"Fred? It's your turn."

"Oh, right…" Fred snapped out of it, refocusing his attention on Lee and the game of Gobstones they were in the midst of playing together. George and Rook had not yet returned to the common room, and Fred couldn't help wondering if they were still together, and whether Spencer was with them.

"I've never understood how you and George could be so terrible at this game," Lee remarked as Fred's errant Gobstone spun spectacularly out-of-bounds without hitting a single target. "I mean, they're basically tiny bludgers, aren't they?"

"I guess you're right," said Fred, "except bludgers don't spew putrid liquid at you."

"Maybe they should! That'd be something to see, wouldn't it?" Lee made his shot, knocking one of Fred's Gobstones out-of-bounds.

"You know, sometimes I think you want us to get in accidents on the pitch," Fred spoke as he dodged a spurt of Gobstone liquid.

"It would give me more to commentate."

"You mean something to comment on other than Angelina?"

"You can't be upset about that anymore! You gave her the brush-off, remember?"

"Yeah, right," said Fred, rolling his eyes, "'Cause you always thought I only told you off about that 'cause I was jealous."

"You were!"

"It's incredible that you still don't realize that this is the exact reason Angelina won't go out with you."

"No, she won't go out with me because she still has a thing about you."

Fred felt a squirm of guilt as he misfired another Gobstone. "Bollocks," he said at last, though Lee clearly thought he was referring to the game.

"It's fair," said Lee, taking what was clearly to be the winning shot. "Next time, suggest a game you're actually good at. Hey, stop—when you dodge like that, it's no fun!"

Fred straightened up and began clearing away his Gobstones. "Actually… I need your help with something."

"I thought as much," said Lee with a wicked grin. "You and George are rowing again, aren't you?"

"That's right. You were with him last time, but he's picked Rook this time, as demonstrated by them sabotaging my Calming Draught."

"That was pretty funny," said Lee with a small laugh. "It was your face, mostly. You looked ridiculous—"

"Are you on my side or not?"

"Absolutely!" answered Lee with a little salute. "Just tell me what you need me to do!"

While it was true that Fred and George rarely ever fought, it was also true that they were brothers. Still, whenever they did fight, they hated not talking to one another. And so, even when they fought, they didn't leave one another alone; they pranked each other. It seemed natural, and Fred couldn't imagine it going any other way at this point.

"You know Celestina Warbeck?" Fred spoke in a low voice.

"Oh, yeah… My dad likes to sing along to that one song, You Charmed the Heart Right Out of Me, when he thinks no one's around."

"My mum loves her. Anyway, I've been collecting photos of her for a while now, including ones from one of her more, er, risqué photo shoots back in the 50's—"

Lee made a face. "Fred, I told you I'd help you prank George, not help you through your psychosexual issues—"

"It's for the prank, genius," Fred cut him off. "I need you to help me plant them in George's stuff: his books, his bedside table, his trunk—anywhere you think he might find them. Here…" Fred had withdrawn the photographs from his bag and handed them over to Lee. "You take these and I'll take the rest."

"Aye aye, sir!" Lee spoke enthusiastically. "Leave it to me!"

Together, Fred and Lee brainstormed ideas for pranks as they planted photographs of Celestina Warbeck in George's things. When they made their way back upstairs, a quick scan of the common room showed no signs of George or Rook, and Fred was certain they were busy thinking up ways to catch him off-guard. This annoyed Fred greatly. George was supposed to be in love with Rook. Why wasn't he more upset about Rook dating Spencer? Why would he punish himself by hanging around Rook and that prat?

Which brought Fred to one of the most unsettling things about this entire ordeal; the thought that maybe Fred didn't know George as well as he thought he did. After all, he would never have guessed that George was in love, and he certainly didn't understand any of what he was doing now. Why wasn't he angry or jealous or-or feeling any of the things Fred was feeling? He had certainly looked upset when he first found out about Rook and Spencer, but he recovered quickly enough to tell Fred off for arguing with Rook about it, and now he was back to hanging around Rook as though nothing had changed!

Fred and Lee made their way to the Great Hall for dinner. When they arrived, Fred saw that George and Rook were sitting together. When Rook caught sight of Fred, she hurried to stand, something in her hand.

"Fred!" she called to him, rushing to meet him halfway along the Gryffindor table. "I-I wanted to talk to you."

"Is that so?" Fred replied suspiciously, but motioned to Lee to go on without him.

"I hate that we're not talking," she said in a voice so sincere, Fred almost believed her. "And I didn't mean to start an argument between you and George, and I'm sorry about that. To be honest, I'm a bit embarrassed about this thing with Stefan. I've never dated anyone before, you know? But he's been so nice to me and I like being with him, so when he asked me out again, I said yes… I know you and George don't particularly like him, but I promise you won't have to hang out with him all the time.

"I-I made you something," Rook went on with a small blush. She held up a tiny cupcake, red with white frosting. "It's… It's red velvet. It was my favorite back home, but I've never had it here, and also it's-it's red like your hair, too, so I thought… Um, anyway, Professor Flitwick helped me make it. I'm not sure if it tastes any good…" She offered the confection to Fred who took it wordlessly.

He looked at the little cake in his hand. It was a low tactic, pretending to make peace with him for the sake of a prank on George's behalf.

And yet, she managed to be… very persuasive. In spite of knowing better, Fred was tempted to try it.

"No," said Fred finally. "No, this isn't—Do you think I was born yesterday?" He set the cupcake forcefully on the Gryffindor table next to a confused-looking first year. "Nice try, Rook." He turned away from her and head for his usual spot where Angelina, Alicia, Katie and Lee had congregated, determined to not be taken in by Rook's stunned expression. Still, he couldn't help feeling a little remorseful about turning down a handmade gift from Rook, even if it was handmade to be a trap.

He recounted Rook's feeble attempt at deceiving him to Lee as they ate, and Lee congratulated him on his evasion before the main courses for the evening disappeared and were replaced with dessert items. Fred picked up a cupcake and held it in his hands a moment, thinking about what Rook had said. It was no use; he missed her, possibly even more than he missed George. Barely a day and already he was so ready to bite his pride and swallow the bullet that he'd almost taken her gift… He supposed that this must be the very reason George had skipped past the anger and jealousy. Fred cursed his thickness as he bit into the cupcake dejectedly.

He gagged. The yellow icing was not, in fact, icing: it was mustard.

"What's wrong, Fred?" Lee asked, somewhat alarmed. He was eating a jam doughnut that was, apparently, perfectly fine.

"My jimmies are rustled, Admiral," Fred spoke, then stopped. He tried again, "My nipples are tragic!"

Lee stared at Fred blankly, then burst into laughter. "Your nipples are what?" he asked loudly as he laughed, drawing the attention of several fellow Gryffindors and even a few Hufflepuffs the next table over.

"Muerte, muerte a los frijoles—Autofellatio symposium? Debase me!"

Fred's words were met with an eruption of laughter. A familiar voice behind him said, "If you insist."

Fred turned to face George and Rook, who had no doubt made their way over to witness the result of their collective efforts. To Fred's great surprise, George was eating the very same cupcake Rook had first offered to him, and Rook had a "serves-you-right" sort of expression as she watched him. "Put the munchkin back in the river!" Fred protested nonsensically. "This is the worst part of licking your own bologna pony!"

"I beg your pardon?"

McGonagall had arrived to discover the source of the commotion and was now looking disapprovingly at Fred. "I'm bleeding," Fred attempted to explain. "You have to find out where; that's the game!"

"You should know by now, Mister Weasley, that I am not much amused by your so-called games," McGonagall spoke sternly.

"Cobble my stones, concupisent wench!"

Professor McGonagall gave him a look of utter befuddlement. "Mister Weasley, that is quite enough!" she exclaimed when she had recovered from her initial confusion. "You—"

"I know my blether is buggery!" Fred interrupted indignantly. "I've got Estonian Uvula Syndrome!"

"Professor…" Lee panted, still not fully recovered from his most recent burst of laughter. "Professor, he's been dosed with Babbling Beverage. He hasn't had much; it'll wear off soon..."

"I see," said McGonagall, placing her hands firmly on her hips as she looked down at Lee. "And do you have any idea who is responsible for this juvenile prank?"

"No, Professor," Lee lied sportingly. "No idea."

"Most crimes are in some way related to Hagrid," Fred offered fatuously.

"Mister Weasley, seeing as you have no way to contribute to the conversation, I suggest you hold your tongue indefinitely," Professor McGonagall snapped.

"Trombone," Fred nodded compliantly.

"If he only had a small amount, I suppose there's no point sending him to Madame Pomfrey," McGonagall concluded. "I strongly recommend returning to your common room and getting a head start on your homework."

Professor McGonagall walked away once the tumult had sufficiently died down. Fred soon discovered that George and Rook had already left the Great Hall. Fred made for the common room with Lee at his side. Once there, however, he dragged George off to the side to speak to him alone.

"The castle is absent?" Fred asked briskly.

George eyed him before answering carefully, "Rook's not here…"

"And the Communist fairy was virtuous?"

George stared.

"The ruddy pudding!" Fred exclaimed exasperatedly.

"Oh. That. Yes, the, er, fairy was most virtuous. It was also delicious. You should have taken it."

Fred deflated. Rook really had been trying to make peace with him. "But… But you knew I'd be skeptical about a blackbird baked in a pie!"

"I'd be skeptical about that too, mate," said George with a smirk. "Still, you're being stubborn. You should have been the one apologizing to her. She actually feels bad for no good reason all because you're jealous."

"I'm not!"

"There's no shame in admitting it. We barely get time with her between classes and tutoring and Quidditch practice. Even you're bound to be envious."

"That's spinach calling asparagus green," Fred grumbled.

"Yeah. I'm jealous. But I didn't take it out on Rook."

"I'm not, and I didn't!" Fred insisted. "I only stated the obvious! He's a-a fopdoodle!"

"I'm not sure what that means, but I'm not inclined to disagree with you on that point. All the same, it's not Spencer who's hurting right now, is it?"

With this, George stood and left to sit with Harry, Ron and Hermione. Fred sat alone, feeling ridiculous. Lee hurried over to him. "So what's the plan?" he asked excitedly. "We're getting them back, right?"

Fred paused, then answered, "Is a duck's arse watertight?"