Disclaimer: Harry Potter and company belong to J.K. Rowling.
Order of the Pranksters
Chapter Two
At a wooden table in the middle of spotless kitchen, Hermione Granger sat pretending to read the newspaper. Her tea cup and breakfast plate had already been washed, dried, and put away. Her jacket was waiting in a chair away and her shoes were on. The clock ticked as Hermione tried to read the newspaper and forget that it was 10:08, and that the Weasleys were late. Hermione had said her good byes to her parents earlier that morning. Everything was taken care of; it was time to leave.
Ding-Dong! The doorbell rang and Hermione jumped up from the table to answer it. Opening the door, she saw Fred and George Weasley, dressed from head to toe in biker regalia, standing on her front doorstep.
"Oy, Hermione! Nice to see you again. Looking brilliant as always, eh?" Fred (or was that George?) said.
George (maybe Fred?) looked strangely at his twin after his greeting before turning to grin and ask, "So, ready for a week of complete and udder chaos?"
Hermione blushed at probably Fred's greeting and returned probably George's cheery, I'm- up-to-mischief grin. "Thanks, you guys," she answered. "I love the biker gear. The neighbors will be shocked that I let you 'hell-raisers' in my house." Both Weasleys smirked. "Well, come on in!" Hermione winked at them as she stepped aside for Fred and George to enter.
"Where's the rest of the family?" Hermione asked.
"Mum's got Ron and Ginny slaving away doing chores, Dad's at work, and Charlie and Bill aren't going to be home until Christmas," probably George answered.
Hermione's brow crinkled when she realized Percy had not even been mentioned. In a tentative voice, she asked, "What about Percy? Have things been resolved?"
Hermione watched as probably Fred's face flickered with anger and probably George's eyes turned an icier blue. George, or at least she thought it was George, broke the silence. "He's apologized in his own snooty arse way. Still lives in London. Fred and I don't trust him." Fred shifted on his feet at George's words and looked down the hallway. Seeing Hermione's bags, he strode to get them.
Hermione decided it was time to change the subject and directed her question to the remaining Weasley, "So, you're George, then?" she asked.
George turned back into his chipper self at her question. "Yes. Yes, I am. I'll let you in on a well kept secret, Hermione, since you'll be joining our Order. There is a way to tell us part."
" And what, pray tell, is that?"
He smirked. "I've got bigger hands; Fred's hair sticks up straighter. He's also more up front about certain things." George's eyes started to drift downwards from her face and as he continued in a lower, more grumbly voice, "I can be more, much more... subtle."
Hermione's face turned strawberry red. It seemed as if she had two hormonal Weasleys on her hands. She slapped George on the arm saying, "Stop leering. Let's go. And I want the details on this Order, you know."
Fred strode up to the two, various bags in hand and Hermione's trunk drifting behind him. "Here, George, take this trunk. Can't have it floating in front of the muggles." Turning towards Hermione, he said, "Ask away. We didn't protest playing chauffer because we knew you would have ...numerous questions. I bet you think of questions as often as Draco Malfoy looks into a mirror." Hermione huffed as he walked by her.
"So, what pranks have been pulled? And who has been in it? Are there any traditions? How often will we meet? And-"
"Whew! Slow down! Four's enough for now," George said. He took Hermione by the arm and led her to their sleek black Harley motorcycles. It seemed as if the joke business had continued to reap abundant rewards. Fred opened the second seat on his bike and looked around, making sure no muggle was the wiser before heaving in Hermione's trunk. George grabbed Hermione a helmet and a leather jacket from his bike. Handing it to Hermione, he said, "We'll talk along the way. These helmets are rigged to link between the three of us."
The three hopped on the bikes and roared off, disturbing the birds in the trees and interupting the quiet of the neighborhood. It was a sight to see; two well built ruffian boys and one girl, her lavish curls streaming behind her, heading towards open roads. Moments later, a sharp pop reverberated around the once-again quiet street.
Author's Notes: Thank you to Desert Rose 6 for betaing, and my 4 other reveiwers. : ) This chapter isn't very long (sorry!) but I decided to post it because life is busy and I don't have much time to write. When I get a scene, I'll probably put it up. Please review! Even flames! It is an important part of the writing process- reader response.
Order of the Pranksters
Chapter Two
At a wooden table in the middle of spotless kitchen, Hermione Granger sat pretending to read the newspaper. Her tea cup and breakfast plate had already been washed, dried, and put away. Her jacket was waiting in a chair away and her shoes were on. The clock ticked as Hermione tried to read the newspaper and forget that it was 10:08, and that the Weasleys were late. Hermione had said her good byes to her parents earlier that morning. Everything was taken care of; it was time to leave.
Ding-Dong! The doorbell rang and Hermione jumped up from the table to answer it. Opening the door, she saw Fred and George Weasley, dressed from head to toe in biker regalia, standing on her front doorstep.
"Oy, Hermione! Nice to see you again. Looking brilliant as always, eh?" Fred (or was that George?) said.
George (maybe Fred?) looked strangely at his twin after his greeting before turning to grin and ask, "So, ready for a week of complete and udder chaos?"
Hermione blushed at probably Fred's greeting and returned probably George's cheery, I'm- up-to-mischief grin. "Thanks, you guys," she answered. "I love the biker gear. The neighbors will be shocked that I let you 'hell-raisers' in my house." Both Weasleys smirked. "Well, come on in!" Hermione winked at them as she stepped aside for Fred and George to enter.
"Where's the rest of the family?" Hermione asked.
"Mum's got Ron and Ginny slaving away doing chores, Dad's at work, and Charlie and Bill aren't going to be home until Christmas," probably George answered.
Hermione's brow crinkled when she realized Percy had not even been mentioned. In a tentative voice, she asked, "What about Percy? Have things been resolved?"
Hermione watched as probably Fred's face flickered with anger and probably George's eyes turned an icier blue. George, or at least she thought it was George, broke the silence. "He's apologized in his own snooty arse way. Still lives in London. Fred and I don't trust him." Fred shifted on his feet at George's words and looked down the hallway. Seeing Hermione's bags, he strode to get them.
Hermione decided it was time to change the subject and directed her question to the remaining Weasley, "So, you're George, then?" she asked.
George turned back into his chipper self at her question. "Yes. Yes, I am. I'll let you in on a well kept secret, Hermione, since you'll be joining our Order. There is a way to tell us part."
" And what, pray tell, is that?"
He smirked. "I've got bigger hands; Fred's hair sticks up straighter. He's also more up front about certain things." George's eyes started to drift downwards from her face and as he continued in a lower, more grumbly voice, "I can be more, much more... subtle."
Hermione's face turned strawberry red. It seemed as if she had two hormonal Weasleys on her hands. She slapped George on the arm saying, "Stop leering. Let's go. And I want the details on this Order, you know."
Fred strode up to the two, various bags in hand and Hermione's trunk drifting behind him. "Here, George, take this trunk. Can't have it floating in front of the muggles." Turning towards Hermione, he said, "Ask away. We didn't protest playing chauffer because we knew you would have ...numerous questions. I bet you think of questions as often as Draco Malfoy looks into a mirror." Hermione huffed as he walked by her.
"So, what pranks have been pulled? And who has been in it? Are there any traditions? How often will we meet? And-"
"Whew! Slow down! Four's enough for now," George said. He took Hermione by the arm and led her to their sleek black Harley motorcycles. It seemed as if the joke business had continued to reap abundant rewards. Fred opened the second seat on his bike and looked around, making sure no muggle was the wiser before heaving in Hermione's trunk. George grabbed Hermione a helmet and a leather jacket from his bike. Handing it to Hermione, he said, "We'll talk along the way. These helmets are rigged to link between the three of us."
The three hopped on the bikes and roared off, disturbing the birds in the trees and interupting the quiet of the neighborhood. It was a sight to see; two well built ruffian boys and one girl, her lavish curls streaming behind her, heading towards open roads. Moments later, a sharp pop reverberated around the once-again quiet street.
Author's Notes: Thank you to Desert Rose 6 for betaing, and my 4 other reveiwers. : ) This chapter isn't very long (sorry!) but I decided to post it because life is busy and I don't have much time to write. When I get a scene, I'll probably put it up. Please review! Even flames! It is an important part of the writing process- reader response.