"We have to remember at 6:30 is when the feast starts. It ends at 7:15. Students sleep at 10:15. That gives us three hours," said Fred, leaning against the canopy post as he lounged on his bed. George was lying down on the bed next to him, with a folder open on his lap, revealing parchment with notes scribbled furiously down. George took out a single paper delicately.
"At exactly 7:16, you will leave the great hall fast. I will have already left. Meet me at the second floor boys bathroom. You read me?"
Fred nodded.
George continued: "I will have the potion brewed by then. We each take a vial and find Crabbe and Goyle—"
"What about Malfoy?"
George grinned.
"I overheard Malfoy talking with Pansy about the Halloween feast. They'll be too busy after the feast to pay attention to dumb and dumber,"
Fred's eyebrow rose.
"Bad boy Malfoy...continue,"
"We find Crabbe and Goyle, we nab 'em, and we screw around using a spell I found in the restricted section that's like the Imperius curse. And then we give them a few drops of the potion. The potion will last for exactly three hours. We'll send Crabbe out to find Ron and Goyle to Harry,"
"And how exactly will that work? How do we know they'll be alone?"
George chuckled.
"Taken care of. Five minutes before the feast, two owls will arrive in turn to the boys, telling them when and where they should be after the feast. Trust me, they'll go with what I've written on those notes,"
"I love the way you think," said Fred.
"That's all I got," said George, closing his notebook.
"Now. How to get Hermione and Ginny to find them and unleash all hell,"
"I dunno," said George, "I spent hours on the actual timing and got caught up,"
"No worries," said Fred, "I've got an idea. They'll be wondering where their boys are, right?"
"Right," said George.
"Why don't we just tell them?"
"Clever, you dirty, rotten, boy," said George, rubbing his hands together.
"And while you slaved away at the details, I sketched a few ideas for, ahem, outfits, for our lovely sizzling pair,"
"Dirty and rotten. I should spank you," laughed George.
Fred whipped out a dirty, folded page from his robes. George took a quick look. There were corsets and fishnets, high heels and short skirts, and some clothing that was too shameful for even the sleaziest of porn stars. George nodded with satisfaction.
"I particularly like this one," said George, pointing to a mannequin in a sleek, black ball gown, cropped at the thighs and cut at the bosom to show cleavage, "And this one," George pointed to a mannequin wearing just a frilly red bra and knickers.
"Odd. I fancy those too. Fancied them so much, I went out and ordered them on a whim from a catalog I snagged from Lavender's bag," said Fred, crossing his arms triumphantly.
"Not Lavender,"
"The very one,"
"Naughty girl,"