CHAPTER 2

"What's this?"

"Oh- honey- please don't touch that-"

"-does it make the car go?"

"-Ron, darling, I need you to put on your seatbelt."

"My what?"

"WOW!"

"Please don't do that, Fred."

"It's George- how does this work?"

"Eckeltricity, dummy."

"Yeah, I know, but how?"

"I don't like this 'seat belt' - it's digging into my neck."

"George please quit playing-"

"OW! IT'S EATING ME! IT'S EATING ME!"

"Mrs. Wilson!"

"Honestly, child, let go of the button!"

"MY HAND IS STILL STUCK!"

Janice sighed, trying to gather her usual steel-strength nerves. She signaled and pulled over to the edge of the highway to set George's hand free from the electric window, and assist Ron in properly wearing his seatbelt- he'd managed to wrap it around his neck.

"Haven't you ever ridden in a car before?" she asked.

"Of course," said Ron, "Dad has one. It has window cranks, though."

"He tore out the 'seatbelts,'" George said from the backseat, "didn't know what they were for."

"What are they for?" asked Ginny, who sat between the twins.

"Muggle's have slippery arses," Fred told her.

"FRED!" Janice shrieked, as she pulled back into traffic, "Language! I don't want to hear that nonsense word out of your mouth again."

"Not so nice once she's got us away, is she?" said Ron darkly.

"I don't mean to be cross," said Janice in her most sincere tone, "It's just important that we watch our mouths. We don't want our new family to think we're bad little boys and girls, do we?"

The twins sniggered. Nobody seemed to have a reply, and Janice foolishly thought that she'd gotten through to them, and that they would behave from then on.

"Where are we going?" Ginny asked.

"To our offices. We'll have you speak individually with our counselors and place you with a family."

George snorted. "Who'd be thick enough take in the four of us?"

"You'll probably be separated, I'm afraid."

"Even him and I?"

"Not if we can help it, but it's a possibility."

"You Muggles are that cruel? You'd actually separate-"

"-now Fred, what did I just say about that word?"

"I don't remember. And I'm George."

"I said I don't want-"

"We're driving so fast," Fred said weakly, "Could you slow down?"

Janice pursed her lips. "I'm going the speed limit. If I go any slower, we'll get pulled over."

"By a police man?" asked Ron excitedly, "That would be wicked!"

"No, it most certainly would not-"

"Uh oh… Mrs. Wilson, you'd really better slow down," said George, "Ginny, switch places with me."

"Rubbish, George. I am not interested in getting a ticket. Don't move… you can't be moving around the car like that when it's moving!"

From the rearview mirror she could see George climbing over Ginny to Fred, who was hunched over slightly and seemed to be concentrating hard on something. "I'm warning you, you'd better stop this car- or open the window."

"That will waste the air conditioning- what are you doing?"

"Last chance." said George, then, after a moment, when Janice didn't slow down, "You asked for it, Mrs. Wilson," He pulled off his funny looking hat and managed to get it to Fred's mouth before he was sick all over the car.

"Gross!" said Ron as Fred heaved.

"Oh Fred!" cried Ginny.

"OH FRED!" shrieked Janice.

"That's it, Freds, get it all out-" George was saying, patting Fred on the back. Janice saw him deliberately move the hat to one side as his brother lurched one last time, getting vomit on her leather seat. "Oops," he giggled.

Once again Janice pulled off to the side of the road, not so smoothly this time, more like a irritated jerk. She put the car in park and glared at George.

"I warned you," he said indignantly, handing Fred a handkerchief, "Here, hold this for a moment, will you?"

Before she knew what was happening, she was holding the hat full of sick. All pretenses

abandoned, she let out a disgusted roar, kicked her door open and threw it out. "What on earth are we going to do about my seats!"

"I'm truly sorry about that, ma'am," Fred offered with a tiny smile, avoiding the mess as he got out of the car.

"Sorry's not going to clean it up, is it?" she spat.

"No need to get all irate," Ron said evenly, "He can't help it if he gets car sick."

"We aren't used to driving on the ground-"

"-for such long distances-"

"-or so jerkily. Our car flies."

"You might consider getting your socks replaced."

"Shocks," George corrected.

In spite of herself, Janice was feeling not only dizzy with anger, but ganged up on. She got out of the car and walked a little ways up the road. She counted to ten, then twenty, then thirty- but gosh darn it, counting wasn't going to replace her unbelievably expensive seat covers! She reminded herself just how sick these children were- illusions of flying cars and all. They were probably trying to irritate her because they were starving for attention, even negative attention; attention they never received from there despicable parents.

Her deflated head was swelling again. She was saving these poor children, and deserved sainthood for putting up with them. She and her iron will would survive and overcome, and these children would reap the benefits!

That is why she only laughed shrilly and shook her head in miserable disbelief when she went back to the car and found the children cleaning up with not only feminine protection they'd found in the glove box, but a recently dry-cleaned blouse.

You little bastards, she thought. But out loud, while gritting her teeth:

"OH, you silly children! I still owe money on that blouse! It was more than a week's pay."

"Well we weren't planning on keeping it," said Fred. He handed it back to her.

She took a deep, deep breath, tossed her insanely expensive Dolce & Gabbana puke rag out into the street next to the hat, and forced herself to smile. "Get back in the car, dearies. Shall we wait for you stomach to settle a little before we're off, Fred?"

"I think I'll be fine," Fred replied sweetly.

"Wonderful."

They crept up the highway for another five minutes or so, Janice looking back nervously at Fred every few seconds, who in turn smiled innocently at her. Then Ron announced he had to use the bathroom. She insist he hold it, as they would arrive at their destination soon, but he was squirming so badly that she feared once again for her seats. They pulled over at a nearby filling station.

"I would like you to stay here and not move while I take your brother to the restroom." She told them sternly.

"Could we get a little something to drink?" George asked.

"I'm sure you can wait until we get to the office."

"I'm feeling a little ill again," Fred said slyly, "Something fizzy might help."

"Fine," Janice dug in the pocket of her blazer and gave them a handful of change. She was mildly irritated to see them picking out sweets as she escorted Ron to the back of the store. When they came out she had to drag them away from the counter, as they were trying to haggle down the price of their items with an already harassed-looking cashier.

"GAH!" George yelped not ten minutes later, as they continued down the highway, "GAHBLABLECH!"

He was spitting little pink nuggets everywhere, and gasping like he was trying to bring up a hairball, and soon Fred had a hold of his brother's tongue and in a panic was senselessly jerking George's head back and forth by it, and Ron was bent over the back of the seat, both he and his sister beating him on the back. Janice pulled over the car again, and after much confusion, it became clear, much to her annoyance, that George had never before tried Pop-Rocks.

And finally, nearly an hour and a half behind schedule, they pulled in to the lot belonging to CSD. Janice urged them out quickly, very eager to hand them over to someone else.

It was a shame that she was in such a hurry and didn't mind the children lagging behind her, or she might have seen Fred casually pull out his wand and use it to scratch his back.

"How-?" Ron asked with a smile.

Fred smirked. "You didn't think I'd give Percy my real wand, did you?"