Fred sat at a desk at his Aunt Muriel's home, George sitting on the floor working on filling orders for their shop.
"Hey, how about you come down here and help me. What are you doing anyway?" George asked tossing a crumpled ball of parchment at Fred's head.
"I'm just trying to write this not quick." Fred mumbled.
George climbed to his knees, peering over his twin's shoulder. " 'I suppose if you've found this bit of parchment it means I didn't make it home to get rid of it first' bloody hell Fred, what are you writing?" George asked.
Fred covered his words with his hand and turned slightly, "I'm just trying to be serious or something. With us both in hiding it's been difficult."
George slapped him on the shoulder, "she didn't fall for you because you're serious mate; she's clearly with you because you're funny. Now, stop thinking you won't make it home because you will."
"Yeah, you're right." Fred nodded.
"And your babies will be blessed with her looks and brains, and your sense of humor. Now, get down on this hard, cold wooden floor and help with these orders, I didn't open the joke shop on my own."
Fred dropped next to his twin, flinging himself across him playfully to reach for a stack of letters.
"Get off!" George shoved back, identical smiles on both of their faces.
Fred glanced up at George, "you're really not worried?"
"Freddie, nothing's going to happen to you. And when the time comes that the battle's over you'll propose in the middle of the battlefield and get married and I'll be the best mate at your wedding and live with you in your home and be the crazy uncle on the second floor."
Fred smirked, "I'm sure she'd love to have you live with us."
George laughed stuffed an order in an envelope, tying a parcel to it, "with her paycheck as a healer your house'll be so big she won't even know I'm there."