A/N: This is going to be a shorter, lighter story than A Boy, Lost. I wanted to laugh—and I had this story idea—so here's the first installment. Let me know if you think it's worth continuing.

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XIXIX "The Powder of Love" XIXIX

"Gred?"

"Yes, Forge?"

Fred Weasley came bounding into the kitchen and plopped himself in the chair across from his twin brother George, who looked up from the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. Fred pulled a face and leaned forward to extract the offending reading material from the hands of his twin.

"Honestly, George, why do you read this smut, this filth, this…"

"Good one, today, actually—featuring our favorite Boy Wonder."

Fred glanced down and read the headlines aloud, "One Year Since Golden Boy Vanquished You-Know-Who, and Everyone is Still Really Pleased. Blech! What garbage! But speaking of the Boy Who Funded Our First Shoppe…" Fred paused to flash a vicious smile, "Don't you think it's been just a bit too long since we last pranked him?"

George cocked his head to the side to consider. "As a matter of fact, you're right! It's been months! We've been—"

"Sleeping on the job. Well, no more, my dear brother!" He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small sack and whispered conspiratorially, "Feast your eyes on the latest, greatest, Weasley Wizard Wheezes prank powder!"

The glint in his eye was catching. George leaned forward, salivating at the excitement of a coming prank. "What does it do?" he asked.

Fred slouched back and waved his hand in a blasé manner. "Well that is the thing, isn't? What does it do?"

George grinned. "Meaning you haven't tested it yet, and you—"

"Need a guinea pig," agreed Fred. "And that's where our lovely Mr. Potter comes in!"

"Okay then, what is it supposed to do?" qualified George.

Fred leaned in once again. "It's a love potion. But it only works on people you hate."

"It makes people you hate love you?"

"No, no, no! It makes you love them! Except maybe 'love' is a strong word. Hmm, what's the word I'm looking for?" asked Fred, tapping his chin.

"Lust?" George supplied, no fool to Fred's innocent play.

Fred laughed. "Hornier than a satyr in spring! And these um, shall we say 'amorous' feelings are directly proportional to the base level of hatred—so the more you hate them, the more you want them!" he declared triumphantly, but then added, "At least, that's what it's supposed to do. Of course, I'd test it myself, but I don't hate anyone—except Lucius Malfoy, and I'm not about to go scampering off to Azkaban to see if he fancies a quick one."

George nodded, "Say no more, brother dear." He folded his hands on the table and took on a more business-like tone. "But do tell me about this promised prank."

Fred bowed his head. "With pleasure. Stage one—we coerce friends of the two people currently enrolled in Hogwarts who most notably hate each other—"

"Not Draco Malfoy?!" choked George. When Fred nodded, he screamed in laughter.

"We coerce their friends to tamper with their food supply just slightly," continued Fred loudly, but George only laughed harder. "Then we wait for a good public snog to occur—" George fell out of his chair. "And then, we market our product, with proven results."

"Harry will kill us!" said George, carefully crawling back into his chair after regaining himself a bit.

Fred winked. "Only if we get caught."

XIXIX

"So, I assume we are to enlist the help of our dear fellow prankster, the young Lady Weasley," said George as he and Fred carefully packaged the Powder of Love, as they were currently calling it.

"You assume correctly," agreed Fred. "Our youngest sister Ginny will most certainly be a party to our high jinx, as she is a close, personal friend of our target, and therefore has access to his food for tainting purposes."

"And who might our Slytherin contact be?"

Fred smiled. "That would be our good friend Blaise Zabini."

"Blaise?" asked George, stunned. He had expected Crabbe or Goyle, as they were dimwitted enough to buy any excuse the Weasley twins might make up for the necessity of secretly tampering with Draco's food, or perhaps one of the younger Slytherin students seeking revenge against Draco's notoriously bad temper—but Blaise Zabini?! "He's far too clever," argued George. "He's not a trouble maker, and last I heard, he and Draco were still in good graces."

"Which is why we use blackmail," said Fred off-handedly.

George narrowed his brow. "We don't have any blackmail against him," he said reasonably.

Fred looked highly offended. "We didn't," he admitted. "But then I made some." He walked to his desk, opened his top drawer that was charmed to only open for himself or George, and pulled out a stack of glossy pictures. He handed one to his twin.

George's eyes bulged and his jaw dropped as he stared at the picture. "You've got to be kidding me!" he exclaimed. "There is NO WAY!"

He was staring at a moving, and very graphic, wizard's photograph of Blaise Zabini caught in the act of a threesome with Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle—the two largest and most disgusting people George had ever laid eyes on. George turned back to Fred and stammered, "This is faked, right?"

"No, no, no!" said Fred. "The picture is one hundred percent real, as are all these others." He held up the stack. "But the characters in the photo are courtesy of a little bit of Polyjuice Potion…"

George laughed. "Of course, his classmates wouldn't care…"

"Nor would his mum," finished Fred.

"So who is it really?"

Fred gathered up the photos and made a lot of noise while shoving them back in the drawer, all the while mumbling, "Those twins we met in Brussels."

George's face fell. "What?! You had them both?! Without sharing?!"

Fred turned around with a pained expression. "I needed them, George—for the prank to work. You understand, right?" he pleaded.

George shot him a glare, but Fred could tell he was already forgiven, so he added, "Anyway, I don't think those chickies are really our type. They actually seemed to like being Crabbe and Goyle—they keep calling wanting to have another go."

George sulked as he continued to package the Powder. "When does this prank start?" he finally mumbled.

Fred grinned, glad the conversation was back on comfortable ground.

"Tomorrow!"

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