i wrote this, then re-wrote it because it was terrible. now, it is less terrible.
as for comment replies (which i have not done in a long time), i'll do them in the next chapter. things have been hectic lately! xx
Chapter Forty-Two
Nineteen-year-old Fred and George expected many things to happen that day.
They expected their brother, whom had just helped Harry Potter defeat You-Know-Who and vanish all evil in the world, to come walking inside their little shop with incessant inability to stop scratching his bottom (George had spent all morning attempting to get a picture of that ruddy botty whilst Fred 'looked for a way to counteract the charm that they'd put into Ron's rice pudding'.)
They expected Bill to wander into the shop at around noon with a message from their mum about how they really should come to dinner tonight and reunite themselves as a single entity after all the bollocks that they've been through because apparently, they'd been ignoring her owls (for a reason! Their mum was mad with glee!)
Fred expected George to nearly flambé himself before five o'clock.
Yesterday, George had his one ear covered in cayenne and Fever Fudge gloop. Fred thought he looked... hot.
However, neither Fred nor George expected Marcus Flint to walk into their store, looking particularly murderous just fifteen hours after the war had ended (as evident by the fact that Flint's hair was still caked in dried blood and debris). He was holding what looked to be a extremely plump canary in his skinny hands.
"WEASELS!" twenty-two-year-old Marcus shouted angrily as he spat out a few mottled yellow feathers. Fred thought that this was wise. Who knew how many "carbs" feathers had? "Bring her back NOW!"
Fred found this rather funny. Now, Marcus not only had blood in his hair, debris from Hogwarts but also bright yellow canary feathers littering about those darling black locks (which Fred thought could make it to Witch Weekly as Most Delicious Hair). He also thought this look suited Flint very much—that the yellow really brought out the homicidal intentions in those steely grey eyes!
"Relax, Flint," George was grinning so widely that Fred thought that his face was going to be permanently stuck that way. "Your little date might've eaten one of our new and very exclusive twenty-four hour long-acting canary creams, but—"
"Look on the bright side!" Fred said cheerfully. "You get to have your bird turn into a bird!"
George's eyes lit up even more (if possible). Fred thought that his twin was going to make like their fireworks and just implode any minute. He knew he shouldn't have let George eat that second custard tart! Now, he was bouncing about faster than a Pygmy Puff. "You're just a little smug because she's gone on you!"
Both Fred and George burst into laughter.
Marcus turned to look at the spot of canary muck on his shoulder. He pulled out his wand and called out a scouring charm in seconds. Somehow, having some (probably) dead bloke's blood in his hair didn't bother Flint as much as a microscopic bit of muck. "This isn't funny, you ruddy bastards!"
"It's actually very funny," George said. His eyes started to widen. "Bloody—"
"—hell," Fred cut his twin off. "What's she doing? I've seen—I don't know what in Merlin's name that is!"
"She's giving birth, you morons! I apparated as soon as I can!" Marcus explained hotly, taking the plump bird as gently as he could and putting her on the counter. "What in Merlin's name should I do? Should I take her to St Mungo's or should I be looking for a bloody animal hospital—?"
"You shouldn't have brought her here!" George replied, ghastly pale. Seemed to Fred like he needed another sweet bun. "Do I look like I know how to help canaries give birth? How dense can you be, Flint?"
Marcus stroked the canary's head. "This is all your bloody fault!"
Fred only grinned wildly. "But why? We did you a favour, Flint. I bet a little canary laying an egg is better than eight hours of torturous labour! That'll be seven sickles."
"I'll kill the both of you instead," Marcus decided heatedly. "GIVE ME MY WIFE BACK... NOW!"
George and Fred looked back over at each other. Fred believed that George was thinking exactly what Fred was thinking—let their mum deal with a pregnant bird.
JUST as they were falling down to their inevitable end, Percy placed his hands over his ears because he would like to enjoy a few moments of silence before he was crushed spine-first into the portkey-riddled hospital grounds! His only hope was that his body would somehow cushion Audrey's fall (he assumed that all the fluid engorging his inflamed knee joint would be more than enough to moisturise his bony body!)
Fortunately, someone in the great dark skies was listening to him because instead of dissolving into a puddle on the ground, Percy was cushioned nicely onto a warm, soft mattress.
"Piercey! Audi!" Tarvos exclaimed, grabbing Percy by his non-dodgy leg (something that most people neglected to do most of the time) and then pulled him up into an embrace so tight that Percy thought he heard the sound of his vertebrae shatter. Percy supposed that the damage to his spine would've been less severe if he actually did make that devastating landing. "Marcy said that Piercey and Audi will fall from the sky tonight and I should put mattress so they are no hurt! Did Tarvos do good?"
"Tarvos did very good!" Audrey cooed, standing up and placing her head against Tarvos' arm.
Percy did not appreciate the love of his miniscule life wrapping her very delicate hand around Tarvos' muscled arm. Tarvos cracked a wide smile, showcasing his perfect teeth. His masculinity was far superior than Percy's... or every other male for that matter. At least it was so in the ginger's opinion... well, underneath all that muck that had soiled his hair into a cauldron black colour; his hair might still be red.
"Marcy?" Percy asked with an arched eyebrow. If you value Tarvos' life, you should quietly move away in an orderly fashion, Percy thought to himself, eyes still on where Audrey was clinging onto Tarvos.
Audrey shot a look over at Percy, noting how acerbic his tone was. "Oh, Percival. He means Marcus Flint."
"Marcus Flint knew we were going to 'fall out of the sky'?" Percy mumbled. Of course he did! Typical. He supposed it was Caius Flint that had told Marcus. Last time, he tried to convince Percy that a Greek God was after him and Percy ignored it... which led to his six years of solitude where he made friends with a very fetching golden snidget. "Wait, how did you even know that Tarvos referred to Marcus Flint as Marcy?"
"He's a colleague," Audrey explained as she grabbed Percy's elbow, and it was not at all as gentle as it looked like when she was holding Tarvos' arm. "Do you know him?"
"I surely hope that you aren't implying that Marcus Flint is a nurse," Percy couldn't hide his surprise. He couldn't quite image Marcus Flint willingly put on those extremely feminine sparkling ivory robes and walk behind overzealous healers without somehow threatening to annihilate the whole hospital because some woman made a comment about how crooked his teeth were. "That is simply impossible! It's absurd. It's—"
"I surely hope that you realise that men could be nurses as well," Audrey mumbled in annoyance as she waved towards a happy-looking Tarvos that didn't seem to be very interested in their conversation before she dragged him off to the hospital. "I'm going to sign you out of the ward seeing as it is midnight, and you are free and then I am going to take you home and sterilise you before your hair comes to life and kills us all."
It was then that Percy decided that he was not at all jealous of Tarvos, because Tarvos was not going home with the wonderful, bodacious Audrey.
As they made their way inside St Mungo's, Percy immediately closed his eyes to prevent them from seeping out from their sockets, or violently imploding. It was also then he realised, as Audrey walked inside the building with an ease he found a great difficulty in (and it was not because his leg was shattered—though that certainly did not help!), that being without light for six years made him adapt to complete and utter darkness.
Being sat in a room that was "well lit" made Percy feel as if his brain was stewing and bubbling away.
Thus—in conclusion, Percy was about to drop into foetal position because he thought that he became blind at the sudden slaughter of bright white light. The last thing he could remember before being dragged to the counter was that he could somehow make out Audrey's frame. He buried his head into his hands, but he could feel the brutal glow peeking through to his skull and pounding onto his delicate brain matter.
And that was the impressive story of the worst migraine of his life.
Percy was suddenly pulled into a tight embrace. Fortunately, he didn't even have to see who was crushing him into bits and pieces to know who it was. It seemed that poor, well meaning Tarvos was attempting to get his fill after not seeing Percy for six years—though not much had changed, besides... everything.
"Tarvos," Percy mumbled, somehow managing to say the bloke's name in one breath whilst his lungs were being incinerated by the most violent hug of his life. Percy supposed that he was fitter than he'd expected. "Can you take me to the lavatories? I would like to see how I look like."
Tarvos somehow shifted them over towards the lavatories, which was only about a minute walk away.
"Piercey look not clean!" Tarvos exclaimed, which should've been Percy's first indication to run far away.
Percy could see Audrey glance towards him, and give him a quick nod of the head as a large stack of papers suddenly hit the desk, making her jolt up. Her wand nearly fell out of her ivory hospital robes. Although he would never admit it to a soul in the universe for fear of being called a secluded, depressing git, Percy was actually terribly jealous of the amount of paperwork that she got to do!
"Do I look presentable, Tarvos?" Percy suddenly asked.
"No!" Tarvos exclaimed, offering a warm beam. Trust Tarvos not to have a filter for such things! This should've been Percy's second indication to run very far away, but he was too much of a plonker to listen to his own reasoning.
Needless to say, all his thoughts of paperwork vanished, just as he soon caught sight of himself in the mirror. Vanishing along with the paperwork was all the blood supply to any major organs (his body's attempt to reserve the last bit of dignity he had left in him). This was the second time that Percy had taken a look at himself that day. This time, he caught sight of himself with proper lighting. Apparently, the addition of light had made him realise just how one truly looked like after six years of seclusion from society! Percy had seen ghosts at Hogwarts look much less depressing! That trick that Nearly Headless Nick did with his head looked almost like a graceful ballet compared to this distressing sight that Percy was faced with.
Percy was so stunned that he only knew how to respond by letting an ear-shattering scream. Tarvos was so surprised that he'd dropped Percy from his arms. The floor was too hard on his delicate bones that Percy wouldn't be surprised if he'd snapped all his ribs at once and managed to puncture a lung... unfortunately, that would mean that things were actually going his way! Death seemed commendable at this point. He could not leave the lavatory looking like this! He was once a respectable individual but was now reduced down to a thestral that had a mud fight a century ago! Percy couldn't believe that hours ago, he'd preferred staying in that—that prison infinitely! Maybe the lack of light and the hospital's insistence on feeding him Fanged Geraniums left him in this abysmal predicament. Maybe if he scrubbed so hard that his skin would melt, maybe then he could show his (non-existent, skeletal, repulsive... rotting!) face around England again.
A golden snidget flew out of his robes in haste and Percy immediately jumped up in fright. Oh, yes, he'd nearly forgotten! He'd broken the law for a bird! Because that was definitely Percy-like. Merlin, someone slay him now and sacrifice him to Zeus before he lose the strands of—
Tarvos, as the gentleman that he was, seemed to be concerned about the golden bird. "Piercey, dinner fly away!"
Percy immediately pulled the gape into his robes where his bird was nestling about. Speaking of a lavatory, the golden snidget (which Percy would chase down and kill himself) seemed to have used Percy's body as one a few times. He could see that beneath his very abominably prominent ribcage was so much dirt on his skin that a few slimy leeches and smarmy maggots had taken refuge in it.
As Percy came to his senses, he did the only thing that one could do when they realised that they had literally become a personification of a dungbomb... and had been for the last six years!
"Tarvos?" Percy called out apathetically. "Do not be alarmed if I happen to lose consciousness. That's just my body reacting in a justifiable way to this unacceptable state that I have seemed to have put myself in."
FRED and George were waiting outside, debating whether or not that St Mungo's would actually be able to unlock their very secret formula to their new canary creams. Thus far, it had been two minutes and they were grinning coyly to each other, arms crossed in contentment.
George had raided the candy aisle in Honeydukes before they made it to here. Unfortunately, Flint was so nervous that along with a huge assortment of pepper imps, he'd gotten Flint's nail clippings and buckets of sweat. George still scoffed them off as the contents of the packets remained untainted and a few minutes ago, was nearly admitted in because they thought George was a case of an Incendio gone wrong. Apparently, you were not supposed to eat five whole packets of pepper imps in less than ten minutes.
Speaking of which, Fred was not sure how George had smoke coming out of both his ears when he, in fact, did not have two ears.
"What if she lays an egg before they turn her human?" George mumbled, rubbing his ear as a healer passed him by and reminded him that smoking was not allowed in the hospital. He only smiled sheepishly.
Fred smirked at the thought. "Then supper is served."
George playfully shoved Fred, whom shoved back. They laughed mindlessly but their laughter was cut short when the door to the delivery room was cracked wide open.
"Ican'tbreathe," a peaky Marcus Flint sounded out as he left the delivery room. He kept on running his hand through his (now) featherless flat dark hair.
Fred found it funny that twenty-two-year-old Marcus still looked like a school boy in his shiny new loafers, his button-down and those trousers. Merlin. Could he even apparate without having a whole Ministry department attempt to fine him for being too young to apparate? Fred found it funnier given the fact that Flint was probably still in school. Didn't he fail the same year thrice?
"Godric, he looks like he just left a Potions exam," George mumbled, but then bit down his lower lip because they couldn't even vaguely imply anything related to Snape without remembering that Snape was dead.
"I know," Fred grinned, but George seemed to have missed the joke because he stood up to wander off towards Marcus. Fred sighed and followed, annoyed. George was only older by a second, and yet he had all this hidden maturity in him that Fred couldn't even dream of grasping!
George cocked his head to one side when he got to Flint. "The canary laid an egg, didn't it?"
So much for George's compassionate side, Fred thought to himself. Then again, it was Flint.
"No!" Marcus exclaimed. "She's bloody fine! I'm the one that—I can't—Bloody hell!"
Fred and George glanced over at each other, attempting to decipher the unfathomable.
"Two Piercey!" called out an attractive half-breed whom flashed his pearl-like smile towards them before he wrapped his arms around Fred and George in zeal. Fred believed that before that soul-crushing hug, he had some semblance of a bone structure. "Marcy sad!"
Fred and George beamed at that beautiful nickname. "Marcy?" they called out in unison.
Those smiles didn't last long considering the fact that Tarvos dumped Fred and George down like they were a heavy burden the half-breed had to get rid of now before he toppled over. Fred was sure that bloke accidentally dislocated George's shoulder in the process.
He wrapped his arms around Marcus, tightly crushing him. Fred immediately realised that Flint was a lot more intimidating than either of them gave him credit for. He didn't crumble at all when the half-breed hugged him. In fact, Marcus lit up at this tight-arsed embrace and somehow managed to hug the brute back. Fred was not sure how this was possible given the fact that next to that bloke's gigantic height, Marcus looked like a stretched out house-elf. In fact, he looked like a stretched out house elf standing next to most bloody people. Speaking of so, the half-breed grabbed Marcus' stomach and attempted to stretch it out like one would a wad of salt water taffy.
"Marcy have baby!" he jiggled Marcus around by his abdomen.
"At least he has colour to his cheeks again," George decided.
"I'm sure that the colour we were looking for wasn't green, Gred," Fred said in a matter-of-fact tone, before they both cracked identical grins and debated whether or not they should help Marcus before he flooded them with tea-like vomit. "Flint, when did you want to tell us that you were expecting?"
"I'll—I'll kill the both of you," Marcus managed to choke out. At least he wasn't sad anymore.
When a scream sounded out from the room, Marcus immediately pushed Tarvos away. Fred was not sure how that little creature had enough force in him to make the half-breed stumble back. Flint was truly a terrifying little thing. Marcus practically bolted inside the delivery room, where the screams of terror were getting louder. Fred and George looked over at each other, swallowed the lumps in their throat and decided to face the music themselves and see what the fuss was all about. After all, 'the music' couldn't be as bad as the Rhythmic Runes' new album! Right? And besides, Fred and George were very curious to who in Merlin's name would be stupid enough to marry Marcus Flint and carry his baby!
Fred and George's eyes were just about to pop out of their skulls when they were met by a familiar golden-haired woman screaming bloody murder. Molly was beside her, grasping her shoulder and muttering words of encouragement (Fred and George were still giving themselves claps on the back for getting their mum involved!) and Marcus Flint stood opposite to Molly, placing a hand on Penelope's arm. Ayden Clearwater apparated, panting and drenched in a silvery slime.
Fred bit back his tongue because the last thing they needed was a joke about Ayden being an unfortunate causality to Penelope's holy baby water!
WAKING up by being dumped into a pool of cold water was not how Percy Weasley preferred to wake up usually, but given the fact that he looked worse than Fred and George's manky sock collection, Percy was very, very glad that he woke up in this manner. He immediately turned to grab a sponge and vigorously scrubbed his body. Standing by the bathtub was Audrey, whom had her arms crossed over her chest and was smirking at him. Obviously, she, too, had realised that he'd come to his senses.
"Where's your little golden mate?" Audrey asked, raising an eyebrow.
Percy shuddered in the thought of that blasted bird. "When I will find that foul animal, I will kill it in a very aggressive game of Quidditch. I believe it will accidentally fall prey to an especially well designed Beater's bat. Maybe I will even get Marcy involved in such a task."
Audrey suddenly grabbed him up from the bathtub, embracing him so tightly that Percy thought that she'd accidentally punctured one of his lungs. He knew that Audrey left him breathless, but this was just pushing it!
"Audrey... please!" Percy exclaimed, pushing her away as gently as he could. He wasn't a Neanderthal that did not care for women after all. He would leave the lawsuits to Roger Davies thank you very much. It was then that he (fortunately) seemed to note that the presence of light no longer made his head feel moments away from Confringo-ing. He only felt like crushing his head with a rock! An impressive improvement.
Audrey pulled away from him, grinning wildly and then giggling. Percy loathed her for melting his heart. It made it so difficult to be himself when he was too busy being an ooey gooey puddle on the ground. An even more terrifying thought was that a Percy puddle would be a better state than he was now!
As he remembered this, he grasped the sponge so hard his knuckles turned white and then scrubbed harder.
"Audrey, look at what I've become! I'm fossilised!" Percy huffed in horror, as he attempted to cleanse himself of his six year long impurity. "And what I've said in the ward? I was a fool! I was an idiot. I had lost my pompousness and my-my—"
"Percyness?" Audrey offered, with an arched eyebrow.
"Yes!" Percy agreed before his eyebrows knitted with concentration. "However, that is not a word."
He looked down at the tinted bathwater and frowned in disgust. Audrey seemed to find this notion amusing, but Percy couldn't even begin to allow himself to laugh. "Audrey! I have leeches living on me!"
"Well, at least you don't have to worry about getting a blood clot now!" Audrey jeered, brown eyes warm.
Percy did not realise that this was a joke. "I do not believe in the prospect of leech therapy on the prospect that one should exhaust all other options before allowing such foul creatures to rest anywhere near their skin. I actually would go as far as stating that I would rather have a fatal pulmonary embolisms than allow these heathens to be anywhere near my skin!" he groaned in irritation, realising that these heathens had, in fact, been using his body long enough that they'd probably had more memories than Percy did in the Burrow.
Audrey was giggling about as she saw him place the sponge away for the moment to admire his handiwork. It seemed that vigorously scrubbing for fifteen minutes did nothing but make the sponge filthy.
Percy let out a long sigh. "Leave me be, Audrey. I will continue attempting to extract this filth that has marred my skin. If, by tomorrow morning, I seem to still be in this sorry state of being, then I would like you to stab me repeatedly in the belly. Due to my probable anaemia and the anticoagulant activity of my accidental leech therapy, I will probably die very quickly and painlessly."
Percy rolled his eyes as she walked away. It was only then did it percolate through Percy's mind that Audrey would've had to seen him in the nude before she'd thrown him into the bathtub.