Thank you, FawkesyLady, for making this readable! :)

Alice had no idea why she agreed to this madness. Going out for lunch to a busy pub at rush hour was her idea of hell. Her hands shook nervously as she imagined the throngs of witches and wizards sitting and standing near, making a lot of noise, or worse: expecting conversation complete with verbal responses. Out loud.

And then there was Barry. The infernal creature had attacked and hurt her - and the effort of putting him in a body-bind and healing herself taxed the young witch rather significantly. She sat down at the table with a small mirror, and began putting on a thick layer of makeup. The painted mask, hiding any and all imperfections, provided a sense of comfort and control to the young witch.

She carefully applied a shimmering layer of bronze eyeshadow, taking care to clear any stray fallout from her cheeks. She followed with a tight line of black pencil on her upper lash line, smudged just so, and several coats of jet-black mascara. As she brushed out the non-existent clumps, checking that her lashes were perfectly separated, she heard a loud knocking sound coming from behind the window.

'That had better not be Barry. I'll pluck 'im and fry him faster than you can say, PISS OFF!' And there he was. Clearly visible through the flawed pane, Barry was furiously trying to break through the glass with his beak. 'Not letting you in, no fucking chance, mate,' she muttered as she stomped over to the window and pulled the curtain shut. Abruptly, the knocking stopped, and Alice let out her anger and tension in a single forceful exhalation. The comparative silence was accusatory, deafening even. She refused to care. He could go eat poison-ridden rats after what he did. Even tomorrow morning might be too soon to face his flea-ridden surly gob.

Turning away from the window, the girl took an unsteady step towards the door, and had to catch herself as she nearly collapsed. She wrapped her arm around her middle as she rode out the wave of nausea, holding onto the countertop with a white-knuckled grip. She could not explain why firing a simple Petrificus Totalus had made her feel so weak, as though she had been in a long, tiring duel. Usually, her defensive skills were pretty sharp - an unexpected attack would have given her an adrenaline rush, and she would have fired one hex after another in retaliation without breaking a sweat. This time, however, she ended up with shaking hands and unsteady feet. She didn't feel up to Apparating all the way to London, and considered cancelling her lunch date with the Twins.

'Food though… real food,' she mused as she took a quick look in her cupboard. She had shopped for supplies again the day before, but since her culinary skills were limited to beans on toast or heating up a tin of soup, she thought hard, weighing the risk of Splinching over the allure of actual food. As items from the menu danced across her vision - bangers and mash, all day breakfast, and steak and kidney pie, she made a decision. She would take a half-dose of pepper-up and deal with the jitters. This was too good to miss and she wasn't going to get stronger laying in bed, like she would do if she stayed home.

Walking into the hallway, she took a quick look at herself in the mirror as she gathered her handbag. She decided that the khaki-green skater dress she was wearing was rather flattering. The hemline skimmed her knees, and the round neckline ended just an inch or so below her collarbone - modest enough to not attract unwanted attention. As she slipped her feet into a pair of brown sandals, her hand dipped into the bag and fished out a lip balm, which she applied as the finishing touch. Taking a last quick look, she gathered her courage and Disapparated.

Diagon Alley was was hotter than Hades and twice as populated. A blur of faces, heavily interrupted by short people buying school supplies, swam past Alice and she felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She looked around the crowd, disoriented, searching for the familiar freckled faces of her best friends.

The loud noises and the mingling scents of humans instantly overwhelmed Alice's senses, and her hands became sweaty with stress. She was standing in a bad spot, forcing a succession of wizards and witches to bump into her and scrape at her sides with paper bags. After the third, "Right, sorry, love!" and the next, "Get a leg on, witch, you're in the way," Alice ventured into the flow of the foot-traffic. Fred and George were nowhere to be seen.

Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she turned her head this way and that, buffeted towards Gringott's by the current of people. The air was heavy and thick, and she found herself taking quick, shallow breaths, desperate not to pass out in the heat and humidity. Hot tears of frustration and panic prickled her eyelids as she took a frantic look around, ready to Disapparate on the spot to escape the masses of the Great Unwashed.

Finally, she noticed two fiery heads near the entrance. The twins were waving their arms enthusiastically, shouting over the crowd, 'Ala! Over here!'

Alice nearly cried with relief by the time she reached the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. Giggling hysterically, she threw herself at George, and wrapped both arms around the redhead's neck without ceremony. George was rubbing her back in quick, soothing circles as the young witch clung to him for dear life. 'Are you alright, love?' He murmured in her ear. 'We couldn't see you in this crowd.'

'I couldn't see you either,' Alice replied in a shaky voice as she struggled to regain her composure. 'It's too busy out here today.'

'Come on, sweets,' Fred squeezed her shoulder gently and indicated for them to go inside. 'I need a cold pint, I do. George and I will make sure nobody bothers you, yeah?'

'Let them try,' George grumbled under his breath as he put an arm around Alice in a protective gesture, leading her gently inside. The twins were fiercely protective of their friend, and although they encouraged her to try to be around other people, they were acutely attuned to her uneasiness.

Silently sending up prayers of thanks to sweet Nimue for friends such as these, Alice allowed herself to be led inside by George. The twins immediately began scanning the area, searching for the perfect available table, preferably in a quieter, secluded corner. Placing one hand on George's arm, she pulled away, bravely declaring. 'I'll… be alright in a moment, I just need my back to a wall.' There was a betraying quiver in her voice, but George nodded understanding, and eagle-eyed Fred gestured for them to follow him to a very recently vacated corner booth on the other side of the pub.

As soon as they reached their table, Alice took a seat that hid her from view. Closing her eyes, she attempted to zone out and forget about all the people milling around in the pub. The sounds of countless conversations were less intimidating now that she wasn't out in the open, and she mumbled an incomprehensible response when Fred asked her what she wanted to drink. The redhead shrugged, understanding that she needed space to regain her balance, and walked off to the bar to buy her a pint of ale and a cottage pie.

George took a seat to her right, and remained silent, becoming intensely interested in a grease-stained copy of the Daily Prophet left on the table by the previous customer. Turning the pages absent-mindedly, he kept shooting furtive glances at Alice, who averted her gaze and was picking at her cuticles, avoiding interaction.

Fred returned with their drinks, and Alice looked up and gave her friend a small smile as she accepted her ale. 'Ta, love,' she said, and took a little sip. She hummed in appreciation and wiped the froth off her upper lip. 'Just what I needed.'

'Best pint in town,' Fred nodded his agreement before taking a large gulp of his own drink. 'That's why most nights we come here instead of going home to Mum's.'

'Unless we forget and work into the night,' George interjected, and seemed to be glowing with pride as he added, 'The shop is a roaring success, you know. More and more customers coming in each week!'

'That's awesome, but you have froth on your nose,' Alice muttered, and quickly looked away, choosing to study her fingernails once more.

Unabashed, George ploughed on, 'Had a few problems last week - you know those enchanted gnomes we were selling to them kids? They weren't supposed to cause much mither, they were only supposed to run around gardens to scare bored housewives, and disappear into thin air the next day,'

'-But unfortunately they got out of hand. They were destroying people's gardens…' Fred looked a little embarrassed as he finished his brother's sentence.

'George, you have froth on your nose.' Alice stated more loudly, but the redhead was oblivious as he continued his story.

'Well, we got a load of howlers that week, we did. Something went wrong with our spellwork, it seems, and every time someone tried to catch the blighters, they just ended up multiplying!'

'- That's just because YOU cast the wrong spell on them!' Fred cut in angrily, jabbing an accusing finger at his twin brother. 'You were only supposed to cast the Multiplying Charm on the fireworks, not on the ruddy gnomes!'

'George, you have froth on your nose!' Alice tried to talk over the arguing brothers, but the redheads were too caught up in their quarrel to give her any notice.

'Shut up, Fred, it was an accident, I told you! Anyway, after like, the fiftieth howler, we decided to think of a way to reverse it. So we found that formula for Gnomebegone that you had written down a few years ago, you know, when mum complained about the little buggers. It worked on ordinary gnomes, so we reckoned it would work on the enchanted ones too. And you know what? It did! A best-seller! Don't worry though, we'll totally pay you commission on every bottle.'

Alice stood and leaned over the table with amazing speed, and forcibly grabbed George by the ear as she spat in her napkin. Holding him tightly, she caught his nose with her free hand and pinched it, wiping off the foam. 'I SAID you have froth on your nose!' She growled as she moved to sit back down.

George was still hovering, having levitated out of his chair by ear-lift and was in a position to capture Ala's jaw. Before she could blink he had kissed her nose.

Alice squealed in surprise, and pushed George away. 'You'll smudge my face, you erumpent's pizzle!'

The offending wizard looked impressed and offered a conciliatory,'Tit for tat, lovey.' He flopped back into his seat with a saucy wink and turned his amorous attentions to his grub. He hummed appreciatively at the first bite of flaky crust.

'Aw, ickle Georgie needed his nose wiping!' Fred jeered. 'Oi!' He leaned back as his brother tried to punch him in the arm, the blow went wide and almost upset Alice's pint.

Used to this sort of militant exchange, Alice had tucked in with an appetite, but seeing her glass wobble drained the humour right out of her. She brandished her fork threateningly as she barked at the boys, "Settle down right now, afore you get us tossed out."

The three friends settled into an easy silence, hungry friends sharing excellent food. Fred was farthest into his pie, so he was the first to speak.

'Have you seen Snape again?' Fred queried, mouth still partially full.

The unexpected question caused Alice to blush bright red. Lacing her fingers in her lap, she picked at her cuticles as she stammered out her reply, 'No. Not since last week, I haven't. Um… since Friday. Why, have you?'

George rolled his eyes as he replied in hushed tones, 'Yes. He's been coming to Order meetings over the weekend,'

'- I swear the Bat was even grumpier than usual, impossible as it sounds!' Fred spat, his face twisted in an expression of disgust.

Alice stared, confused, at the seething faces of her two best friends. The flush of indignation spread across their cheeks was almost as red as their hair, and George looked away, staring into the middle distance through narrowed eyes. Lips drawn into a tight line, he uttered bitterly, 'Broke Mum's heart on Sunday, the bastard did.'

'How so?' Alice asked quietly, unsure of what to say or how to react. Molly Weasley was an amicable woman, if perhaps a little smothering at times, but as far as Alice knew, she went to great lengths to take care of everyone in the Order. Alice could think of no reason why anyone would intentionally hurt her, especially one who gave life to these two devils. Intrigued, the girl leaned forwards, encouraging George to continue.

'Mum offered him a cup of tea - should have spiked it with poison, if you ask me,' Alice snorted with appreciation, and George grinned bitterly as he continued, 'She put it right in front of his great big nose sweet as you please, but when he took a sip...' George motioned as though throwing something away, his usually pleasant expression marred with fury.

'- The pillock spat it out!' Fred shouted, banging his fist in on the table in rage. Alice and George looked around in alarm as they simultaneously brought one finger to their lips, urging the angry redhead to keep his voice down.

'Well, you know Mum's tea was fit for the Queen, so we were all absolutely flummoxed. When Mum rushed back to help him he slapped her hands away, and threw the brew, cup and all straight into the fire. And if that wasn't enough had the nerve to lecture her.' Fred screwed up his face into an approximation of a sourpuss toff and lowered his voice dramatically: ''Witches today don't know how to brew ANYTHING anymore!'' His words, not mine,' Fred added quickly as he saw Alice's mouth twist into a scowl.

'Well, the next thing you know she's screaming at him, her finger pointing at his face.'

George nodded with a poorly suppressed chortle, 'She backed him into a corner. Stupid git, didn't know who he was messing with!'

Fred's expression changed into the scolding one he used for his mother, and did a pretty good approximation, "Is my tea not GOOD ENOUGH for you, PROFESSOR? I have had ENOUGH of your griping. You can bloody well sod off! Maybe his Highness requires a doily? What next, virgin's tears instead of water? You'd love that, I wager!"

George cut in here, narrating, 'Well, Snape didn't have a chance. Mum burst into tears, and that's when Dumbledore arrived.'

'Trod all over the shards of that cup on his way in. Not enough left for even the Headmaster to Reparo.' Fred added, 'He pulled Snape over and we couldn't hear what they were saying, but Snape hovered in the door for the rest of the meeting, with the foulest expression. I haven't seen him that angry since.."

'... we enchanted his inkwell to geyser strawberry jam every time he said 'dunderhead.' George and Fred both looked extremely pleased with themselves.

Fred caught Alice's eyes and said sotto voce, 'It had excellent aim for an inkpot.'

Clapping his brother on his shoulder, George laughingly supplied for Alice, 'Always on his nose!'

Alice was forced to laugh at that image, but a long-brewing storm was hovering at the back of her mind. It was one thing for Professor Snape to return incompetence with snark, but he had been a guest, and his behaviour was unforgivable. Come to think on it, 'Did he even apologise?'

'Nope. I'm telling you, Ala, he's fucking mental.' George folded his arms across his chest and turned his nose up with a derisive snort.

Around a gulp of ale, Fred added, "Mum's a force of nature who never forgets. Oh, she'll forgive, but she won't let you ever forget it."

'What an arsehole,' Alice uttered angrily and took a large gulp of her ale. Slamming her glass down onto the table, she pointed a finger at George as she remembered the Professor's last visit. 'Do you know what he did to me?' She paused for emphasis as the twins narrowed their eyes simultaneously. 'He came into my bloody house, woke me up at stupid-o-clock, insulted my brewing abilities, and left filthy footprints all over the floor! Honestly guys, I had to get down on my hands and knees to scrub that floor clean…' She trailed off, waving her arms in fury, and the Weasleys shared an amused look.

'But, Alice dearest, you're always scrubbing floors on your hands and knees,' Fred drawled with a cocky grin, and quickly rearranged his face to a more serious expression when Alice rewarded his remark with a deadly glare. George pretended to choke on his lager, trying to cover up his amused snicker.

'And what do you mean, he insulted your brewing skills? Why was he in your house at all?' Fred raised a questioning eyebrow.

'He… well, I hardly know what to say. It was a whirlwind and next thing I know he's down in my lab, poking about. He described my potions as adequate,' she stammered, desperate to avoid answering the second part of the question. How exactly was she supposed to tell them that the man had invited himself in to make her a delicious breakfast? Mentally berating herself for her massive gob, she missed the moment when Fred's eyelid began to twitch, and George's face turned beet-red. Fred ground his molars as he clutched his fists tightly by his sides, and a look of pure hatred flashes in his eyes.

'Don't you listen to that bullshit, Alice Crowley! Your potions are perfect, and you better know it! We've sold 50 bottles of your Gnomebegone last week. Customers are saying that they've never come across a better gnome-repellent in their lives - that speaks volumes, Ala!'

'Thanks love,' Alice replied with a tight-lipped smile. She knew her potions were good, and judging by the amount of commission she was earning, they were indeed selling pretty well, but Snape's remark still stung. He was the Potions Master, after all, and she didn't even have any NEWTs under her belt yet.

'You should do something nasty to him if he comes again,' George's lips widened in a smirk Alice knew so well. The wheels and cogs were turning rapidly under that thatch of copper hair, and he was coming up with a new ingenious plan. 'Like… make him take his shoes off… or else.'

'Are you sure she wants to do that, George?' Fred asked in a stage whisper. 'Our Alice has delicate sensibilities. She might not want to see his horrible troll feet…'

George's face twisted into a rictus of revulsion as he added, 'with those yellow inch-long curved toenails!'

'...And hairy heels!'

'Ew, stop this! Stop right now!' Alice wrinkled her nose and covered her ears, protecting herself from further mental images. 'But in all honesty, I'd rather see troll feet than dirty footprints!'

'Well, if you're sure…' George began officiously as he pulled a piece of parchment and a quill out of the enchanted pocket in his dragonhide jacket. 'I'm sure we could devise a charm that would force your unwanted visitor to take off his smelly old shoes,'

'- And make his feet itch like buggery if he doesn't!' Fred piped up excitedly, and Alice's eyes glittered with glee. This was what she truly lived for - using magic to invent innovative techniques which were useful, if at times a little controversial. According to the Terrible Triplets, most witches and wizards were woefully unreasonable and unappreciative of their artistry and creativity, and sometimes had to be encouraged to have a little taste of their talents. They didn't quite grasp why the hopelessly obstructive adults did not seem to recognise genius when it punched them in the face, sometimes quite literally, but at least the Gleesome Threesome had a steady supply of unsuspecting (and mostly unwilling) test subjects for their projects.

As far as they were concerned, they were the unsung heroes of the wizarding world - did they not almost succeed in driving Umbridge into insanity? Did they not enable students to skive off lessons and detentions? Did they not improve the lives of ordinary witches and wizards with their products? Did they not indirectly expose many a cheating spouse with their Extendable Ears? Did they not provide joy and happiness to the young and the old alike? And yet here they were, still waiting for those Orders of Merlin they surely deserved. Perhaps this latest project, if successful and released to the wider public, would do the proverbial trick.

'Alright, boys,' Alice rubbed her hands together as she shifted in her seat to a more comfortable position. Fred was already scribbling notes on the parchment, running a quick set of Arithmetic equations to determine the most efficient way of combining a Compulsion Charm and an Itching Hex, and ensuring that the unpleasant effects would be directed at the offender's feet.

'What do you think, guys? The Itching Hex would need to be embedded within the Compulsion Charm, which is doable…' Fred rubbed his chin as he cautiously added another symbol within the equation. 'But right now we have no guarantee that the itching won't spread…'

'Oh no, no, we want it to stay in place!' Alice grabbed the parchment and perused it carefully, making a few slight adjustments here and there. 'So, we need to put a Containment Charm about... here, right here, then close the equation like so…' She stuck out the tip of her tongue in concentration as she carefully balanced the equation.

'It should be gradual, too, for your amusement,' George slid the parchment across the table and skillfully added another row of symbols underneath the original formula. 'And the effects should last until the shoes are removed.' He added as he jotted down the symbol that triggered the end of the enchantment.

'Perhaps… hang on,' Alice narrowed her eyes as she ran a quick mental calculation, adding up the rows of numbers in search of any errors. She then cross-referenced the symbols and, tapping her lower lip, addressed the twins, 'You don't have a numerological chart on you by any chance?'

'Um… George?' Fred shot a questioning look at his brother, who rummaged through his numerous pockets and shook his head to the negative with an apologetic smile.

'Never mind, we'll have to do this the hard way,' Alice rubbed her temples and turned her attention back to the equations. She tore off a small piece of parchment, and scribbled on it as she went, nodding periodically.

'Right - have a look. The numbers add up, but the symbol within the containment charm is in direct conflict with the one in the compulsion charm - see here?' She pointed at the offending symbols with her fingers, and the twins nodded in agreement, their brows furrowed in thought.

'If we were to leave it like this - translate it into Runic alphabet as it is, and then turn it into a spell, it's quite probable that the victim would end up with massive boils… and that's a bit extreme, don't you think?'

'Not at all,' Fred winked as Alice snorted in dark amusement, and picked up the quill and the parchment again. 'If we were to replace this symbol…' he muttered under his breath as he adjusted the equation, 'Then we'd end up with one's shoes itching, rather than one's feet.' He finished irritably as he set the quill down onto the table. 'George, help us out here, will you?'

'It's because you've made a third-year mistake, Ala and Brother Dearest.' George drawled lazily as he elegantly plucked the parchment out of Fred's hand. 'Haven't you learned anything from Vector? First, you have three separate clauses, and each has to be closed…' He scribbled on the parchment, and looked up to smile at his best friend and his brother condescendingly. 'Then, you have to encapsulate these, now properly written clauses, within one equation, like so… and there you go. Those symbols are only in conflict if they aren't within their own, separate clauses. You should have known that!'

'Well spotted,' Alice grumbled as she slid the parchment across the table towards herself. She rolled her eyes in disbelief at her own lack of attentiveness. Feeling a little embarrassed, she began translating the equation into Runes, taking extreme care to ensure that her translation was flawless, her runes perfectly sharp and well-proportioned.

'There, that should do it.' She announced as she named the spell and tapped the parchment with her wand. The runes glowed a bright blue before fading again into black, and Alice rolled up the parchment and tucked it into her handbag, her expression a mixture of triumph and satisfaction. 'I'll try this out at home.' She announced, and her lips stretched into a malevolent grin as she noticed the anticipation flashing through the twin's eyes.

'Let us know how it goes. We want all of the gory details… no need to credit us, though!' George threw up his hands in a gesture entitled 'You're on your own, woman!'

'Why, thanks,' Alice replied as she stood up and stretched her muscles. Her bum had gone numb, and it was time to go home and check up on her potions. Their time together always flew by quickly, and she had notice that the barman was shooting them dirty looks. 'I guess it's time to go. I'm tired, so I'll take the Floo.'

Hugs with the Weasley twins were one of Alice's happy moments that worked well for summoning a Patronus, and this memory would spawn a strong one. George stepped in to hug Alice on her left, and Fred enveloped her from the right and for that perfect moment, she felt like she was home.

'We'll see you soon, aye? Take care of yourself.' George gave his friend a peck on the cheek, and Alice had a moment's thrill as he seemed to be considering her nose again. Her eyes narrowed dangerously, daring him to do it, but Fred cut in.

'And don't let Snape drive you bonkers,' Fred whispered in her ear. Alice chuckled, standing on tip-toe, and gave each twin a kiss on the cheek. 'I'll be alright. Hopefully we'll meet up before the start of term. Oh, and don't forget - it's payday next Friday, and I expect to see my money first thing in the morning!'

'As if you'd let us forget', George muttered, and Alice extricated herself from their embrace. She made her way to the public fireplace, and turned around as she dropped a pinch of Floo powder into the grate, waving at her friends before disappearing in roaring green flames.