousals as they tumbled over each other in excitement. They were now glaringly aware, however, and Fred froze. They hadn't moved past making out yet, and the last thing he wanted to do was push this fragile bond too far too fast. He glanced up at his brother cautiously, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight.
George's face was flushed, his pupils so large they made his eyes nearly black. He licked his lips slowly before bracing himself on Fred's shoulders and leaning down to swallow his gasp in a demanding kiss. As their tongues met, George ground their hips together once more and Fred groaned, arms wrapping around his brother to pull him closer. Their bodies continued to move together, as seamlessly in sync in this as they had been in everything since birth. Fred let his hands glide over his twin's back, pausing for several moments to toy with the warm strip of skin right above his pants which his shirt had fallen forward to reveal. Then, with only a moment's hesitation, he reached lower, fingers sliding into pockets and kneading the firm muscle of his brother's ass for the first time as he pressed their bodies impossibly nearer.
"Fred!" George moaned, body snapping down against his erratically before stilling, every muscle in his body straining, and then sliding languidly onto his twin, utterly relaxed.
The mere realization that his brother had just come, on him, because of him, was enough to send the other redhead over the edge and he sealed their mouths together once more as his hips snapped forward in release.
"You know what this means, right?" Fred asked seriously between gasps.
"Yep," George answered. "We're going to have to buy Ginny that damn diary for her birthday."
"Exactly." They beamed at each other, Fred lifting his head to share one last tender kiss before they clumsily helped each other to their feet and began plotting their second trip to Privet Drive.
