A/N: I reread this scenario, and there's a short passage that's a potential sexual innuendo (reminds me of "Buttons") I hadn't meant to write. XD Feel free to point it out if you notice it.

A/N 2: If you like this story, you might like reading "Buttons."

A/N 3: Thank you to the following readers--thelightningstrike, SecretCrowds120, carly, and xXxTroubleKelpxXx. I really appreciate your reviews and words of encouragement ^^

Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter.

SCENARIO 3: Make a Bet or Bond through Pranking

Fred smiled when he heard Angelina's voice somewhere behind him, followed by the familiar approach of footsteps. She was swapping words with another Gryffindor girl, obviously trying her best to be polite while evading whatever trivial matters the girl was going on about.

"Phew," she sighed once she joined his leaning stance on the banister.

"You could've just used that dung bomb to get away, you know."

"Perhaps. But unlike some freckled-faced folk I know, I like to be decent to people," Angelina rationalized, feeling her robe's pockets for one of the many free Weasley products to which she was privvy.

He rolled his eyes. "Decency is overrated."

She nudged his elbow. "Oh, don't give me that. You may play indecent, Fred, but you're one of the most decent people I know."

"Shush, Angie. You want everyone to hear that?"

"Heaven forbid. Wotcher doing?"

"Testing new products," he replied, rolling his shirt sleeves up to his elbows without looking up from his downward focus.

"Ohhhh." She leaned over the banister to follow his gaze. The great staircase was anything but simple; an elaborate movement of dizzying stair swapping that occasionally tripped up unknowing first years into confusing corners. Every so often, Fred would pull a small marble-like ball from his pocket. The tip of his tongue peaking from the corner of his mouth, he would arch his wrist to aim and launch the ball down the way. Angelina watched as the ball would land softly in a student's robes. "Should I even ask what you're testing?"

"Only if you want to be an accomplice. Though I'm sure you'd look lovely in black and white stripes," he added.

"Uh-huh, sure," she replied. Smoothly, Angelina reached into Fred's robes to pull out a few balls. Fred tensed at the unexpected-but-pleasant clothing invasion, a soft pink hitting his cheeks. She rolled the balls around her palm, inspecting them. "So what do these fellows do?"

He cleared his throat. "Mischief, of course."

"I could use a little of that right now. What're you doing exactly?"

"Planting them on targets."

"Targets?" She double-checked the people walking below. She noticed most of them were Slytherins. "Ah, 'targets'."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Strange properties these balls have."

"Yeah, they slow down on the drop so they won't cause a distinct impact. Targets don't feel a thing. Well, not till it's too late anyway."

"Clever. May I?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Be my guest."

"Who haven't you hit yet?"

"Hmm." Fred's eyes glossed over the various students before landing on Blaise, pointing his position out. "That annoying bloke, for one."

Angelina cracked her knuckles. "Ahh. *Him.* Excellent," she said. With a graceful wrist flick, the ball glided through the air and landed softly in Blaise's cloak.

"Impressive!" Fred regarded.

Angelina smiled. "Who says Quidditch skills can't translate into everyday life?"

"How about that particularly ugly one over there, then?" Fred asked, pointing to a girl with a permanent scowl on her face.

"Fred! That's so mean!" she reprimmanded until she looked at the girl. She flinched. "Right, nevermind. Let's see." Angelina aley-ooped the ball underhanded, which gently flew through the air to fall into the girl's mass of hair.

"I am thoroughly impressed, my dear." She nodded her head in pride. "But let's say we amp things up some," he suggested.

"How so?"

"I have a bit of a wager for you."

"Explain."

"You know that Yule Ball thing coming up?"

"How can anyone not know about it? It's the talk of the school."

"Well, I could use a date to this thing," Fred began.

"Really? The famous Fred Weasley doesn't have a date yet? That's odd considering the lot that follows you around."

"What 'lot'?"

"You and George practically have a fan club of gaggling dimwits on your heels, and don't act like you don't know it."

"Hadn't noticed," he said while feigning innocence. He leaned in closely with that half-smirk of his. "Jealous?"

Angelina rolled her eyes, redirecting the topic. "What were you saying?"

"Well, I see a certain Malfoy twit coming at six o'clock. What say we place a bet as to who can hit him with the most skill?"

"You're questioning my skills now?"

"Oh no, not questioning. Just challenging. Nothing wrong with a little competition."

Angelina's eyes flickered with fire. "Terms?"

"If your move's better, you win, your terms. If my move's better, I win, and you be my date to the ball."

She smiled. "You could just ask, you know."

Fred winked. "This is about Quidditch skills in everyday life, Angie. This has nothing to do with the dance."

Angelina crossed her arms. "Oh no? Then why bet a date?"

He shrugged. "Why not?"

"All right then. My terms, huh?"

"Yes. What'd you like?"

"Hmm." She pretended to think. "How about a load of those delicious chocolates you know I like from Hogsmeade?"

Fred tried to hide his disappointment, hoping she might wager something similar to his terms. "All right. Deal." They shook on it.

"So how do we judge who's better?"

"Did someone say 'judge who's better?'" another voice inquired. Angelina jumped to discover Lee Jordan right by her side.

"Merlin! Lee, could you not do that?" she asked, clutching her heart.

Fred grinned, giving his friend a handshake, saying "You're like a bloody ninja, you are."

Lee gave a magnanimous bow. "One of my many talents. But yes, if you need a judge, you've got your man."

"All right then. But none of this boys-watching-each-others'-backs stuff. You've got to be fair."

"Of course, Ange. I'd never cheat you," Lee added, batting his lashes at her. "Most challenging toss wins the bet, so I'd go for creativity points."

"Gentlemen first," Angelina offered. Fred wrinkled his nose at her.

Looking across the hallway, Fred smirked at the sight of one unsuspecting Nearly-Headless Nick, who was engaged in a heated conversation with another ghost. Aiming for Nick, the ball arched and fell down what would've been Nick's transparent esophagus, plummeted straight downward to bounce off of Crabbe's head. Crabbe, who occupied his usual lackey stance next to his leader, gave the ball the rebound means to slide into Malfoy's robes.

Angelina and Lee nodded approvingly. "Extra points for the ghost neck slam dunk," Lee added. Nearly-Headless Nick looked around suspiciously, trying to figure out what had just happened.

"Your turn, m'lady," Fred replied.

Angelina took a moment to take in the various points and objects in the hallway, calculating her potential avenues. Finally, she took her aim and threw the ball. It headed straight for the lady-on-a-swing portrait, colliding with the lady's foot's momentum to bounce across the hallway and hit the banister. It proceeded to hit a napping Mrs. Filch in the head, lightly waking her from her sleep. It then bounced off of Crabbe's thick head, which slowed it down enough to skip into Malfoy's robes.

The boys stood, mouths gaping. "Great execution. Triple points for hitting portrait, cat, and dimwit," Lee commented. He motioned towards Angelina, who took a graceful bow. "The winner!"

"Brilliant," Fred acknowledged, shaking her hand. "I'm gonna have to employ your skills more often."

"As you should! But for now, I'll be expecting those chocolates during the next Hogsmeade trip," she ordered.

"A bet's a bet," Fred agreed. "Although that almost sounds like a date, Angie."

She grinned and shrugged. "You owe me chocolates, which happen to only be sold in Hogsmeade. And it'd be easier if I just went with you so I can take advantage of getting my fill. I can't help the technicalities."

"Guess I can't argue with that."

"*And* I'll expect your robes to be freshly ironed for the ball," she added, fixing one of his sleeves that had come unrolled during their conversation.

"Wait, what?" He was partially distracted by her fingertips tickling his arm.

"I'll go with you. I mean, as you said before, why not?"

"So is *that* a date, then?"

She shrugged, her hand lingering on his elbow. "If you're just so stuck on labeling these things, Fred, then yeah. I guess that is a date. Well, a date times two if the ball goes well enough."

Fred smiled at her. She smiled in turn.

"So what do those balls do anyway?" Lee asked, interrupting the moment. Upon remembering Lee's presence, Angelina removed her hand from Fred's arm. It was Fred's turn to roll his eyes and glare at his mate.

"Right. Thanks, Lee." Pulling out his wand, the Weasley flicked his wrist and cast a spell. Within seconds, one person from below started to scratch herself. Then another person. Then another. The scratching grew more fierce and louder.

"Bloody hell" one Slytherin shouted, doubling over to scratch all over his skin, which had started to grow little green bumps all over.

Malfoy was scratching even more furiously than everyone else, rolling around on the floor like a dirty Fang. All non-Slytherin students burst into laughter, watching their maladjusted castle mates spaz out.

"Yikes, that looks dreadful. Nice job!" Lee replied, shaking Fred's hand.

"If anyone asks, they've got a rare strain of pox," Fred explained. "That's what happens when you have twisted and deranged Slytherin saps hang out with each other. S-pox outbreaks also happen when you're a twit who gets caught stealing ivy powder from Snape's office, fools around with it, and gets it on everyone else; which is what'll be found in Malfoy's bag." Angie opened her mouth to inquire. "Earlier reconnaissance mission courtesy of George. Hence Malfoy has the worst itches of all those twits."

"Couldn't you have just done a spell for all that?" Angelina asked.

"Could've, yeah, but easier to sell merchandise anyone can use than expect people to get difficult spells right. Plus there's the added bonus of..."

"BLOODY HELL!" Malfoy shouted as his hair turned shaggy and green. The other scratchers shouted as their own dos turned putrid colors.

"You don't want to know what else turned green," Fred whispered.

"Twisted you and George are. Think I'll go get a closer look at the agony," said Lee with a Weasley-like grin, descending the stairs.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side, Fred," replied Angelina.

"I don't think you'll ever have to worry about that, Angel." Taking note of Mrs. Filch sniffing the air and her upward glance toward Fred, the twin removed himself from the banister. "Well, that's my cue to find a proper alibi. Angie, feel like having an alibi with me?"

"Sure. What say we further discuss this whole ball thing? I feel like there are rules to lay down."

"Such as?" he asked, offering her his arm. She took it playfully.

"If you bring any of your spells with you and they backfire on me, you will get Hell."

"Ooh."

"No no, the painful kind of Hell."

"Oh. Damn."

As a certain cat's flicking tail came into sight, the two mischief-makers made a quick getaway into the Gryffindor common room.

**

*
Please review!