"Boys, why aren't you dressed yet? Aunt Muriel can be here anytime now."

"We don't like Aunt Muriel," Fred stated.

"She smells funny," George added.

"That is not a very nice thing to say, is it? Now go on, get dressed, I will not have you two lingering about and embarrass us, you know how she gets."

The twins crossed their arms stubbornly. "Won't," they said in unison.

"Don't make me tell your Mum about your misbehaviour..." their Dad threatened and the twins looked at each other. They knew from experience what would come of that. No Quidditch, no candy, their toys locked away for at least a week…

They silently debated and then reached the conclusion that maybe it would be a better idea to just do as their Dad told them.

"I'll see you two downstairs in five minutes."

When he left, George muttered "I'm sure little Ronniekins is already downstairs, dressed and ready. You'd think he'd put up a bit more of a fight, like a good Weasley would when confronted with the idea of Aunt Muriel."

"He's six, he doesn't know better."

"He should, we've been warning him for years," George said darkly.

"I wish we were Percy's age, at least then we would be at Hogwarts, learning cool stuff instead of having to sit with Aunt Muriel all day and listen to her rambling about that stupid dog of hers or Great-Uncle Billius' left toe."

They both shuddered as they thought back on Aunt Muriel's latest visit. For over an hour, she had given a very detailed report about the toe infection Great-Uncle Billius had gotten after neglecting an ingrown toenail, to a point where even their Mum had looked a bit pale. And she had worked in St Mungo's, so that was saying something.

Exactly five minutes later they were downstairs in the sitting room. Their Mum quickly scanned their appearances and decided they looked representable enough. They were not a minute too early, for they could already hear Aunt Muriel's high-pitched voice in the hallway. "Hello, Arthur! And there's Molly and little Ginny… my, you've grown quite a bit since I last saw you."

"Too late to run now," Fred mumbled.

"Yep."

"Perhaps it's me, but this house seems smaller every time I visit."

"No, it's because she gets fatter every year," George said softly to his brother.

Fred stifled his laugh, for the door to the sitting room opened and there she was: Aunt Muriel in all her terrifying glory, radiating clouds of a cloying perfume that was perceptible even from the other side of the room, where Fred and George were standing.

"And here are Ron, Fred and George… George, your hair is mess."

"I'm Fred."

"Fred then." She turned to Molly. "Honestly, can't you do anything to make them more distinguishable from one another? I never had this problem with your brothers, they were always easily identifiable. But I suppose that's what happens when you have this many children when in fact you can't really afford them."

Their Dad's mouth became a thin line and their Mum looked as though she were about to retort, yet somehow she thought better of it. She crossed her arms instead, sending a glare to her the twins with a hint of what would happen to them when they would try to react or in any way 'act funny'.

Disappointed that she didn't get the wanted reaction out of her niece, Aunt Muriel walked over the twins and they each received a sloppy kiss on their cheeks that made them shudder. The nauseating sweetness of her perfume made them almost want to throw up. But remembering the silent threat from their Mum, they managed to keep a somewhat straight face.

Aunt Muriel set herself down in Dad's favourite armchair – of course she would – with her feet on the stool – because of her legs, tired from old age - and asked, or rather demanded, a glass of Firewhisky.

Not really knowing what to do next, the three boys sat down on the couch, leaving the smaller couch and Mum's armchair to their parents and little sister.

"How's Bill doing at Hogwarts?" Aunt Muriel asked.

Fred and George pulled a face at each other. For some reason, Aunt Muriel was extremely fond of Bill. They quickly straightened their faces when their Mum glanced in their direction, as if she had eyes in the back of her head and knew exactly what they were doing. Mum then sat up a little straighter, her face glowing with pride. "He's a Prefect again this year. And if he keeps up like this, he might even make it to Head Boy next year."

"I'm ever so proud of him. I'll send him a pack of Choco Frogs to congratulate him; they are his favourite, right?

The twins resisted the urge to pull another face. Aunt Muriel never gave them anything sweet. At best, they'd get a pair of socks or something like that for their birthday, if she remembered at all. They had gotten a few stern glares from their Mum already and they wordlessly decided that perhaps they'd better not look at each other again until Aunt Muriel was gone.

It was the longest afternoon they had ever spent and when at last Aunt Muriel announced that it was time for her to head back home, the twins released a breath they hadn't realised they were holding.

They returned to their room.

"I hate that woman," George ranted. "She always treats us as though we aren't there and did you hear what she said to Mum and Dad?"

Fred nodded vigorously. "I bet you anything Dad can stand her just as much as we do. Which is to say not at all. Yet we are the ones to get scolded for possible misbehaviour."

"It's not fair."

They sat fuming for a while.

"You know, I think it's about time we got rid of Aunt Muriel."

"I'm listening…"

"I don't know. But there must be something that scares her enough to make her stop coming over, right? I'd even let Mum and Dad take away all our toys for a week if I could come up with something that kept Aunt Muriel out."

George nodded. He agreed with his brother. The only question was, how where they going to get rid of Aunt Muriel? They both contemplated this question without finding a solution, until suddenly Fred's face split up in a grin.

"You've got something?"

"I think so. Do we still have that Dungbomb we bought at the fair last year when Mum and Dad weren't looking?"

"Yes, we have been saving it for a special occasion."

"Would you consider stopping Aunt Muriel from coming over special enough?"

George's face split into a grin as well. "I'd say that hat's the best use for it."

"I thought so as well. So, it's a deal?"

"Yes, when Aunt Muriel visits next Christmas, it's going to be the last time we'll ever have to endure that stench-y perfume and the horror stories."

"Don't forget about the sloppy kisses."

"Them too."

They both grinned. Aunt Muriel's visits were soon to be a thing from the past. They knew already that it would get them grounded for at least a month, but that was a price they were more than willing to pay.