a/n; sorry for the wait, ect. ect.
chapter seven; G is for Gigantic Mess
"FREDRICK ARTHUR WEASLEY!" George roared, storming through the house and searching for his son. "WHERE ARE YOU!?"
"If I told you, Dad, I'd get in trouble. So I'm nowhere." A voice came from all around him. George scowled and cursed his 14 year old son's ventriliquist abilities.
"FREEEEEEEED!!"
If one were to walk into Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes despite the 'Closed' sign hung on the door, they would find a huge mess; everything was on the floor, there was a type of muck in one corner, and the air smelled like love potion as all the bottles had smashed.
How did this atrocious thing happen? Well, George had left for TEN MINUTES to get some ice cream, and when he got back his shop was demolished and his son was nowhere to be found.
George had panicked. What if the Death Eaters had finally come back? Was killing one Fred not enough?
But then he calmed down and realised that Fred had probably just been fooling around with something that explodes, and tada! What a masterpiece.
He took a deep breath.
"You're not in trouble, Fred. Just come out and help me clean up."
Poor Mum, George thought in alarm. There was TWO of us!!
He resolved to send her an owl later, thanking her for not cursing him and his twin beyond belief.
And to ask how best to control the urge to.
a/n; ahaha, i love george :) actually, i love fred, but since he's gone -sniffle- imma have to love george too. -is rambling-
