I do not own the world of Harry Potter or any of its characters.
All those rights go to J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and anyone else I should mention.
Also, special thanks to Billy for this one.
Bill and Fleur had had the most beautiful wedding that any of the witches and wizards at the reception could remember. All throughout the enchanted reception tent, erected in the middle of the Weasley's large garden, guests were drinking their fill of sparkling champagne, talking, laughing, and whirling about the dance floor in their most elaborate and frivolous dress robes. The warm night was perfectly clear, and the moon and stars shone brightly on the merry scene below. And none were making merrier than the most mischievous and spritely pair ever to be reared under the Weasley name, Fred and George.
"Blimey, George, Bill just set the bar bloody high for spouses, wouldn't you agree?" Fred asked his brother, eyeing Bill and Fleur waltzing in the middle of the floor and throwing back the last of the contents of his champagne flute.
"Yeah…," George replied, twirling his own flute, "we'll definitely have to look beyond the old Hogwarts crop if we want to rival his success."
"My thoughts precisely."
Fred took another long sip from his flute which had just magically refilled itself for the eighth time, then directing George's attention to the other side of the enchanted canopy, he pointed out a small huddle of breathtakingly beautiful young girls. There were four of them, and they all looked to be around the age of eighteen, with long, flowing, silver-blonde hair; fair, luminescent skin, and bright, icy blue eyes. One of them noticed the twins gazing at them and immediately informed her companions of their admirers, causing them all to burst into a fit of giggles, flashing radiant smiles in their direction.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" George questioned with an impish grin spreading over his cheeks.
"I certainly hope so, my most holy of brothers. I think it's time we gave our new veela in-laws a proper welcome to the family."
The twins made their way confidently through the colorful sea of dancers and came to stand next to the angelic assembly. They straightened their backs and each mustered identical genteel expressions, like a pair of courtly squires. The girls laughed even more at this ludicrous show of chivalry as the red-headed brothers took each of their hands in turn and pressed them to their lips, addressing them with silky smooth voices.
"Enchanté, mademoiselles," George drawled, "What might your names be?"
A fresh wave of giggling erupted among them as they jabbered excitedly to each other. Then the tallest among them stepped forward and, smiling brightly, gestured to herself and then each of the other girls in turn, speaking each name in a heavy French accent, "Mite, Poisfleur, Toile D'araigné, et Grainemoutarde. We are seesters."
"What a coincidence!" George exclaimed, "My name is George, and this is my brother, Fred. If you look closely, you can tell we bear a slight resemblance."
"And where, exactly, is a clan of beauteous nymphs such as yourselves prone to wander this evening?" Fred inquired, raising an inviting eyebrow, evoking more chuckles.
"Everywhere, I zuppose," Mite replied with a shrug. "We 'ave traveled all zhe way around zhe world wiz our cousin Fleur, and we 'ave been azzisting her all wiz 'er dress and train. We even walked all over zhe 'ills zhere, picking flowers for 'er bouquet."
"Well we had a hand in making our dear brother look right dashing as he stood next to your lovely cousin today, didn't we Fred?"
"Indeed. Had we not found the cufflinks we hid from him three years ago, he would have had to use Dad's…"
"Rhinestones… not exactly the most aesthetic accessories," George supplied with a grimace.
Mite gazed up at the pair of them with a knowing smirk, her sisters watching from behind with amused expressions.
"Fleur 'as told us all about you two," she began. "You are quite zhe pranksters in zhe family are you not?"
"What, us?" George demanded, throwing a hand over his heart and widening his eyes in mock shock.
"My dear lady, that is poppycock!"
"Absolutely outrageous!"
"Never in our lives…" The twins were fuming in pretend outrage, much to the delight of their captivated audience who were now beside themselves with laughter.
At that moment however, before they could continue their charms, Bill Weasley popped out of the dense crowd of dancers and made his way swiftly to their side. He seemed exasperated.
"Fred, George, could I have a word?"
Fred and George were taken aback for a moment, then seeing the earnest expression on their brother's face, decided they had better go see what was worrying him.
"We'll be back to talk more, yeah?" George said to the French girls.
"There's still lots more of our culture we've yet to share with you," Fred added with a wink.
The two of them walked off with Bill a few paces away from the clamor of the canopy until he rounded on them and spoke seriously,
"There's been some trouble with Fleur."
"What, having problems with the wifey already?" George scoffed.
"Don't tell me she's unsatisfied!" Fred chimed in, "You're a bloody Weasley! You have to uphold the family reputation!"
"There are certain expectations that come from being born from parents who fostered seven children, you know," George added.
"Oh will you two shut up? It's nothing like that," (Fred and George exchanged smirks), "No, she has gone and done something very dangerous and won't listen to reason to set it right."
"What has she done, placed a bid on Ravenclaw's vanity mirror?"
"Smashed all of Mum's Celestina Warbeck records?"
The twins were doubled over, cackling with laughter and leaning on each other for support, until, with a flick of Bill's wand, they were immediately silenced as their mouths sealed themselves shut.
"Now, listen numbskulls," Bill hissed at their shocked faces, "this is serious. She's gone and taken in a baby goblin."
He waited until he could see the realization set into their eyes before he released the spell, leaving them gasping and sputtering.
"A goblin!"
"Is she mental!"
"How did she get it?"
"Why would she want it?"
"Don't tell me she's kidnapped it!"
"No, no, don't be thick," Bill cut them off, "It's the son of a female goblin, Griena, who befriended Fleur a few weeks after she started working for Gringotts."
"A female goblin? Blimey, I didn't even know those existed!" Fred exclaimed.
"Of course they exist, you prat," Bill said impatiently, "how else do you think they could reproduce?"
The twins opened their mouths simultaneously to argue, but Bill cut them off with a wave of his hand.
"Look, it doesn't matter. The truth is that goblins are actually quite backwards according to our standards of gender equality. The reason neither of you have ever seen a female is that they aren't allowed to work any job that involves face-to-face interaction with customers. Their forced to work the most dangerous and undesirable occupations of the mines, like training the dragons and setting curses on the vaults," Bill spoke with disgust etched on his scarred, freckled face.
"Blimey…" began George, and Fred finished the thought for him,
"That's awful."
"Yeah, well anyway, this goblin, Griena, she took a liking to Fleur because she was sympathetic of her situation. They had her mining ignis gems, working twelve hours a day with no break."
Fred and George looked appalled, but Bill continued before they could interject.
"They had some sort of feminine connection. The female goblins are actually much friendlier than the males. But she became pregnant, never told who the father was, and Fleur took her in while she was in labor. The baby was healthy, but Griena didn't make it. That was a week ago."
"So… so Fleur took the baby then?" Fred asked solemnly.
"Exactly," Bill nodded, "She's named the baby Indien, and he's been at Shell Cottage ever since."
"Is it there now?" George questioned incredulously.
"No, of course not. We wouldn't leave it alone. We've set up a little playpen for him in the garage. He's really taken a liking to playing with Dad's rubber duck collection." Bill smiled and allowed himself a chuckle.
"Well Bill… I mean, you can't really blame her for wanting to look after him can you? After all, the thing's an orphan." Fred bit his lip and looked to his twin for support.
"Yeah, you can't just throw it out on the streets."
"You two just don't understand," Bill was shaking his head. "Do you realize what will happen if the rest of the goblins find out we're harboring one of their young? They would be ballistic! They would set their wrath against our whole family. You two have never seen an angry goblin, but trust me, it's not pretty. They have a history of doing unimaginable things to their own kind in the goblin wars; can you imagine what a band of tossed off goblins would do to a wizard?
"But I know of a good, decent goblin family that I met in Egypt. They would take him in, and raise him well. He'll be much better off with them than he would with us anyway. But Fleur won't have any of it. She seems dead set on keeping him…. So I need you two to help me convince her."
"You're asking us?"
"Why?" The twins looked utterly bemused. Bill had never asked any sort of favors from them before.
"I'm asking the entire family. She may be able to refute me, but if we are all adamant enough, she'll have to listen.
"Just please talk to her. See what you can do."
And with that, Bill was off, disappearing back under the canopy into the slowly dying party consuming the dance floor.
Fred and George looked at each other, and each of their lips spread into identical toothy grins. They then immediately put their heads together and started whispering excitedly.
"It sounds as though our elder brother is in quite a pickle."
"And the rest of the family as well."
"I do believe dear William wants us to accomplish this task by any means necessary."
"What we need to pacify Fleur is—"
"A distraction!" they both exclaimed the last part of their exchange together.
"Oh, and I know just the thing," beamed George.
"No you don't, because I do," Fred retorted.
"The love potion!" once again, they spoke simultaneously.
"You know, we really creep me out sometimes with the whole twin telepathy thing," Fred murmured.
"Forget about it. Do you really think it's ready though? We've only just finished the formula. We haven't even tested it yet."
"Well this will be a much less awkward test than us trying it on each other," Fred stated matter-of-factly.
He held his wand up high and spoke clearly, "Accio love-in-idleness!"
The air was perfectly still for a moment, then they could make out a small vile containing their newest love potion zooming over the top of the sparkling magical canopy and right into Fred's outstretched hand. The deep purple liquid splashed merrily in the glass at the sudden stop.
"Just one drop in each of her eyes, and she'll fall madly in love with the first living being she sees." Fred's smile was almost too big for his face as he held the vile aloft like it was the holy grail. George chuckled manically beside him.
"What should it be," he managed between giggles, "a snake? A garden knome? Aunt Murial?"
The twins looked around the garden. The party had officially ended now. The band was no longer playing, and the magical glow from the great canopy had been extinguished, so that the only remaining light came from the moon, stars, and fireflies that danced over the flowered shrubs. Guests were making their way to their designated sleeping tents that had just been magically erected several yards away.
Peering through this exodus, Fred spotted a gaggle of slender, feminine frames and platinum blonde hair. He immediately alerted George's attention to this sight, realizing that it was, in fact, Fleur being escorted to a tent by her cousins.
"Seems the misses can't hold her champagne," George whispered in his brother's ear.
"Where is Bill? Shouldn't she be going to their tent? Good Lord, it's the man's wedding night…. They must have had a bigger row than I thought."
"Don't complain. This makes things much easier for us. Come on."
They snuck over to the edge of the tent as quietly as they could, and, pressing their ears against the canvass, they heard a strange but beautiful harmony of voices.
"Are they… singing to her?" Fred whispered, looking totally bemused.
"Yeah, I think they are…" George listened more closely. "I can't understand what they're saying though. It's French."
They listened intently until the end of the song. It was strangely captivating. After it was over, the twins snapped out of their reverie and peered through the flaps of the tent to find Fleur alone in a fully furnished bedroom, much larger than what could be contained in a muggle tent, sleeping on an elaborate king-sized bed. A flap of canvas separated this room from the adjoining room, in which her cousins could be heard jabbering away in rapid French.
George leaned in close and whispered in Fred's ear, "You apply the potion. I'll go find a suitable candidate for her affection," and then he was off into the night, grinning like a madman.
"Fine," Fred hissed after him before creeping stealthily into the tent.
When he came to the edge of the bed, he uncorked the tiny vial, still in his hand, releasing an intoxicating aroma of violets and cherry pie. He tilted it carefully over Fleur's beautiful face, so that one drop fell onto each of her sealed eyelid. The potion simpered and evaporated in a haze, leaving the scent hanging heavy in the air as Fleur sighed and rolled over.
Fred noiselessly backed away from the bed and out of the tent just as the still night air was pierced by the most dreadfully awful singing he had ever heard.
"The ousel cock so black of hue,
With orange-tawny bill,
The throstle with his note so true,
The wren with little quill,-
Fred's fingers flew into his ears as he attempted to block out the horrible screeching that no-one in their right mind would call a song. His face was screwed up in disgust, but through his squinty eyes, he could see George jogging up to sit beside him. He too had his fingers in his ears (well, one ear and one hole), but his face was spread in a huge smile, and he looked like he was holding back suck forceful laughter, Fred worried his head might explode. Before he had time to relate any questions however, a flowery, heavily accented voice joined in the squaling,
"Oh what beautiful muzic! Eet iz like an angel!"
The tall, radiant figure of Fleur suddenly emerged from the tent, staring off in the direction of the horrible clamor with a look of deepest longing. Fred followed her gaze, and when his eyes met the object of her affection, he could not help but fall into fits of hushed giggles right along with his brother.
A being with the body of a small wizard wearing flowing, navy dress robes and the head of a donkey was swaying drunkenly on the path leading to the tents and singing his atrocious song at full volume.
"The finch, the sparrow and the lark,
The plain-song cuckoo gray,
Whose note full many a man doth mark,
And dares not answer nay;-
for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish
a bird? who would give a bird the lie, though he cry
'cuckoo' never so?"
Fred tore his attention away from this bizarre scene and whispered to his brother, "George, who is that?"
George was about to answer when at that moment, Fleur rushed to the monster and threw her arms around its neck, placing loving kisses all over its fury head and ears.
"What a lovely creature. You must zing again! My ears 'ave never 'eared such pleasing notes before. And my eyes are zimply enthralled when I look at you."
The creature looked utterly bemused at this treatment and did not say another word.
George finally managed to compose himself enough to divulge the beast's identity to Fred.
"I-it's Dedalus D-Diggle," he choked out, still clutching his ribs and shaking in silent laughter, "I-I met him still o-on the dance f-floor… he was pissed drunk and s-singing… I transfigured h-his head…didn't notice a thing!"
It was too perfect. Fleur was now ushering a blubbering Dedalus into her tent, and at the threshold stood her four gorgeous cousins, their faces etched in concern and revulsion. They took in the image of Fleur doting on this half-beast and immediately tried to wrench her away, back into bed. During their passionate struggle, rented with heated French exchanged back and forth, Fred and George slipped away to let things pan out for the time being.
They stopped at the edge of the garden, which had been magically enhanced with such a variety of trees, streams, and flowering shrubs in decoration for the wedding, that it was more like a forest now. As they laughed and congratulated themselves on a perfectly executed prank, another sound met their ears. It sounded distressed… angry. It was two voices arguing, and as they came closer, it became apparent it was Ron and Hermione. The twins locked eyes, and a look of understanding passed between them as they each held up their wands simultaneously and casted concealing charms on each other, just as Ron and Hermione rounded a corner and came into view.
"Ron, for the last time, please stop following me! I told you I need to find Harry."
"Hermione, no, please, you can't see him," said Ron looking exasperated and out of breath. "He's with Ginny. They went in there about twenty minutes ago," he gestured to the forest behind Hermione, "they're probably fucking."
Hermione winced at Ron's course and blunt language.
"I need Harry," she repeated. "I need to find him and tell him before it's too late."
"Tell him what?" beseeched Ron desperately.
"That I love him."
Ron looked like someone had slapped him across the face.
"No… you can't! Hermione I-I think I love you!"
Hermione closed her eyes and bit her lip for a second before opening them and focusing on Ron.
"Ron it's… it's not going to work between us," she said finally, dropping her gaze. Ron wore a pained expression on his face as his lips uttered some inaudible response.
"I'm sorry. I have to go," Hermione spoke firmly, turning on her heel and running into the forest, soon disappearing past the light of the fireflies. Ron just stood there for a minute, taking deep breaths and looking like he didn't know what to do. At last, he seemed to make up his mind about something as a determined expression settled onto his features and he plunged into the woods after Hermione.
A few seconds of stillness passed, and Fred and George lifted their enchantments off each other. They each wore identical evil grins.
"Well George, it seems there's still a bit of mischief to be done tonight."
"Right you are dear Fred, let's go have some fun."
In case any of you didn't read the title, the song comes from Shakspeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream.