A/N. Some swearing in this chapter.

...

Chapter 14.

And then rip out your tongue

March-April.

The weeks following the Second Task were, for the seventh years at least, busy and filled with exam prep. February turned into March and the frost covering the castle grounds melted, replaced by blossoming daises and wildflowers. With the air warmer and drier, Care of Magical Creatures became more bearable, although the Blast-Ended Skrewts were still astonishingly unpleasant. Talk of N.E.W.T.S was rife, not only from teachers but also among the students. Duncan Inglebee, who'd proclaimed to anyone that would listen at the beginning of the year that he would get twelve N.E.W.T.S., started crying in Transfiguration after a particularly brash speech from McGonagall.

After that, Lara felt like she was handling the stress rather well. Her worst grade was an A in Transfiguration, which she figured wasn't all that bad. In the rest of her subjects, she was either on track for an O or an E. Whenever this was mentioned, Stan would start to sob and fall back on the floor, no matter where they happened to be at the time. Days before, he'd almost crushed Professor Flitwick.

By the time the Easter holidays began, the seventh years were more than relieved. Not because they'd have a smaller workload—no, the teachers had made sure they'd stay busy with homework—but just to get away from the teachers, who were getting increasingly overbearing.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Omar screamed in the middle of the Great Hall on Saturday morning. At least five people choked on their drinks in shock. "If I heard it once more, I was going to jump off the Astronomy tower."

Stan, who was the one of the five people who chose the wrong moment to hydrate, was starting to turn a little blue. Erin reached over and unceremoniously thumped him on the back.

"I was more fed-up with McGonagall's speeches," muttered Amanda. "These exams will define and frame the rest of your life. DO YOU WANT TO GET BAD RESULTS, A BAD JOB AND DIE MONEYLESS AND DEPRESSED?"

"Okay, I'm pretty sure she doesn't say that last part," Lara smirked before she had another mouthful of casserole.

"It's heavily implied."

"I think we need to take up yoga," Erin said as Stan caught his breath. "My mum swears by it. She says it's an amazing stress relief."

"It's that thing with the…" Omar formed a circle with his pointer fingers and thumbs, then began to hum.

"That's meditating," sighed Erin. "Yoga focuses more on breathing and releasing the tension in your muscles."

Lara swallowed her food before saying, "You have to be quite flexible, though, so Stan's out."

"I don't need to be flexible," Stan croaked as he massaged his throat with his hand. "I have stamina."

"Ew," mumbled Amanda.

"Adela will be thrilled," Omar said flatly. "But moving on, I'm glad for the break from the preaching."

"Yeah, now we just have to live in the library for the next two weeks," Erin snorted, and Amanda threw a strawberry at her while the other three groaned.

Erin was, however, correct; Lara spent the next two days in the library, focusing mostly on her Transfiguration essays. By the time she finished her second, it was quarter to eight and Madam Pince was hovering around her table, tapping her foot impatiently and staring at Lara over her glasses. Giving the librarian an awkward smile, Lara grabbed her things, shoved them into her backpack and rushed out of the library towards the Gryffindor common room.

Inside, Lara could see the some of the sixth and seventh years sat in front of the fire. Erin was in the armchair alone, so Lara went over and perched herself onto the arm, resting her head against the back.

"Fun session?" asked Erin, her voice tinged with amusement.

"I'm pretty sure Madam Pince hates me."

"She hates everyone."

Lara sat up with a groan. "I got my 'figuration essays finished."

"Son of a—I haven't even started—"

"Lara—Lara, try these!" George hurdled forward from the couch, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of the armchair and holding out his hand. In his palm were two red and green stripy sticks, at least six inches long.

"Absolutely not."

"Oh, come on," he said, presenting the sticks to her dramatically. "They're delicious, I swear—"

"I'll try," offered Stan, and George scrambled over to him with the sticks.

Stan picked one up and eyed it cautiously before shrugging and taking a large bite. For a moment, nothing happened, and Stan nodded, looking impressed. "These are amazing, mate. Is it apple and strawberry? Good combin—hissssss—combi—hissss—com—hissssss—"

The group around the fire laughed as Stan began to hiss like a snake. Grabbing his throat, Stan's eyes widened as his tongue suddenly popped out of his mouth, thin and fork-like, wiggling in the air as if trying to catch a fly.

"Nautious Jumping Snakes," George grinned as Stan stared at his tongue in awe. "Partially inspired by Harry, who was known exclusively as The Heir of Slytherin during his second year."

"If this is your homage to him for the Triwizard Tournament, I don't think he'll appreciate it," smirked Angelina.

"Well, it started out as turning someone into a lion," Fred said. "But a snake's funnier—look at that tongue."

Stan's tongue was now shooting in and out of his mouth with a strange whistling noise. The tip touched Alicia's hand; she squealed and scrambled towards the armchair, her expression one of extreme offence.

It took over an hour for Stan's snake-like tendencies to disappear. Fred and George were over the moon, already planning how they were going to distribute the sweets to the masses, and Alicia called them losers and went to bed, Angelina in tow. Stan and Erin began to work on their Transfiguration essays. Eventually, George got sick of the business talk and went to annoy Lee, who was half-asleep on the rug.

Lara immediately jumped into his previous seat, sitting cross-legged on the couch as she faced Fred, who raised his eyebrows amusedly. "Evening, Culpepper," he smirked wickedly. "What's up?"

"Nothing much…I feel like I haven't spoken to you for a while, is all," Lara shrugged, trying to sound cool and casual, when in reality the fact that he hadn't bothered with her since their Hogsmeade 'date' made her chest ache.

"Well, you've been busy, haven't you?" grinned Fred, though it seemed rather strained.

"With N.E.W.T.S.?

"That and…well, y'know. Brentford."

Lara's heart jumped in her chest; she hadn't thought about David for weeks now, not since she'd talked to George at the Second Task. With all the exam prep and homework she had, dealing with the 'David Situation' had taken a backseat.

"I haven't seen him for weeks," she said, shuffling uneasily. "Not since our date, actually."

"But you're still seeing him?"

"Well…technically, I guess. We haven't—"

"That's, what? Three months now? Good going, Culpepper."

"But—"

"I better get to bed," Fred jumped to his feet, stretching and yawning overdramatically. "Big day of pranks tomorrow. G'night."

He walked off, hands in his pockets, up the stairs to his dormitory. Lara could only stare after him, frozen in shock at his abruptness. After a moment, she let out a scoff of disbelief and turned towards Erin, as if her best friend would throw her a bone and clear up the situation. However, Erin was still engrossed in her essay and hadn't even noticed Fred and Lara's interaction.

George had, though. Lara could see him looking at her from the corner of his eyes. When their stares met, George gave her a sheepish smile. This only annoyed her more and, huffing a 'goodnight' towards her friends, she went upstairs to bed.

She didn't see Fred for the next two days, though she saw the remnants of his existence. On Tuesday morning, Snape's office was filled with toilet paper and sticky goo that plopped onto the Professor's head as he walked through the door, and on the evening Lara returned from the library to find at least a dozen first and second years pretending to be snakes, their forked tongues bursting from their mouths as they hissed. In the background, Patricia Stimpson, the sixth year prefect, was trying to diffuse the situation by guessing a counter-hex, but all she did was turn a little girl purple and they both promptly burst into tears.

On Wednesday, during lunch, about thirty people turned into yellow canaries, including Professor Flitwick. When the Charms Professor was turned back into himself by Professor McGonagall, he declared the stunt, "An impressive bit of magic," and went back to his food, ignoring the dozens of students still hopping around the Great Hall in their bird forms.

Lara was still laughing at bird-Amanda jumping up and down the Gryffindor table, her beak snapping together angrily, as she walked to the library. Amanda had only just turned back into her human form seconds before, spluttering and making gagging sounds as she complained about feathers being lodged in her throat. Unfortunately, this only made Lara more amused, and she had to leave before Amanda hexed her into oblivion, a giggling Stan at her side.

"As if they pranked over two dozen people and they weren't even at lunch," Stan sighed wistfully as they strolled through the hallways. "How do they do it?"

"Probably broke into the kitchens," Lara guessed, still chuckling.

"They'll end up billionaires, those two, I swear. They might not care about N.E.W.T.S. but they're bloody geniuses."

"I think their talents lie beyond academia."

"Too cool for school," grinned Stan, wiggling his eyebrows. "People used to say that about Orsino, too."

"Nobody says too cool for school, Stan—"

"Lara!" a voice echoed down the hallway, making the two friends jump in surprise. "I'm so glad we've ran into each other."

Lara felt her stomach drop as she looked over and saw David heading her way, a smile on his face. She looked to Stan in panic, but he just stared back in confusion. Lara cursed; she hadn't told her friends that she was planning to break it off with David. Honestly, she just hadn't had the time, and with everyone stressed about N.E.W.T.S. her boy drama didn't seem important.

"Heyyy," Lara said slowly, turning back towards David. "What're you doing here?"

"I was just heading into the library," he motioned towards the closed double doors. "I was hoping to find you, actually. Duncan said he saw you in there yesterday night."

"Oh, eh…right."

An awkward silence pulsed between the three seventh years. Lara gulped, her mouth suddenly dry, as she hugged her books to her chest. She knew that she had to talk to David sooner or later, but she hadn't expected to run into him tonight. Her plan was to seek him out later next week, once she had all of her homework out of the way…or maybe not at all, and hope he forgot about her…

"I'll wait for you in the library," said Stan, awkwardly rushing off and throwing Lara a wide-eyed look over his shoulder.

David waited until he'd gone to say, "So…it's been a while, huh?"

"Just a bit," Lara agreed. "Been busy…N.E.W.T.S. and all…"

"Yeah, of course."

Another stretch of silence engulfed them. Lara truly had nothing to say; in fact, she could barely look at him. Her talk with George had only increased her uneasy feelings about the Hufflepuff, and something about him gave her the creeps.

"So there's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up soon," David said, his voice piecing in the empty hallway. "I was thinking we should go together."

Lara wanted a black hole to open up and swallow her whole. She'd never broken-up with someone before—not that she and David were really going out. Still, they'd been hanging out since Christmas and they'd been on a date…a disastrous, disastrous date. They were something (romantically involved? Romantically interested? Lara had no idea) and that something had to stop, and she had to be the one to do it.

God, what did she say?

It's not you, it's me.

No, no, wasn't that the worst thing to say? Plus, it was a lie! She was breaking up with him because his weirdness freaked her out. Was that his fault or hers? Was he at fault for making strange comments, or was she at fault for finding them strange in the first place?

Bloody hell—WHAT DID SHE SAY?

"I, eh…" Lara muttered, because David was still waiting for a reply. "I…don't think so."

David blanched; he clearly hadn't expected her to say that. "…I'm sorry?"

"I just…" she paused, racking her brain for something to say. She decided to go with the truth. "I don't think we're a good match, David. I think the date was proof of that…"

"What do you mean?"

"Well…it wasn't a good date, was it?"

"I…" David looked utterly astounded. "Wasn't it? I thought it went great…"

"It was awkward." Lara breathed. "And…we didn't want to do the same things…"

"Aren't all first dates awkward?"

"I suppose."

"So why don't we give it another try—"

"No," Lara whispered, horrified by the thought. "I really don't think that's a good idea."

David's expression went from bewilderment to anger. "Why? What the hell did I do that was so bad?"

"I just think we're different people—"

"Obviously," he snapped, scoffing loudly. "Don't be so dense. You obviously have some issues that you need to sort out—"

"That I need to sort out?" Lara's anger also came to the surface and she glared at him heatedly. "You're the one with the issues, David. What the hell was all that stuff about blood-purity—"

"That was your problem?" he shouted, advancing towards her. "That I asked you about your family? I was just trying to act interested in your stupid life, you bint—"

"You weren't interested in my life, you we're interested in how I'm a pure-blood—and don't call me a bint, you prat—"

"Girls are so condescending these days—boys are so mean! Boys are so stupid! They only want one thing! That's all you lot go on about, so I take you on a date, I act like a gentleman, I ask you questions and you're still not satisfied—"

"First of all; that's ridiculously sexist. Second of all; you bragged about the fact that your kids would be considered pure-blood! There'd be no muggle's on either side of the family tree or whatever the hell you said! Why the hell does that matter—"

"Don't quote me in that stupid accent—"

"STUPID ACCENT? I'm Northern—"

"You sound like an ignoramus—"

"And you sound like a pompous wanker, but you don't hear me complaining—"

"What the hell's going on?" Stan suddenly appeared in the hallway, eyebrows knitted together in concern. "Everyone in the library can hear you guys screaming at each other—"

"She's a touchy little floozie, that's what—"

"Floozie? Who even says that anymore—"

"Watch your mouth, Brentford," Stan growled, stepping forward with clenched fists. "Otherwise I'll make sure you won't be able to talk again."

"Oh, yeah?" David huffed cockily. "And how will you do that?"

"I'll knock out your damn teeth, you twat," Stan spat. "And then rip out your tongue, chop it up and make you eat it—"

"Ookay," Lara cringed, rushing towards the boys as they sized each other up; she'd forgotten how creative Stan could get with his threats. "I think we should just walk away."

"No, I think we should stay and see what happens," said Stan, pushing up the sleeves of his t-shirt. "Come on, Brentford. I grew up with two older brothers, I learnt pretty quickly how to hold my own. I can get you in a headlock and fart in your mouth at the same time."

"Merlin," Lara whispered and smacked her hand to her face.

"I'm not sinking to your level, Thruston," David said, trying to sound annoyed, but his panicked expression showed his true feelings. "I'm leaving with my dignity. You stay with your slutty little friend—"

And that was when Stan punched him in the face.

"Bugger." Lara hissed as David stumbled backwards, holding his bloody nose. "Oh my God—Stan!"

"What?" Stan said, as if he'd merely stolen a chip from her plate.

"You've broke his nose, you dolt—"

"He deserved it," Stan looked unconcerned.

In the background, David was moaning, red liquid pouring down his face and onto his grey t-shirt. Lara rushed over with her wand. "Here, let me fix it—"

"Bugger off," David grumbled and pushed her away. "I shoub'be bnownb—"

"Eh…what?"

David spat a little pool of blood near her foot, then grabbed his things and stalked away. Lara watched him go with a grimace.

"You'll get detention," she sighed, turning to Stan.

"Worth it," he shrugged. "He won't say anything, anyway. Otherwise people will ask why I punched him, and he won't look good."

"Well…thank you," she threw him a small grin. "For defending my honour."

"Feel free to spread it across the school. The ladies will think I'm a knight in shining armour."

"I'll make sure to do that—stop flexing."

Stan grinned and tightened his bicep muscle again. "Is this not doing anything for you?"

"Not even slightly."

"Adela thinks it's cute."

"Adela wants to get into your pants," smirked Lara. "Can you believe he insulted my accent?"

"It does get pretty strong when you're angry."

Lara rolled her eyes. "I take back my gratitude."

"After I defended your besmirched honour," he sighed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders; Lara snorted into his armpit. "Now, if you're quite finished getting into fights with Hufflepuff's, we have DADA essays to write."

The 1st of April was a date that was both dreaded and hotly anticipated across the Hogwarts castle. Not only because it was April Fool's Day, but also because it was Fred and George Weasley's birthday.

Every year, without fail, they pulled pranks from dawn until midnight, all across the school. Nobody was safe, not even the teachers (which Snape found out the hard way), and those who disliked pranks usually spent the whole day in their common rooms, hiding from the identical menaces and expressing how eternally grateful they were that April Fool's always landed during the Easter holidays so they didn't get pranked during class.

For the Gryffindor's, however, hiding was not an option. Fred and George had free range of the common room and it was always one of the places they hit. The Gryffindor girls were slightly better off than the boys; if they stayed in their dormitories, the twins couldn't get to them thanks to the sliding staircase. Some actually chose to stay in their dorms for the day, surrounded by an emergency pack of sweets and chocolate, just waiting for the day to be over. Patricia Stimpson was one of these girls; she had a bag of food dedicated to what she called 'Doomsday', which she set at the end of her bed while she did homework for fourteen hours straight.

After a disaster with a firework, a chicken and pepper spray (don't ask), Fiona Gerald also chose to stay in bed.

"Not after last time," she said with a shiver, sinking further into her covers. "I might have to pay for therapy when I'm older."

"Fiona…what happened—"

"No. Never. Move on."

Erin sighed and left the dorm, grumbling under her breath, "I'll get it out of her one day."

"No you won't," Lara grinned. "She'll take it to the grave."

"I'll stay friends with her until her deathbed, make sure I live longer, and ask—"

Erin stopped talking as they walked into the common room as, by the looks of things, Fred and George were already awake. Everything, from the rugs to the light shade, was wrapped in Clingfilm, shiny and reflective in the light. People were slithering off the couches, the mixture of their clothes and the slippery material making a squeaking sound that echoed through the room. A few girls were trying to do homework in the corner, but their scrolls kept sticking to the Clingfilm. In the corner, a group of boys were pouring water onto the floor, marvelling at how it pooled on the surface.

"Dear God," whispered Erin, sounding horrified. "Dear God."

"Can't you rip it off—"

"Sticking Charm," called Neville Longbottom, who was awkwardly slipping off the couch. "It doesn't wear off for another few hours."

"Where are they?"

"At lunch."

Erin and Lara walked down to the Great Hall, where Fred and George sat surrounded by friends and family. They seemed to be singing and dancing with their little sister, Ginny. The people around them were laughing happily as they watched the three siblings jump and gyrate.

"I'm too sexy for my shirt,
Too sexy for my shirt,
So sexy it hurts,
And I'm too sexy for Milan,
Too sexy for Milan."

"I regret teaching you this song!" whined Stan, putting his face into his hands. "Stop wiggling, Fred—"

Fred simply ignored him and continued to thrust into the air.

"I'm too sexy for my shirt,

Too sexy for my shirt—"

"Happy birthday!" Erin yelled out and the three siblings stopped dancing to look at her. "Come here, you two—"

The twins' faces scrunched as she kissed them on a cheek each. The crowd looked both relieved and disappointed they'd stopped dancing.

"Happy birthday," Lara sniggered, taking George into a hug as Erin fussed over Fred. "The big one-seven."

"Don't remind me," huffed George. "I could enter the Tournament now."

"But the beard looked so good on you."

George gave her an unimpressed look and reached to flick her nose. "I'll grow one when we're old and grey, just for you."

"You say that as if I won't be in Australia hiding from you and your annoyingness."

"You're lucky I'm in a good mood, Culpepper."

She grinned as he ruffled her hair. Diving to get away from him, Lara found herself face-to-face with Fred, who had squirmed his way out of Erin's clutches. For a moment, Lara just stared at him; after their mini-fight/tension/clash/dispute thing in the common room, she wasn't even sure if they were friends anymore.

Then suddenly, Fred grinned and took one large step, engulfing her in his arms. She was so shocked that she ended up crushed against his chest, her face pressed against his thick shoulder.

"Happy birthday, Freddy," she said, her voice muffled by him.

"Cheers, Culpepper," he squeezed her extra tight for a second, then released and stepped back. "Did you like the Clingfilm?"

"Very creative," Lara nodded. "Some boys were doing a makeshift pool in the corner, too, so that'll be fun."

"It's just the start."

Lara's eyes narrowed. "What else have you got planned?"

"That would be telling," he patted her head like a dog, to which she rolled her eyes. "Just keep your eyes peeled."

By evening, in which Fred and George retired to the common room with their friends and family (the Sticky Charm having worn off; the Clingfilm disposed of by a harassed and unimpressed Hermione Granger), Lara had realised just how much weight Fred's warning carried.

After lunch, the boys had somehow broke into the Slytherin common room, let off dungbombs, released transfigured snakes and made a sludge that both stuck to everything like glue and also glowed in the dark (the Slytherin's came to dinner that night reminding Lara of smelly disco balls). They scared at least three dozen students with fake creepy crawlies—Glenn Chan had screamed so shrilly, The Fat Lady was slightly jealous—and covered the boys toilet seats in magiglue, which could only be taken off with a counter-cream Madam Pomfrey stocked. Professor Flitwick's office was covered in post-it notes (which he said was, "A delight.") and they gave Seamus Finnigan a love potion which made him follow McGonagall around all day asking her to marry him.

"Mr Finnigan," she'd said patiently, her lips pursed. "You are simply not my type."

At dinner, they threw mini-bombs into the bowls of food, making it explode everywhere. By the end of the meal, the whole school looked like they'd participated in a very elaborate food-fight. Then, while hanging out on the Quidditch Pitch, they'd charmed fireworks to say rude words and naughty limericks, which could easily be seen back at the castle (unbeknownst to them, the Beauxbatons students were simply horrified). And, finally, on the way back to the common room, they put globs of superglue onto the floor for people to get stuck in during the night, probably to be caught by Filch or Mrs Norris.

"One of our more evil pranks," George said on the walk back to the Gryffindor tower. "But last year we caught Malfoy and it was glorious."

"So we have to risk it again," Fred agreed. "So don't sneak out tonight. Spread the word."

(The next morning, found on top of each other asleep and half-dressed, Allison Sky and Trent Angel's secret relationship would be exposed to the school when they were found by the Head Girl—but nobody knew that yet.)

As the group stepped into the common room, Erin grabbed Lara's arm and said, "Shall I get their present from the dorm?"

"Yeah," Lara grinned. "I'm glad we didn't give them it this-morning—imagine the carnage."

"The castle wouldn't be standing."

Entering the common room, Erin rushed towards the stairs and Lara perched herself onto the coffee table, awaiting the return of her best friend. Erin appeared two minutes later, a tiny package in her hand and a smirk on her face.

"Guys, Erin and I bought you something," Lara said, fighting to keep her expression stoic. "Just a little present."

George immediately straightened and held out his hands like an impatient toddler. "Gimme, gimme."

"We hope you like it," Erin said and Lara could tell she was fighting back a giggle. "We put a lot of thought into it."

The twins exchanged slightly dubious looks as they examined the tiny package in George's hand. Slowly, George tore off the paper, revealing a small white box. Fred reached over to take off the lid.

"Oh." Fred breathed. "Oh, eh…it's lovely…"

"Yeah it's…what is it?"

"A keyring!" chirped Erin, clapping her hands together excitedly. "A lion, obviously."

Fred pulled the small keyring from the box and stared at it. He had a forced happy smile on his face, but his knitted eyebrows gave away his uncertainty. "It's a lion," he whispered to George, presenting it to his twin. "A lion."

"Eh…yeah. Lovely," George grumbled.

"Click the button on the side," Lara said. "It roars."

George unenthusiastically reached up to do so. The second his finger touched it, the lion flew out of Fred's hand and into the air, exploding into a multitude of colours that rained down on the twins' flabbergasted faces. The little white box on George's knee began to contort, twisting and swirling until it was at least twenty times the size. Everyone stared at it, wide-eyed, as the large box filled with a variety of rockets, pinwheels, explosives and sparklers.

Lara and Erin laughed as the twins slowly turned to look at them, jaws dropped and a blank sort of surprise in their eyes.

"We just wanted to know what you'd do if you got a shit present," Erin sniggered. "You're both terrible actors."

"You didn't think we'd really get you a keyring, did you?" smirked Lara, raising her eyebrows.

"You two are evil," George murmured.

"Evil geniuses," Fred grinned and reached into the box, grabbing the contents between his fingers. "Look at all these fireworks."

Alicia groaned from the floor. "What have you two done?"

"We've ruined the school and your lives," chirped Erin. "You are welcome."

"Is there a rocket to throw at people in there?" Stan asked, peering over Fred's shoulder into the box. "Hey, La, shall we use one on Brentford? Get it to chase his sorry arse across the Entrance Hall?"

"Brentford?" Angelina said interestedly. "Why? What's happened?"

Lara threw Stan an annoyed look, but he simply ignored her. "He was an arsehole to Lara the other day when she broke-up with him—oooh, look, premium killer explosions. I reckon that will get him running…"

"You broke up with him?" Erin squeaked.

"No!" Lara said, her voice severely high-pitched. "We weren't really going out, we only had one date—"

"Why didn't you tell me—"

"You're not seeing Brentford anymore?" Fred suddenly spoke, his voice even and direct.

Lara's eyes snapped to him, only to find him staring at her, his hands half-buried in the firework box. Something about the intensity of his gaze made her heart flip in her chest. "No," she breathed, not breaking eye contact. "I'm not."

"Why?"

"It…didn't work out the way I thought it would," she awkwardly tugged on the ends of her hair. "Our personalities…clashed."

Slowly, Fred's face broke out into a grin. A wide, joyful grin that reminded her of last year, back when they first became friends. She'd always loved his smile, but seeing it so suddenly, so directly after months of distance, took her breath away.

"What do you mean he was an arsehole to her?" George asked, looking to Stan. "Explain the details."

"He called her a bint and said something about her being a sensitive floozie. And then he called her a slut—oh, he insulted her accent, too."

"A slut?" Katie Bell repeated, outraged. "Does he want me to break his kneecaps?"

"I was more insulted by the accent thing, to be honest," muttered Lara, crossing her arms huffily.

"Well, isn't that interesting," George turned towards his twin, an evil glint in his eyes. "What do you reckon, Fred?"

"I reckon Brentford needs to be taught some manners," Fred eyed a particularly large firework dangerously. "Don't you?"

"Mum taught us to be perfect gentleman. It's only fair we share the knowledge."

"Doing him a favour, really."

"Exactly," George wiggled his eyebrows with a smirk. "Mum would be proud."

"Eh…" Lara gulped, holding up her hand anxiously. "What are you going to do?"

"Leave it to us," Fred chirruped, turning towards her with a beam and sparkling eyes. "You don't need to worry about a thing."

"Yeah, we've got this," George began to twirl a sparkler between his fingers. Then, shaking his head, he grinned and addressed his friends and family. "Sparkler, anyone? Hand them out…hand them out…"

Lara wanted to be worried. She wanted to tell them not to be too harsh on David, who had said most of his insults out of anger and pain. But when Fred sat beside her and handed her a sparkler, that wide grin on his face…she found she couldn't really say any words at all.

Annnnnd David and Lara are over for good! It won't be the last time we see of him, but that's for later. Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter! Next chapter the twins get their revenge on David, but it might not be what you're expecting...