Title: Fireworks
Author: Emmylou
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its characters and concepts, are the creation of JK Rowling.
Rating: PG
Summary: Angelina and Fred's relationship is tested when they travel to Egypt on business for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
ooo
Fred had bounced around eagerly all morning, clearly waiting for lunchtime to begin. When Mrs. Donkor and Pili appeared with large trays he was only steps behind them as they climbed up to the highest staircases. Eventually, when they reached the highest point and the stairs stopped, Mrs. Donkor tapped the floor with the heel of her shoe twice and a long thin ladder dropped out of a hatchway above them.
The trays floated up first, then Mrs. Donkor and Pili climbed next, Fred seconds behind them. Donkor prodded her forwards.
Angelina had never liked ladders, but she climbed up as daintily as she could manage.
The room she reached must have been the largest in the house, and even then you could have squeezed it into Fred and Angelina's bedroom at home twice. A large four poster bed took up much of the room and crammed against the bottom of the bed was a dining table with four chairs. To the right of the bed was a dark wooded bureau, carefully locked up.
Mrs. Donkor set down her tray and waddled over to the curtains, which she ripped open to illuminate the dusky room. Pili laid out glasses, plates of food, jugs of water, and a bottle of wine.
"My father finds that English food disagrees with him," said Donkor apologetically. "However, if you do not like the food my wife will be glad to bring you something better."
Mrs. Donkor nodded fretfully, before taking Pili and leading her away.
Donkor strode over to his father and spoke in the loud cheery voice people use when they are unfamiliar with talking to the elderly. "Father! How are we today? I have brought Weezly to see you at last! We are all going to dine together!"
The man in the bed probably looked older than he was. His body was portly, but nowhere near as fat as his son and although his hands trembled his arms hid muscles. His hair was white, but his face was less wrinkled than Angelina would have expected. He held an expression of a sulky child forced to go to bed early.
"What of the robbery?" he wheezed, in a voice so weak it surely could not be real.
Donkor clapped his hands together. "None of my papers were taken and Weezley assures me that his method of protecting his work kept his safe. I think we scared them away when we returned!"
The man made no acknowledgement of his son's words, but climbed out of bed, slapping his son's helpful hands away. "We dine now," he said.
He made several shaking steps towards his chair and seems to practically fall into it. But Angelina noted that he spooned spiced lamb onto his plate with un-trembling, confident moves.
Donkor moved over to Fred and clapped him on the back. "This is Fred Weezley, he and his brother will revolutionise our business!"
"It's an honour, sir!" said Fred. He reached across the table to wring the man's hand and was treated to a stony glare.
"This is my girlfriend, Angelina Johnson," he said hastily, pulling his hand away
Mr. Donkor nodded to her. The group sat in silence to dine on lamb cuts and Pita bread, gulping down wine or water depending on how nervous they were.
Donkor was already red in the face from his drinks and frequently tried to start conversation, only to have his father's surly silence make his words fade in his mouth.
When everyone seemed to have finished, Angelina started to relax now she saw that the business talk could begin and the uncomfortable silence would stop, but it turned out that Donkor's father refused to see a left-over uneaten. He tipped the rest of the bread and the meat onto his plate, scraping the scraps from the other's plates, and tipped the dregs of water and wine into his own glasses. The group watched, both fascinated and bored as the man steadfastly and achingly slowly ate the remains.
Finally no food remained and Mr. Donkor pushed his plate away. He turned and looked around the table as if to gather his thoughts, then began to speak in his raspy voice.
"The robbery has made me rethink my business plans," said the elder man.
"Absolutely!" said Donkor. He slammed his fist down onto the table. "We must improve security!"
Mr. Donkor turned his head to his son. "You are an idiot," he said.
Donkor sat shocked for a moment and then immediately began babbling. "Yes, yes, of course, but why? Am I really? Have I done something to displease you?"
"Zonko steals a few petty fireworks and you sack people. You stop business. I am no fool. You climb up here and you tell me pretty lies about how many fireworks you've made and how much money we bring in when you produce maybe five boxes a day and are reduced to selling them in markets. Zonko is long out of business – the Weezley brothers have made him so. And even then you blame everyone but yourself. Spies everywhere. Cannot risk taking on new staff. Cannot afford, more like. I look at our books and find that we are in debt. Stupid decisions and pointless lies. You alone have driven this company to the ground."
Donkor thrust a fat finger towards Fred, "Weezley is financing-"
"You ask a stranger for money?" barked his father. "In exchange for what? A name? You have deceived him if you think that we can improve his business in any way. Once Weezley knows the true cost I have no doubt he shall return home immediately."
"I said we would finance the basics – initial wages for staff, the stuff we need to make the fireworks, that sort of thing," said Fred hastily.
"And what about the five hundred Galleons my son owes to various debtors?" spat Mr. Donkor. "Did you agree to pay those too?"
Angelina and Fred turned to look at Donkor in horror. The man himself looked near tears.
"We needed money, but every time a product neared completion there were setbacks! Problems! Small loans were nothing when we could be making money in weeks."
"And when you finally ran out of options you called in the new boys on the block?" said Fred.
"A-a partnership, of sorts," said Donkor imploringly. "You put Zonko out of business – you and your brother were – are the men to save us!"
He reached out and wrung Fred's hand in the way Fred had reached for his father's.
"How much would it take?" asked Fred to Mr. Donkor.
The old man glared at his son. "The company could not be saved with less than a thousand galleons."
Fred looked thoughtful. "The Donkor name is famous all over the magical world…at one time it was illegal for any firework to enter Brazil unless it was made by Donkor. Zonko wiped you out of England but even eight years ago you still had business in France and Russia. I know. I went through the trunks in the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang quarters that year at school. Your name is probably worth more than your company…" Angelina saw the fires of business burning in Fred's eyes again. "Retro products…we could re-release all your classics…"
"This is foolish," the old man thumped the table. "Money, Weezley, any plans need money. We shall have to sell the factory to pay off our debtors alone. I recommend you return home and I shall have to think of a way to reimburse you for your visit."
"Weezley, it is a beautiful dream!" said Donkor, who was grasping at this last chance with greedy eyes. "Do you have the money to make it happen?"
Fred looked at Donkor like he was stupid. "Don't be daft. All our yearly profits have been sunk back into the business. We budgeted two hundred galleons for this trip. We won't have any more to play with until next July."
"Two hundred galleons! That is all!" wailed Donkor.
"Unless Weezley carries a Niffler about his person, we are sunk," said Donkor.
The group sat hunched up at the table. Angelina was sorry for the family. Bad luck had damaged their business and then incompetence had ruined it. Maybe there were spies sabotaging any new plans, but it all seemed a hopeless business.
"That's it!" shouted Fred suddenly. He scrambled to his feet and for some reason, kissed Angelina on the head, before diving out of the room. They heard the plinking of the ladder and Fred practically fell down it and his footsteps thump back down the stairs.
Angelina blushed hotly when she realised Mr. Donkor and his son were looking at her as if you demand an explanation.
"He's a very typical type of genius," she suggested weakly. "Bit tapped, you know how it is."
The two men nodded in understanding and they waited until the footsteps were heard racing back.
"Here!" shouted Fred before he was even fully in the room. He darted forward to the table (which considering how close it was to the door almost meant he crashed into it) "One thousand galleons!"
The two men's eyes lit up with instant greed, leaving Fred bouncing on his heels buoyantly. "I officially buy your business!" he said triumphantly. "A permanent merging of Weasley and Donkor!"
Angelina gasped as he dumped her clinking bag of gold onto the table.
ooo
Yes. Fred's a prat.
We shall have to see how it plays out won't we? grin makes standard hint for reviews