Chapter Eighteen: The Joke Shop
"Merlin, would you look at this place," said Fred in awe. "It's bloody huge."
He and George were standing in the middle of their premises in Diagon Alley. It was the very next day after their flight from Hogwarts. They had rented a room in The Leaky Cauldron for the moment.
The shop was a large, rectangular shaped building with a huge front window. The place itself was completely bare.
"Won't feel so huge once we get our stuff in here, put up some shelves," said George. "Speaking of which, getting our inventory up to speed is going to be a nightmare. And we'll have to hire a few people to work the registers and what. And then there's--"
"George, shut it," said Fred firmly. "Don't bore me with logistics."
"I'm just trying to be realistic, Twin," said George.
"Bugger realism," said Fred. "I just want to imagine for a minute. Shelves and shelves of our stuff, place crammed full of people throwing their money at us..."
He closed his eyes and tried to imagine such things, but all he could really imagine at the moment was Angelina.
"Damn," said Fred.
"Thinking about your girl, too?" said George miserably.
"How did Alicia take it, anyway?" said Fred. "You never told me."
"Not well," said George, kicking at an imaginary dust bunny on the floor. "We fought."
"You?" said Fred, surprised. George and Alicia never fought about anything.
"Yeah," said George. "It was a bloody nightmare. I've never seen her get so angry. Thought she was going to hurt me or something. She almost did, actually."
George shook his head, but then a smile crossed his face and he chuckled.
"What?" said Fred.
"I was just thinking, about Alicia and me, how we left things," said George, his grin widening.
Fred eyed him for a moment and then understood.
"Let me guess," he said. "One minute you two were screaming at each other and the next minute you were tearing each other's clothes off and shagging each other stupid."
"Something to that effect, yeah," said George. "Remind me to make Alicia angry more often. Best damn sex we've ever had."
"That's lovely, George," said Fred, rolling his eyes.
"Look who's talking, you randy git," said George.
"Yeah, yeah," said Fred. "Look, let's get going. We have supplies to buy, shelves to install. Might as well get started now."
"It would be nice to have the place in order before Mum finds out," said George.
"You mean it would be nice to have the place in order before she kills us," said Fred.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For the next week, Fred and George alternated between working on the joke shop and searching for a flat to share. They finally found one two streets away from their shop that was as perfect as they could have hoped for; they each had their own bedroom and made the third bedroom into an office. It was a smallish sort of place, with only one loo and a small galley kitchen and a tiny living room, and the rent was higher than they would have liked. They were going through Galleons very quickly; by the end of the week most of the Triwizard earnings Harry had given him were gone, and they were having to keep track of every Knut they spent.
Putting the shop together turned out to be exhausting work. Not only did Fred and George have to spend hours a day simply recreating their inventions, they had to arrange shelves, make signs, install cash registers, and the like. Then there was the process of moving into their flat; they had to buy furniture, which was expensive. They simply didn't have enough money to fully furnish their new home, so in the end they decided to buy only beds and add to the place once the shop itself opened.
In the meantime they maintained their mail-order business, which kept a small trickle of money coming in. Not enough to be remotely comfortable, but enough to live on. In any case, the twins were used to relative poverty; George jokingly referred to their current financial status as "living on the edge in true Weasley fashion."
In between all of this, Fred wrote letters to Angelina. He sent none of them, knowing that none would pass through Umbridge's letter screeners, but he wrote them anyway. It was the only way he knew how to feel close to her. He missed her terribly and only hoped she was doing all right. He hoped she missed him as much as he missed her.
George wasn't faring much better without Alicia around; the upshot of missing their girlfriends was that it inspired them to keep busy. Fred approached each day with a kind of maniacal focus. As long as he kept busy he didn't dwell on missing Angelina, missing their conversations, missing making love with her.
Ten days after leaving Hogwarts, the joke shop was nearly complete. Shelves were fully stocked with Fred and George's inventions. Colorful signs and placards filled the space and directed customers to specific types of merchandise. The sign out front boldly proclaimed their store's name.
Fred and George were in the process of checking inventory and going over their books when a sharp voice caused them to look up.
"So!"
Mrs. Weasley was standing there, and behind her were Mr. Weasley and Bill, both of whom were thin-lipped and silent. Mrs. Weasley was white-faced with rage.
"Uh," said Fred, "hi, Mum."
"Don't you 'hi Mum' me, Frederick Michael Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley shrilled. "Just what in the name of Merlin do you two think you are doing?"
"Molly--" Mr. Weasley began. Bill pursed his lips even tighter; it was obvious he was trying not to laugh. Fred glared at him.
"Be quiet, Arthur!" said Mrs. Weasley, not looking at her husband, her livid blue eyes staring holes into Fred and George. "Well, explain yourselves. And make it good."
Fred and George looked at each other.
"This is our shop," said Fred. "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes."
"I can see that," said Mrs. Weasley sharply.
"It's not quite done yet," said George. "We open this coming weekend."
"Oh, do you?" said Mrs. Weasley. "How...nice."
Her tone suggested that she didn't think their grand opening was at all nice.
"So," said Mrs. Weasley again, and she began to pace back and forth, her eyes on her twin sons. "THIS is the reason you left school. This...shop."
"One of the reasons, anyway," said George.
"Look, Mum--" Fred began.
"Don't you dare, Fred," said Mrs. Weasley. "I can't believe you would do this! Both of you! Leaving school! Turning a school corridor into a SWAMP?! Oh, yes, I got a letter first thing this morning telling me all about your little stunt. Are you aware that the teachers can't seem to get rid of that swamp? That Argus Filch is having to row students across your little muck- hole in a PUNT?!"
"Really?" said George eagerly.
"Excellent," said Fred, without thinking.
"It is NOT EXCELLENT!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "Do you have any idea how dangerous things are for your father and for Bill? How much trouble this Umbridge woman could make for them? It's bad enough that Ron was mixed-up in that Dumbledore's Army thing, that Harry was mixed up in it--"
"So were we," said Fred defiantly.
"Fred, what are you doing?" said George, through gritted teeth.
"No, George," said Fred, feeling his temper boil hot all of a sudden.
"Fred, you listen to me--" began Mrs. Weasley.
"No, YOU LISTEN!" Fred bellowed, so loudly and forcefully that Mrs. Weasley's eyes went as wide as saucers, Mr. Weasley blinked furiously, Bill closed his eyes and put his head in his hand, and George made a loud wincing noise.
Fred didn't care. He was tired of listening to his mother's tirades, tired of having to justify himself.
"George and I left school," he said, "because that Umbridge cow turned Hogwarts into a bloody...PRISON, all right? Nobody was learning anything, the teachers were always being 'inspected' by her. Oh yeah, and did I mention her detentions? Yeah, Lee served detention with her, and do you know what she did? Made him write lines with a special quill of hers, only that special quill cut his hand open and made him write lines in his own blood. I guess George and me were just lucky that we only got detentions with Snape this year."
There was a silence, and Mrs. Weasley stared open-mouthed at her son. For once, she seemed entirely incapable of speech. Fred, who was breathing hard, went on.
"I'm glad I was in Dumbledore's Army," he said, "I'm glad I was one of the people who stood up to that bitch. And I'm not sorry I left school. I'm not sorry that George and me got to make Umbridge taking over the school really difficult for her. She spent her first day as Headmistress running all over the school like an idiot thanks to us, and I'm bloody well GLAD. And another thing. George and me are NOT idiots, Mum. Just because we were never Head Boy, just because we didn't get fifty O.W.Ls doesn't make us idiots. We're damn good at inventing stuff, people like the stuff we make, and just because we're not going to be sitting at a desk in the Ministry doesn't mean we don't have any ambition. We've been wanting this damn place for two years, we've worked our arses off for it, we've EARNED it, dammit, and we're going to have it. It's what makes us happy. If you don't like the idea of having two sons who run a joke business, that's just too bloody bad. We can't live our lives the way you dictate, Mum, not anymore. We have to do what makes US happy, and we're going to do it whether you like it or not."
Fred's voice went hoarse as he finished his shouting, and he let out a great sigh and immediately felt a little horrified with himself. He'd never gone off on his mother like that. Ever.
He felt even more horrified when his mother's eyes filled with tears.
"Nice one, Fred," said George. "Maybe you should have let me do the talking."
"Molly," said Mr. Weasley gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. He glared at Fred.
"Is th-that what you think?" said Mrs. Weasley tearfully. "That I only c- care about Head Boy and your t-test scores?"
"Sometimes," said Fred. George punched him in the arm and gave him a murderous look.
"No," he said.
"I j-just wanted you two to try h-harder," said Mrs. Weasley, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes. "I know you're not idiots. You're very smart. I just wanted you to do well in school. Like Bill and Charlie and--"
"Percy?" Fred finished. Mrs. Weasley let out a sob.
"Fred, do you think maybe NOW you can shut it?" said George, as he, Mr. Weasley and Bill all glowered at him.
"Mum," said Fred gently, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. And you're right, George and me haven't made things easy on you and...we're sorry. We should have been more responsible. But...see, that's what we're doing now. Being responsible. Renting out this place and setting up a business and earning our way. George and me have a whole plan, okay? This wasn't done on a whim. You know it wasn't."
"Obviously," said Mrs. Weasley, but her tone was without anger or malice. "You've been sneaking around with this for almost two years, haven't you? Didn't listen to me when I told you not to. Even when I binned half your things you didn't listen to me. Stubborn little brats, the both of you."
"We take after you," said Fred, which earned him yet another punch in the arm from George. At this rate Fred's arm would be black and blue.
But Mrs. Weasley looked up at Fred and began to laugh. For a moment nobody did anything, they all simply stared at her, but as Mrs. Weasley's laughter became more raucous, the Weasley men joined in.
"Oh, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "There's really nothing I CAN do, is there? To make you change your minds?"
"No," said Fred.
"No," said George, a little hesitantly.
"What do you think of this?" said Mrs. Weasley, turning to her husband.
Mr. Weasley blanched a bit and Fred bit his lip to keep from laughing.
"Well, Molly, dear, they ARE of age," said Mr. Weasley. "And we've always said that in the end our children should do what makes them happy."
"Damn," said Mrs. Weasley, "we did say that, didn't we?"
"I'm afraid so," said Mr. Weasley smiling.
"Well," said Mrs. Weasley, turning briskly to Fred and George. "I'll be frank. I don't like it. This joke shop business. But your father is right. You're of age and you've earned the right to make a living the way you see fit."
"So...you're okay with it, then?" said Fred hopefully.
"Eventually I will be," said Mrs. Weasley. "I have to admit, boys, you...you've done quite a fair job with the place. Looks quite nice, actually."
"Thanks," said Fred and George together.
"And I WAS relieved to hear that you didn't get your seed money by engaging in any illegal activities," said Mrs. Weasley pointedly. "Though I do think Harry was far too generous, giving you his Triwizard earnings like that."
"Harry told you that?" said George.
"Ron did," said Mr. Weasley.
"I think Ron wanted to head off one of Mum's Howlers," said Bill.
"Oh, Bill," said Mrs. Weasley, rolling her eyes. "I don't ALWAYS send Howlers when I'm angry."
At this all three Weasley sons burst into laughter.
________________________________________________________________________
A/N: A huge thank you to all my faithful readers and reviewers, but I must single out Bee 11 for alerting me to some nasty plagiarism going on over at FictionAlley. Some git calling himself/herself TentaculaSeeds is posting my story "A Very Thin Line" as his/her own. I have since alerted FictionAlley to this. I can't tell you how much I appreciate being told about this--I've witnessed some plagiarism against a couple of other authors on this site and it's really disgusting. Imitation is not the sincerest form of flattery!
Oh yeah, and I'm still not done with THIS particular story. Lots of fluffy romance and naughtiness yet to come!
"Merlin, would you look at this place," said Fred in awe. "It's bloody huge."
He and George were standing in the middle of their premises in Diagon Alley. It was the very next day after their flight from Hogwarts. They had rented a room in The Leaky Cauldron for the moment.
The shop was a large, rectangular shaped building with a huge front window. The place itself was completely bare.
"Won't feel so huge once we get our stuff in here, put up some shelves," said George. "Speaking of which, getting our inventory up to speed is going to be a nightmare. And we'll have to hire a few people to work the registers and what. And then there's--"
"George, shut it," said Fred firmly. "Don't bore me with logistics."
"I'm just trying to be realistic, Twin," said George.
"Bugger realism," said Fred. "I just want to imagine for a minute. Shelves and shelves of our stuff, place crammed full of people throwing their money at us..."
He closed his eyes and tried to imagine such things, but all he could really imagine at the moment was Angelina.
"Damn," said Fred.
"Thinking about your girl, too?" said George miserably.
"How did Alicia take it, anyway?" said Fred. "You never told me."
"Not well," said George, kicking at an imaginary dust bunny on the floor. "We fought."
"You?" said Fred, surprised. George and Alicia never fought about anything.
"Yeah," said George. "It was a bloody nightmare. I've never seen her get so angry. Thought she was going to hurt me or something. She almost did, actually."
George shook his head, but then a smile crossed his face and he chuckled.
"What?" said Fred.
"I was just thinking, about Alicia and me, how we left things," said George, his grin widening.
Fred eyed him for a moment and then understood.
"Let me guess," he said. "One minute you two were screaming at each other and the next minute you were tearing each other's clothes off and shagging each other stupid."
"Something to that effect, yeah," said George. "Remind me to make Alicia angry more often. Best damn sex we've ever had."
"That's lovely, George," said Fred, rolling his eyes.
"Look who's talking, you randy git," said George.
"Yeah, yeah," said Fred. "Look, let's get going. We have supplies to buy, shelves to install. Might as well get started now."
"It would be nice to have the place in order before Mum finds out," said George.
"You mean it would be nice to have the place in order before she kills us," said Fred.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For the next week, Fred and George alternated between working on the joke shop and searching for a flat to share. They finally found one two streets away from their shop that was as perfect as they could have hoped for; they each had their own bedroom and made the third bedroom into an office. It was a smallish sort of place, with only one loo and a small galley kitchen and a tiny living room, and the rent was higher than they would have liked. They were going through Galleons very quickly; by the end of the week most of the Triwizard earnings Harry had given him were gone, and they were having to keep track of every Knut they spent.
Putting the shop together turned out to be exhausting work. Not only did Fred and George have to spend hours a day simply recreating their inventions, they had to arrange shelves, make signs, install cash registers, and the like. Then there was the process of moving into their flat; they had to buy furniture, which was expensive. They simply didn't have enough money to fully furnish their new home, so in the end they decided to buy only beds and add to the place once the shop itself opened.
In the meantime they maintained their mail-order business, which kept a small trickle of money coming in. Not enough to be remotely comfortable, but enough to live on. In any case, the twins were used to relative poverty; George jokingly referred to their current financial status as "living on the edge in true Weasley fashion."
In between all of this, Fred wrote letters to Angelina. He sent none of them, knowing that none would pass through Umbridge's letter screeners, but he wrote them anyway. It was the only way he knew how to feel close to her. He missed her terribly and only hoped she was doing all right. He hoped she missed him as much as he missed her.
George wasn't faring much better without Alicia around; the upshot of missing their girlfriends was that it inspired them to keep busy. Fred approached each day with a kind of maniacal focus. As long as he kept busy he didn't dwell on missing Angelina, missing their conversations, missing making love with her.
Ten days after leaving Hogwarts, the joke shop was nearly complete. Shelves were fully stocked with Fred and George's inventions. Colorful signs and placards filled the space and directed customers to specific types of merchandise. The sign out front boldly proclaimed their store's name.
Fred and George were in the process of checking inventory and going over their books when a sharp voice caused them to look up.
"So!"
Mrs. Weasley was standing there, and behind her were Mr. Weasley and Bill, both of whom were thin-lipped and silent. Mrs. Weasley was white-faced with rage.
"Uh," said Fred, "hi, Mum."
"Don't you 'hi Mum' me, Frederick Michael Weasley!" Mrs. Weasley shrilled. "Just what in the name of Merlin do you two think you are doing?"
"Molly--" Mr. Weasley began. Bill pursed his lips even tighter; it was obvious he was trying not to laugh. Fred glared at him.
"Be quiet, Arthur!" said Mrs. Weasley, not looking at her husband, her livid blue eyes staring holes into Fred and George. "Well, explain yourselves. And make it good."
Fred and George looked at each other.
"This is our shop," said Fred. "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes."
"I can see that," said Mrs. Weasley sharply.
"It's not quite done yet," said George. "We open this coming weekend."
"Oh, do you?" said Mrs. Weasley. "How...nice."
Her tone suggested that she didn't think their grand opening was at all nice.
"So," said Mrs. Weasley again, and she began to pace back and forth, her eyes on her twin sons. "THIS is the reason you left school. This...shop."
"One of the reasons, anyway," said George.
"Look, Mum--" Fred began.
"Don't you dare, Fred," said Mrs. Weasley. "I can't believe you would do this! Both of you! Leaving school! Turning a school corridor into a SWAMP?! Oh, yes, I got a letter first thing this morning telling me all about your little stunt. Are you aware that the teachers can't seem to get rid of that swamp? That Argus Filch is having to row students across your little muck- hole in a PUNT?!"
"Really?" said George eagerly.
"Excellent," said Fred, without thinking.
"It is NOT EXCELLENT!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "Do you have any idea how dangerous things are for your father and for Bill? How much trouble this Umbridge woman could make for them? It's bad enough that Ron was mixed-up in that Dumbledore's Army thing, that Harry was mixed up in it--"
"So were we," said Fred defiantly.
"Fred, what are you doing?" said George, through gritted teeth.
"No, George," said Fred, feeling his temper boil hot all of a sudden.
"Fred, you listen to me--" began Mrs. Weasley.
"No, YOU LISTEN!" Fred bellowed, so loudly and forcefully that Mrs. Weasley's eyes went as wide as saucers, Mr. Weasley blinked furiously, Bill closed his eyes and put his head in his hand, and George made a loud wincing noise.
Fred didn't care. He was tired of listening to his mother's tirades, tired of having to justify himself.
"George and I left school," he said, "because that Umbridge cow turned Hogwarts into a bloody...PRISON, all right? Nobody was learning anything, the teachers were always being 'inspected' by her. Oh yeah, and did I mention her detentions? Yeah, Lee served detention with her, and do you know what she did? Made him write lines with a special quill of hers, only that special quill cut his hand open and made him write lines in his own blood. I guess George and me were just lucky that we only got detentions with Snape this year."
There was a silence, and Mrs. Weasley stared open-mouthed at her son. For once, she seemed entirely incapable of speech. Fred, who was breathing hard, went on.
"I'm glad I was in Dumbledore's Army," he said, "I'm glad I was one of the people who stood up to that bitch. And I'm not sorry I left school. I'm not sorry that George and me got to make Umbridge taking over the school really difficult for her. She spent her first day as Headmistress running all over the school like an idiot thanks to us, and I'm bloody well GLAD. And another thing. George and me are NOT idiots, Mum. Just because we were never Head Boy, just because we didn't get fifty O.W.Ls doesn't make us idiots. We're damn good at inventing stuff, people like the stuff we make, and just because we're not going to be sitting at a desk in the Ministry doesn't mean we don't have any ambition. We've been wanting this damn place for two years, we've worked our arses off for it, we've EARNED it, dammit, and we're going to have it. It's what makes us happy. If you don't like the idea of having two sons who run a joke business, that's just too bloody bad. We can't live our lives the way you dictate, Mum, not anymore. We have to do what makes US happy, and we're going to do it whether you like it or not."
Fred's voice went hoarse as he finished his shouting, and he let out a great sigh and immediately felt a little horrified with himself. He'd never gone off on his mother like that. Ever.
He felt even more horrified when his mother's eyes filled with tears.
"Nice one, Fred," said George. "Maybe you should have let me do the talking."
"Molly," said Mr. Weasley gently, putting a hand on her shoulder. He glared at Fred.
"Is th-that what you think?" said Mrs. Weasley tearfully. "That I only c- care about Head Boy and your t-test scores?"
"Sometimes," said Fred. George punched him in the arm and gave him a murderous look.
"No," he said.
"I j-just wanted you two to try h-harder," said Mrs. Weasley, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing at her eyes. "I know you're not idiots. You're very smart. I just wanted you to do well in school. Like Bill and Charlie and--"
"Percy?" Fred finished. Mrs. Weasley let out a sob.
"Fred, do you think maybe NOW you can shut it?" said George, as he, Mr. Weasley and Bill all glowered at him.
"Mum," said Fred gently, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. And you're right, George and me haven't made things easy on you and...we're sorry. We should have been more responsible. But...see, that's what we're doing now. Being responsible. Renting out this place and setting up a business and earning our way. George and me have a whole plan, okay? This wasn't done on a whim. You know it wasn't."
"Obviously," said Mrs. Weasley, but her tone was without anger or malice. "You've been sneaking around with this for almost two years, haven't you? Didn't listen to me when I told you not to. Even when I binned half your things you didn't listen to me. Stubborn little brats, the both of you."
"We take after you," said Fred, which earned him yet another punch in the arm from George. At this rate Fred's arm would be black and blue.
But Mrs. Weasley looked up at Fred and began to laugh. For a moment nobody did anything, they all simply stared at her, but as Mrs. Weasley's laughter became more raucous, the Weasley men joined in.
"Oh, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. "There's really nothing I CAN do, is there? To make you change your minds?"
"No," said Fred.
"No," said George, a little hesitantly.
"What do you think of this?" said Mrs. Weasley, turning to her husband.
Mr. Weasley blanched a bit and Fred bit his lip to keep from laughing.
"Well, Molly, dear, they ARE of age," said Mr. Weasley. "And we've always said that in the end our children should do what makes them happy."
"Damn," said Mrs. Weasley, "we did say that, didn't we?"
"I'm afraid so," said Mr. Weasley smiling.
"Well," said Mrs. Weasley, turning briskly to Fred and George. "I'll be frank. I don't like it. This joke shop business. But your father is right. You're of age and you've earned the right to make a living the way you see fit."
"So...you're okay with it, then?" said Fred hopefully.
"Eventually I will be," said Mrs. Weasley. "I have to admit, boys, you...you've done quite a fair job with the place. Looks quite nice, actually."
"Thanks," said Fred and George together.
"And I WAS relieved to hear that you didn't get your seed money by engaging in any illegal activities," said Mrs. Weasley pointedly. "Though I do think Harry was far too generous, giving you his Triwizard earnings like that."
"Harry told you that?" said George.
"Ron did," said Mr. Weasley.
"I think Ron wanted to head off one of Mum's Howlers," said Bill.
"Oh, Bill," said Mrs. Weasley, rolling her eyes. "I don't ALWAYS send Howlers when I'm angry."
At this all three Weasley sons burst into laughter.
________________________________________________________________________
A/N: A huge thank you to all my faithful readers and reviewers, but I must single out Bee 11 for alerting me to some nasty plagiarism going on over at FictionAlley. Some git calling himself/herself TentaculaSeeds is posting my story "A Very Thin Line" as his/her own. I have since alerted FictionAlley to this. I can't tell you how much I appreciate being told about this--I've witnessed some plagiarism against a couple of other authors on this site and it's really disgusting. Imitation is not the sincerest form of flattery!
Oh yeah, and I'm still not done with THIS particular story. Lots of fluffy romance and naughtiness yet to come!